Who are you - who who who who - I really wanna know...

Good Monday Morning blog readers,
You know what is so cool? I just turned on the purple box (my laptop) logged in to eblogger to discover that someone from Nairobi read my blog 'ghosts of Rwanda' - I don't know about you - but, I think that is fairly awesome. My words in Africa...
Love it sooooo much.
And because I have limited time this morning to write and therefore cannot delve too deep into any subject (boo!) - I guess, just who in the heck is reading my blog anyways (?) is an okay quickie to discuss before I have to get in the shower and get ready for work..
So who is reading my blog?
To be honest - I don't really know.
Well, that's not completely factual - some of you I do know because you tell me, you respond, like for instance my fan club president Annie or my blog junkie Jenny - you share your love of my blogs, you gush at me - in Jenny's case, she demands more and but quick already! (thanks btw)
And some of you....reveal that you read them when I run into you at the grocery store or poolside at a swim meet - Stacy :)
And then of course there is Mary, she reads them all, my sister in-law Pam, she partakes regularly and well, Irene - she always reads them too....
As for the rest of the 6,000 hits I see in the corner of my stat page - I just don't know who you are.
And truth is, I would like to know.
Not who you are necessarily - like in your personal info, SS# - blood type - eye color - BUT rather who you are in relation to me -
And boy am I sucking at communicating this morning - WOW
What I mean - (if I can articulate because it seems today I am having major difficulty forming lucid thoughts...)
is that I wonder if my audience is like me???
Are you women? Are you Men? How old are you? And WHY do you read me?
Maybe I am relate-able?
Maybe I am hilarious?
Maybe it is my honesty?
Maybe you are just bored???
And if you find me randomly and you are one of the 6,000 hits that don't know me personally - how did you find me?
I added the little "feejit" application to my page - it allows me to see in "real time" where the hits are coming from - that is how I know about Nairobi -
It's pretty cool to see, although for a personality type like mine - it is also a bit of a tease.
I can see that I am quite popular in Indiana for instance, but who are those people?
I don't know, but heyyyy Indiana :)
At any rate - anonymity is good I guess - that is one of the things that I debated about before I began to run my mouth here...
Do I want to just put myself out there - I really am (and I know you are disbelieving as you read this) a private kind of person.
Well sort of - I just keep to myself a lot and don't socialize nearly enough (damn kids)
It is not unusual to see me with my headphones on in my own world with my music instead of chatting it up with the other Mom's at the bus stop.
I am kinda private.
So.....I get your anonymity, you silent observers who I do not know.
I totally get it.
But thanks for reading just the same -
But always feel free to say hello and introduce yourself to me too.
Respond - tell me I am wrong - tell me I am right - give me your feedback if you want.
Writers always need feedback.
And so with that, I guess I will go do the real life thing - work and responsibilities. Yuck.
I would much rather sit here and write to you, but alas my carriage just turned in to a pumpkin - back to the Cinderella grind.
I wish you all a blessed day.

Part 5 - Ten years ago, ten years ago today and for always....

I waited on an angel.....
I waited on something, anything at all to give, something, anything to grant a reprieve from all the fear and now, thanks to my husband, all the undue pain.
My angel finally showed up on a blazing summer day in July.
I cannot describe my state of being up until that wonderful day as anything other than the living dead and that isn't even remotely close to accurate.
From the outside - I was calm - corpse like calm, zombie like I guess.
But I wasn't quiet inside....
What was going on inside of me was a calculated effort to micro-manage my emotions while secretly acknowledging them.
What the hell does that mean?
Well, the team of doctor's involved with our case assured me that the baby could feel my stress, could feel my emotions and most likely was in some pain from the compression on his brain (imagine a constant migraine)
This reality put an immense amount of pressure on me to stave off emotional freak outs and keep his environment as calm and consistent as I could.
Hard to do when you are literally screaming in your head, shaking inside with fear and want to throw shit at your husbands face.
I was inside myself for those months following the diagnosis more than I have ever been - I learned to bottle it all up and then slowly release the cap so that the pressure was a slow leak rather than an explosion.
I went to the hospital almost weekly - My visits became methodical, routine.
Park the car, greet the person at the desk and smile, go into the chapel and write in the offering book 'please make him well', say a prayer, gather my strength and go to the next test.
The worst of all of these tests came right before my Angel - she came in the nick of time I think, looking back I was just beginning to unravel - this cat scan had me rattled.
I was put horizontal in a tube which then traveled into this giant circular structure which would take clearer pictures of the baby's brain. The doctor communicated with me throughout the whole test, I could hear his voice from the other room while he looked at the slides. He kept telling me to be perfectly still.
Problem with being still was that he had informed me prior to getting in, that because of the compression in his head, because of the very real possibility of constant head pain for him, the very loud noises the machine made would probably affect the baby and cause him to react quite physically.
I remember vividly standing in the changing room undressing. I remember placing my bra with enormous cups on top of the heap of clothes which it completely covered and thinking 'God my boobs are huge' - I had no idea in that room how tough the next hour would be for me.
Sigh. The baby reacted poorly. With every click that startled me, he jumped inside my body - he jumped, he kicked, he tensed, he rolled himself into a protective fetal ball.
This wasn't the usual kicks and punches. This was, painful for me and emotional.
Every fiber of my being, every instinct said RUB HIM. TALK TO HIM, soothe him with your touch, your voice.
Problem was - can't move at all, or speak at all.
Perfectly still is the only way to get clear pictures and considering NONE of the scans showed the defect, this was our best shot.
And so....He writhed inside me and I lay still, silent and helpless to comfort my hurting baby while tears slid from my eyes in a steady stream and pooled a puddle of salt water around my head.
I will never forget that day or the feeling of complete and utter helplessness to protect and soothe my child.
I was a fucking wreck after the fact.
And....After all was said and done, NO CHANGE in the ventricle and NO EXPLANATION still.
Pictures showed nothing conclusive.
The doctors consulted and we briefly spoke of exploratory brain surgery - open my uterus, drill though his skull and try to find the problem and maybe fix it?
Um yeah no.
And so I worsened inside myself, feeling more hopeless and more alone, more angry at Dan who I could no longer reach out for in the middle of the night to hold me, because his arms betrayed me in my hour of need.
Yeah, I was a mess and beginning to doubt that I was going to come out of this whole experience a whole human being.
Mary was my lifeline - I can remember calling her sometimes and beginning the conversation with slow and steady weeping instead of words.
She was the only one who understood my state of being, the only one who knew just how badly I was doing personally and all she could do was hang on the phone and coerce me into going on...
And then came the angel.
Like I said, a hot summer day - Dan and the kids had convinced me to go to the downtown mall and get an ice cream at chaps.
Fine whatever.
As we sat down outside I noticed a girl in a wheelchair at the next table over. She was facing me and hard to ignore, she was all twisted physically, her body parts contorted in all the wrong directions.
I watched her, transfixed, staring, and I prayed in my head 'Oh dear God, please not that'
The prayer startled me - that train of thought was so unlike me.
I don't do that, I don't think that, I see everyone the same - What the hell???
I felt awful, immediately wanted to take the prayer back - but I couldn't and I couldn't stop staring - I rudely watched her and her father, watched their every move intently.
She couldn't speak, she grunted. She couldn't move except for an occasional flail of a hand. Her chair was a contraption, monitors and lights, a breathing machine of some kind with tubes.
It was horrific and yet, as I watched and as I tried to eat my shameful prayer, I began to see something I had never ever seen before in all my life.
And I see things, trust me I see things that others don't - BUT this....
This I had NEVER seen.
And I am weeping fyi.
I watched her father communicate with her, he asked her things and she somehow answered. He understood. She understood. I watched and I knew nothing that they were saying to each other - couldn't have wagered a reasonable guess with a gun to my head - how they communicated was discernible to me and yet, I could see it.
Brian said "Mom stop staring" - his voice sounded a thousand miles away, maybe even in a different place.
I stared on as everything around me began to break up into atoms again - grainy little dots that made a tunnel. The sky, the sun, my kids, the bank next to me, the lattice of the flower box, the purple pansies - they all culminated in grainy dots, braking apart their form and becoming a tunnel of energy that led me to the girl in the chair and her dad.
And when it all went away and just the three of us (four, the baby) were left, I could see their love.
And this, this I know, I will NEVER find words for - I could see it more clearly than anything I had even seen in my life. It was a color maybe, a visible energy maybe, it was coming from her to him and back from him to her and it surrounded then like a glow.
I saw it I swear.
And what it said to me is this....
This is love.
And this love is beyond what you have yet to know, because your love, has been simple and easy love.
That doesn't mean it isn't real love, or good love or valid love - it just means that when love is challenged and it prevails - it is stronger and does not conform....
And what I thought instantly was - I can do this....
If he is born and he is dying in my arms - it SHOULD be my arms and I WILL soothe him and give him strong wings.
If he is born and needs to be hooked up to a machine to live, well I will KNOW what is best and I will DO what is best because I am his MOTHER.
If he is impaired and low functioning, I will RISE to the occasion and pull him up with me.
If he can't communicate with me in my language I will LEARN his.
I am his Mother for a reason.
I CAN do this, I am the only ONE who can.
And furthermore...when I do, do this - I get that non-conforming, beautiful light, prevailing love all for myself....
Yes I can do that.
And I swear, my life was divinely intervened upon - God sent me an angel to deliver the message I so longed to hear.
I still see that girl on the mall from time to time - I cry every time I am fortunate enough to walk by that beautiful love.
Everything changed after that...
I let go of trying to get answers about his condition.
I let go of the pre-test anxieties.
I let go of the fear.
I knew whatever it was - it would be okay....
The months moved quicker then and the day of his birth approached.
I toured the NICU at UVA hospital, I got overwhelmed at the sight of all the tiny infants fighting for life - a sweet nurse gave me a paper bag to breathe in and I had to take a break and sit down.
It wasn't just about the necessity of seeing this for my possibility - it was seeing the reality of the constant state of struggle that others are in.
My angel and the easy love - easy love comes easy.
SO many sick kids, so many parents in the fight for the prevailing love - perspective....
I set up his nursery, sat in his rocking chair and rubbed him as I sang.
I finally named him - Matthew Joseph
Matthew - gift of God
Joseph - give to us another son.
I called my Nana every week to report and every week she said in disbelief, "no change? Hmmm I was sure this was the week"
SHE NEVER DOUBTED HE WOULD BE OKAY.
I prepared mentally for every scenario and thought intently about what I wanted to say if our time together was fleeting.
Mary booked her flight to come for his birth, my coach, my best friend by my side - she would come from Maine and be there with us, the only person I could think of to be with me if I had to say hello and goodbye in one breath.
We got closer and closer and I put in for my maternity leave.
The ultra sounds became more frequent checking for head circumference for the natural birth I insisted I would have.
And then on September 11th 2001, I put my kids on the bus and began my first day of maternity leave, six days and counting until my scheduled induction - I made a cup of tea and cinnamon toast and climbed back into bed to watch the today show.
I will never, ever forget the sequence of events that unfolded before me.
I ate my toast and drank my tea, I was tired and could actually go back to sleep if I wanted. Matt Lauer was interviewing an author - I was falling asleep to the sound.
And then, Matt stopped, said there was breaking news - apology to the author and Katie joined him.
A plane has hit one of the world trade center tours in Manhattan.
An accident. What kind of plane? A small plane - no witnesses say a big plane - a jet liner.
Picture of the tower with flames close to the top.
Phone calls from people on the street to the television station.
Live phone calls.
Chaos.
What the hell is happening?
I sat up, confused but not especially alarmed. It was assumed that this was a grave accident, a terrible plane crash. Isolated incident.
And then, a live phone call on air, a person on the street below the towers explaining the scene to Katie and Matt and a sound,
a rumble, a high pitched whistle, the person screaming "Oh my God - Oh my God"
and an explosion.
A second plane, the second tower.
The reality instantaneously understood and showed on Matt's face - Our Nation is under attack.
I sat up more, straight up.
What the hell is going on?
I called Greer elementary and spoke to the secretary - I said "Get Judy Boyer a Television in her room ASAP, something historical is happening - the world trade center is under attack"
These were my co-workers....I was the first call through to alert them...Minutes later the phone lines were clogged.
Scared parents calling in, administrative people dialing out....
I watched the TV in horror - I called Mary.
The panic ensued, the grounding of all planes in US airspace began.
I put on the radio.
A plane over Virgina airspace is not responding to air traffic commands to land.
I live in Virginia - my kids are at school.
I bolted up and got my clothes on.
I ran out the front door and sped to the school.
Police were everywhere, panic was evident.
I retrieved my kids from a school bracing itself for complete chaos as parents began to show up in the hundreds.
A police car in front of Greer, one in front of Jouett, the American flags flapping against the brilliant blue sky as I peered above my dash looking for any sign of an aircraft....surreal.
I got home and turned on the news.
The pentagon hit, the plane in Virginia airspace, now shrapnel in the side of our Nation's military headquarters.
What the hell is happening, oh my God what is happening?
Plane over PA airspace.
Plane down in a Pennsylvania field....
Jesus Christ.
The tower is falling.
Oh my God.
Jesus Christ.
Hand to mouth.
Hand to stomach.
Heart sinking.
Jesus Christ, tears streaming down my face from the security of my home.
Jesus Christ what the hell is happening?
The second tower falling.
All the people, all the people, Jesus Christ it's New York City - all the people.
A nation literally under attack in my lifetime - this is happening.
Matt Lauer and Katie Couric look sick - Tom Brokaw looks sick to his stomach - what the hell is happening?
We all remember that day in our own way.
It was like nothing I could have ever dreamed up.
As the details were assessed, the footage of the terrorists in a Portland, Maine Wal Mart released, The Logan airport tapes on TV, the first hand accounts of the calls from United flight 93 discussed - I sat in complete and utter disbelief.
Again I was back in the car looking at the trees - four hours ago I was drinking tea and thinking about Matthew's birth in six days....
Now our Nation is under an undefined attack and thousands of people are dead....
What was tough, just got tougher...
Mary and I stayed on the phone for hours not speaking, connected, together, but listening. Watching. Crying.
Oh my God Mary, what is happening?
She said at some point (still so naive to how this had changed our lives) "I am still coming"
I responded "the hell you are - you are not flying anywhere - hell no - I will be fine - you can come later when things calm down"
"No" she said "I am coming, I won't miss this" (crying on both ends)
"I won't having you take the risk Mary"
Both so naive - no planes would be up in American airspace to get on, forget about her plane....
We talked about selfishly worrying about our situation in that moment - but truth was, I was still preparing to give birth to a baby that may die...
My reality was unchanged in the midst of a National tragedy that would have the entire Nation reeling.
I didn't sleep well that night. I kept the TV on in the bedroom. I couldn't help but watch.
It looked like post nuclear war. There was a cavernous black hole in a meadow in PA.
The pentagon was four sided....
I was going in the morning for my final ultra sound, the one that would determine if he could be delivered vaginally.
I couldn't sleep.
The next morning I showered and I dressed, on eye on the television.
I got in the car with Dan and we drove to the hospital.
The streets were mostly empty.
There were fire fighters in full gear at intersections taking collections for NYC in boots.
The city was a ghost town and everything moved in silent slow motion.
I went into the chapel - I wrote 'Please make him well and God help our Nation"
I prayed.
I climbed on the table mostly unaffected - I had done this thirty something times. Jelly to the belly.
Conversation about the attacks with the tech and my friend, Karen.
Wand to belly, movement.
Checking circumference now - looks good for vaginal delivery - you shouldn't need the section.
Oh good - at least this will go my way.
But wait.....
She paused.....
Karen's face changed, her eyes brows furrowed, her eyes squinted.
"wait a minute" she said....
What?
Wait for what?
She turned the screen towards me - she should have called in Dr. T first - she broke protocol, her eyes were filling with tears.
Oh Jesus, what now? Why is she beginning to cry?
"look Deb" she said, "look"
And she pointed to his brain on the screen.
More than 3/4 of it was gray...
Wait what?
Where is all the black????
Where is all the BLACK?
My heart raced and I leaned up on my elbows, she pushed harder on the wand.
Look at all that Gray....
She called in Dr.T - he looked.
He smiled.
I said "what - what - what?"
It has shrunk.
The ventricle had shrunk.
What??????
What?
The ventricle was still enlarged, still big, but suddenly on September 12th 2001, after four months of no change - it was within 'normal limits'
And, the brain matter now exposed looked like it had developed normally - all squiggly and gray....
I cried. I felt joy I had never imagined I would know...
The ventricle went down, the fluid was a gush instead of a trickle.
September 12th, 2001.
I remembered the terrorist attack - remembered what was going on outside that room in the hospital - I remembered the horror and suddenly didn't know how I should feel.
I was elated in the midst of National tragedy.
I was unsure what to do....
I called Mary, we cried.
I felt guilty for my joy.
I watched the news, the family members posting missing person pictures on that wall in NYC - I watched the fires burn in the rubble.
I felt isolated in my joy, my joy felt remote, removed - the guilt felt immediate.
I called my Nana to report our good news, the news she expected all along.
I cried like a little girl again with her, needed her to tell me it was all okay...
What she said, I will never ever forget as long as I live, it is one of the reasons that these events are so profoundly linked and that although I lost no one in the attacks, I remember each and every person as though I did.
She said,
"Oh lovey, this is the balance of life, the way that it works. And maybe, just maybe, God took someone yesterday for a reason we will never understand, but that reason, made room for Matthew's precious life - and that is your blessing in the face of that loss and you must never ever forget or be ungrateful."
And this is why I wrote this blog....
I had not thought about it in that way until that moment.
I cannot say if it made me feel better or worse.
I did know, as my Grandmother had all along, that God was giving me obstacle after obstacle to see how I would hold up, to see what I would do.
What I did, was rise....
Matthew Joseph Poulin was born on September 17th, 2001 - the day the stock exchanged re-opened in NYC.
I was spread eagle in stirrups as Dr. Blommel gloved up and prepared to insert the meds to my cervix to induce my labor.
We paused with the whole country to observe a moment in silence.
I can see the TV beyond my bent knees and the pill on her gloved finger tip to this day....
He came in two pushes - I wanted to get that head out.
Dr.Blommel held him up all gooey before her, he was screaming his lungs out, he reached forward and grabbed her paper mask - he pulled back to reveal her smile, she said,
"I bet you don't have any idea how many prayer lists you have been on"
He was not whisked away to a NICU, he was not pried from my arms.
He nursed and I cried while inspecting every inch of his perfect little head and asking over and over to anyone that would listen,
"Are you sure he is okay?"
He was okay - he is okay.
Ventricle is still bigger than it should be, he is a successful case study at UVA, he is a pain in my ass daily - most ten year old boys are - sue me.
I love that he is a pain in my ass - wouldn't have it any other way....
And, I guess in the long run I was granted the 'easy love - that prevailed'
Lucky me....
I had to share this story with you because that year helped to define the person I now am. In order for you to hear the 'moral messages' in every blog I write, you kinda have to know the wars that have been waged to provide my wisdom and the gratefulness I wish would spread like a communicable disease....
On the one year anniversary of 9/11 I sat on the edge of my bed and listened to every name of every victim - I don't know which one made room for Matt specifically so I count each and every one as my personal blessing.
I would have done that even if Matt had died, but I do it now, with a PERSONAL GRATEFULNESS that makes the enormity of the loss and change our Nation endured that day more me specific.
I must never forget.....
Mary and I, shared these events long distance, apart when we should have been together.
My birthing coach, my best friend - kept from me on the most important day of my life by terrorism.
We traveled that road from 9/11 to 9/17 by phone - that week changed our friendship forever.
By NOT being able to get to each other - we realized the scope our love, how truly important we are to each other.
We cry when we talk about it ten years later with Matthew and Emma fighting in the back ground.
We visited the hallowed ground the weekend of my 40th birthday - we cried together and remembered the day, remembered the lives lost, remembered the gift of one new life.
I am so glad that I got to go there with her - I would rather look upon that empty space with no one else in my life, except maybe her and Matt - one day I hope, one day...
And so, sigh - today on this tenth anniversary of 9/11, part 5 of my cliff hanging blog, leads me to this final sentiment.
Life is hard... Life can feel really unfair...Life can turn on a dime... Life is not about what happens TO you, but rather what you DO with what you are given.
That year, ten long years ago, gave me nothing but shit.
But, with that shit I fertilized a space within myself that could have been a ground zero of my own, an unsafe place to ever consider re-entering... Instead I, tilled and plowed, got dirty, dug deep and planted the seeds of varied garden of beautiful GRATEFULNESS....
I tend that garden everyday.
Today I would like to thank my Nana, My Angel,and my best friend Mary for helping me see the beauty that was there all along.... (so Dorothy Gale)
And also, to pay tribute to all the lives that were lost that fateful day - the victims and the ones who went in willingly to save the victims - the ones who drove down a plane to spare more lives than their own - the soldiers who protect us every day....
I don't know if my story has spoken to you in any way shape or form - I hope it has - that is always my hope when I spill my guts.
In conclusion - do your best to love everyday. And to share that love openly - don't hold back....
And if... because it will, life gets really hard for you - remember what my Angel told me -
Prevailing love is the best kind....
Blessings to you all and God Bless America.

Part 4 - Ten years ago...

So apparently cliff hangers are the way to go....
This section of the story is uncomfortable to write and will be, if he ever reads it, uncomfortable for Dan. I share these details ONLY because in order to understand the full scope of emotional turmoil waged on my spirit that year - you must have, at the very LEAST the facts - For this section, I tread lightly on details. Still too painful, still too raw.
A few weeks after I made my decision to continue on with the pregnancy, I called up my old boss Joan and told her what was going on in my world. I asked her if there was any way she would let me come back to the store and work very part time - I needed a diversion from the praying and the obsessing - I needed something to do other than contemplate all the possible scenario's, all the possible endings that could be coming my way - I had been a "TA" (teachers assistant) for the Greer elementary 5th grade up until the diagnosis, but I had taken leave and at that point school was out anyways, I had to do something other than watch marathon's of TLC's a baby story and bawl my eyes out, jealous of every beautiful birth and outcome.
It was there on my beloved downtown mall that I received the smack down that would send me into a very quiet, angry, sad, alone place where I would stay for a very long time. Hell, where pieces of me still remain.... This day was the beginning of the breaking apart, of not only my marriage, but my friendship with my husband.
I had gone to the Nook for a piece of quiche and I made my way slowly back down the mall towards the store. Right in front of the fountains I ran into a woman whose child I had had in my pre-school class from my days at Bright Beginnings. I hadn't seen her in forever, although a few years previous we had been quite close as I saw her daily and was the primary care-giver to her child. We hugged and chatted, 'caught up' - I didn't mention the baby because I never did - if I did - I cried and she didn't notice because of my empire waist dress that concealed my little tummy altogether. She looked at me, her head cocked slightly to the side, her hand reaching out to grab lightly on my arm and said "I'm sorry about you and Dan"....
What?
What? huh?
I processed the words and processed the words and tried to put them into scenarios in my head that made sense.
I came up blank.
And then I knew - flooded with a reality that changed my whole life in an instant.
What I knew five seconds ago - married, two kids, pregnancy with a baby with a clogged ventricle in his brain, suddenly looked easy.
I was back in the car looking at the trees thinking how simple it all had been. (figuratively)
Perspective... 5 seconds earlier - I was managing my hell - now everything was changing again.
I took in a deep breath as the reality of what was happening sunk in, I felt sick and dizzy and instinctively cupped my belly with my hand and rubbed, thought in my head - "it's okay baby, Mommy is okay, I am reeling, I can't breathe, I may faint - but it's okay" - regulate breaths, slow heart rate - remember the doctor said the baby feels everything.....
She looked at my hand on my belly - she could see that I was pregnant...
Her face changed and she took her hand from my arm, put it to her own mouth. She looked at me as the shock on my face told her she had just put her foot in her mouth, 'don't shoot the messenger'
"Oh honey" she said as she tried to back peddle - "I am mistaken, you're pregnant"
She glanced at the wedding band on my hand.
"I was wrong forget I said a thing"
Um yeah NO.
And so she went on to tell me that she had seen my husband with another woman back in April at the Blues and Brews festival. I was at the DMB concert at Scott stadium that night - perfect night for a real date on the town with his girlfriend...
No chance my wife will see me, horses can't drag her away from Dave.
I prodded - they looked "intimate" had been holding hands.
I walked away and resolved that for the time being, I would not say a word. I would die inside alone... My best friend, my HUSBAND, the Father of my damaged baby was screwing around with a woman he worked with.
I knew who it was immediately, crazy how a wife picks up on co-worker flirtation and catalogs it away for future use.
I went home and silently did my research, gathering information slow and steady, all the while growing apart from the man I needed the most, at a time when I really needed him the most.
He had cheated, he had lied and he worked with her.
Every day as he buttoned his shirt and sprayed his cologne and left the house for work - I died a little more...
I wasn't sure that there would be anything left of me, wasn't sure that I wanted there to be, but I held on for the kids - held on for the baby inside of me.
I made the choice and now the choice I have to make every day - Don't give up. Don't give in. Don't lay down and die.
I listened to Ben Harper's CD 'live from Mars' constantly - I am waiting on an Angel, a resting place in my angel's arms...
I wept slow and quiet and I waited....

Part 3 - Ten years ago

I remember calling Mary from the car, the first and last phone call I would make until much much later that evening. I have no idea what I said. I remember the drive home, remember thinking that I had taken all the simplicity for granted - I thought 'you had a good life' and now what? Nothing looks the same - not the roads, the trees, the darkening spring sky - what once was beautiful and easy is now gone and all you know is this hell. I kept thinking, just three hours, twenty minutes and sixteen seconds ago, life was good - just three hours, twenty one minutes and sixteen seconds ago - tick tock. I remember feeling disconnected from my previous life so significantly that my other children seemed foreign to me somehow - or maybe not them exactly, but my role as their Mother. Being the brain damaged baby's Mother was all I could be, it was all I had room for, all I could concentrate on. I took myself up the stairs, past the newly painted nursery into my bedroom and shut myself away in quiet to begin the bargaining process. I went to my jewelry box first and took out the rosary my Grandmother had given Brian for his first communion, I looped the beads around my fingers tight and put Jesus in my palm, held him so hard his cross dug through my skin. "Our Father who art in Heaven...." "Hail Mary full of Grace the Lord is with thee" Sobbing in the darkness I bargained. Okay God, if you wake me up and this has all been a test, I promise I will NEVER do a wrong thing again. Okay God if you want, you can take me, please Jesus, take me instead. Okay God I will do it, I will do whatever you want - just tell me and I will do it.... "Our Father who art in Heaven" around the beads for a second time, prayer after prayer, rocking on my bedside, back and forth back and forth, prayer after prayer after prayer. He kicked and I stopped rocking. I held my own stomach with my arms, placed my hand and Jesus to him, Oh God WHY? WHY MY BABY? I sobbed and I sobbed, I cried until there was nothing left inside of me to purge - except maybe for the baby with the bad ventricle and then I cried some more to imagine the sea weed sticks in my cervix, the labor, the pushing, the dying. I bolted up - this I can see in my mind, so vivid, so clear, I jumped up from the bed with purpose and I reached for the phone began pacing as I dialed - "Yes it is an emergency, please page Dr. Blommel now" I explained what had happened, I explained that Dr.T would call her with the report first thing in the morning, I explained about the "abortion" and I explained that we needed to do something to fix it all right the fuck now! She told me, "you must not cry like this Deb, you must calm down - remember he is alive inside of you, he can feel you, hear you, calm down honey, calm down" I felt as though she was placating me for a bad mood and I was angry - I felt so alone and so misunderstood - I wanted to scream "Don't you get it? I have interrupted your happy little dinner with your happy little healthy children because my baby's brain is black when it should be gray and he said sea weed sticks to induce a natural labor and I only have a week and there are no similar case studies to look at, and they can't see the fucking problem to go in and fix it, and I want to wake up now and my Baby is going to DIE!" I wanted to scream at God and the sky, at my Doctor, my husband - anyone - everyone. I felt so alone, I felt like the world kept on moving with no regard for the fact that my baby and I were all wrong, we were dying in the bedroom while everyone else was watching wheel of fortune or fucking jeopardy. "Our Father who art in Heaven" I remembered Nan's birthday - I have never missed her birthday and she knows the ultra sound was today.... I took a deep breath and dialed. As soon as I heard her voice, I cried openly, but this time not like an angry scared woman, this time to my Nana, I cried like a child - the way I did when that Bumble Bee in the back yard stung me for no reason... She soothed me, called me all the names I needed to be called, she told me to remember that we all have crosses to bear - remember that Jesus made his sacrifice for us.... Assured me that she would talk to God right away and together they would get this mess sorted out. I was raised a Catholic, but never, ever, in all my life have I had faith the way she did, and still does to this day. I wished that I believed like her, wished that I had a shred of confidence in the plan of God that she was always referencing - but I just didn't believe - except in her.... She assured me that God would fix it, and I trusted in her to do her thing with him, she would get the right combination of prayers and change the outcome of this nightmare - if any one could, it was definitely her. I hung up the phone feeling hopeful - Nana was working on God and I was working on being calm.... I called my Mother - with her I did not cry, I felt as though I was giving report off the evening chart at the end of my bed. Strangely, this is the most vivid memory I have from that first night - leaning on my bureau, biting my bottom lip as she said these words with the clench to her jaw that I could feel as well as hear "Well, if you hadn't moved to Virginia you could be here in Boston with the best hospitals in the country" Not - I love you..... Not - it will be okay. Not - what can I do? But rather "WELLLLLLL if you HADN'T....." - as if somehow I had asked for this by leaving home. I hung up the phone and cried for myself. I am a Motherless child soon to be a childless Mother. And I curled up into a ball and said the rosary again like Nana told me to - offer it up to Jesus. I offered it all up to Jesus over and over as I drifted into sleep that took me in spite of my need to keep on fervently praying. When I woke the next morning, the rosary beads were so tightly interlaced in my fingers that it hurt to unfurl them and free them from the twine. I called work and asked to speak to the principal, my boss - I would not be coming in, a leave of absence seemed appropriate and then she forwarded the call at my request to the third grade classroom of my friend Heather. She answered all cheerful as she rounded up the kids for the bus count before their field trip - "What?" she cried into the phone "Hold on" and she moved away from the kids so she could hear me - I sunk down on my bathroom floor, holding my head in my hands, panic rising again, leaning my back on the sink for support - "Heather I don't think I can do this." Two days passed and Dr. T faxed a case study from Tel Av iv Israel for me to look at - time's a tickin' five days and counting...These kids had hydrocephalus too, not even remotely the same issues as my son mind you, not the same blockage, not the same ventricle, but the closest it seemed in all the big world that we would get to my baby. A handful of kids in Israel with 'similar' issues was the best I had to go on while contemplating a late term abortion. All the babies but one, were severely impaired or deceased. The ones aborted showed major brain damage, except for one - the baby's brain dissection showed a resolved ventricle and a normal brain. I cried for that Mother, wailed at her choice, wailed for her guilt. I thought about mine. Could I do this? Late term abortion? Would I survive this? Did I have the right? And then, can I do this if he dies in my arms? Can I survive this if he is born to a severely impaired life of pain? What if he is damaged to the point of being hooked up to machinery to live? Can I unplug him then? Do I have the right to risk a life filled with pain and nothing beautiful for him? I read the case study. I took notes. I asked the same questions. I said the rosary. I read the case study again. I made a pro and con list. I asked myself all the same questions again, twice. I said the rosary. I did this over and over and over ...... And finally - I looked at Dan on the seventh day and said "I have decided to not terminate - I am going to carry til term" I think he disagreed, I think he thought the risk was too great - but, I never heard him out. My body, my decision, my child, my prayers, my guts, my feminist attitude - call it what you like. Thinking back on it now, I have no idea what I was thinking - I don't recall how I got to the decision, don't remember anything that led up to the words coming out of my mouth - they just did ...I knew nothing more or nothing less. I just knew that I knew.

Part 2 - Ten years ago.

What it meant, explained Dr. T nervously, was that my son had a condition known as hydrocephalus, which is commonly, but inaccurately referred to as "water on the brain" - for my nineteen week old son what this meant (I would come to understand better in the days following) was that something undetectable, undiagnosable was blocking the fourth, rear ventricle in his brain - this blockage was interrupting the constant flow of cerebral spinal fluid that is flowing through our bodies in a circular fashion at all times - in through the back right ventricle passed to the front right, over then to the front left and to the back left, down the spine and back up again, REPEAT - an ever constant loop of life precious fluid.
My son's back left ventricle looked like a kidney bean all swollen and big, when it should have looked, at least to my lay person eyes, like they variation of gray matter, indiscernible - just as on the right side.
I heard the words, I saw the photos in front of me, I saw Dan's wedding ring spinning out of the corner of my eye and I felt my baby move, inside of ME.
It is really difficult for me to articulate that moment in time....
If there are words that accurately convey it, I have yet to discover the proper sequence.
I cannot tell you what it felt like - All I can say, is that I have never in all my life felt the way I did in that moment.
I had been dizzy before - fainted even.
I had been nauseous before - puked my guts up.
I had felt fear - too many varieties to name.
I had felt grief - Omar's untimely death.
The moment I heard the words "your son's brain has developed abnormally" - I realized in my mind some concept of actual infinity - then, that every bad emotion I had ever known (on any scale in my life) had suddenly multiplied by this new fathomed endless concept, morphed into an actual animate object, and fell on top of me,crushing me, to within inches of my death or life - Yes, okay, breath making it to my lungs, but in a pinched stream of barely bursts.
Yes keeping me conscious but, only enough to feel the pain of breathing.
I watched Dan spin his ring..... And thought about my other boys, what would I say to them, how would I break the news to them, how would I ever be capable of comforting these two little men who had innocently and excitedly come to see their new baby?
What words would I use?
Abnormal brain development?
Clogged ventricle?
Special head?
The room got very grainy - I always describe it like the Andy Warhol pop art print of Marilyn Monroe - everything broke down to dots - atoms - the room around me was breaking apart.
The doctor gently explained that he had no answers, but that, when he has seen "similar" scenarios - the outcome has rarely been good.
So wait.....in my head...."you can't fix this?"
Wait....You are saying he is going to die?
Wait, what?
Wait, I want to go back to this afternoon when I was eating that stupid fucking nectarine.
Wait.....what is happening?
There was no diagnosis and may never be, unless the fetus was aborted, an autopsy performed, a brain dissection. - this could provide valuable answers - not that will help you naturally because your baby will be dead, but for future Mother's who will watch their husband spin their wedding bands right there in that very chair...
What? Abortion?
Yes - "You may want to consider termination"
But wait, he just kicked me - abort him? Why?
This cannot be fixed?
NO DIAGNOSIS - we just don't know what to fix....

I was then given what little information could be ascertained - Dr.T assured me he would research case studies and try to gather material for me to read to "weigh" the possible outcomes which could "sway" the direction of my decision.
But....."Keep in mind that you are almost outside the window of a legal abortion here in Virginia - if you choose to terminate here, it must be within the week... or we can travel to North Carolina where I have practicing rights and we can deliver the baby there."
Wait deliver the baby???
Yes - deliver the baby naturally and let him die in my arms.....
Dan stopped spinning his ring and stood up to shake Dr.T's warm hand, he told us "this is the part of my job I dread"
This is the part of my life I had no idea just an hour ago I would dread -
And I walked slowly, the weight on my chest crushing my lungs, I walked slowly to the elevator wanting to get inside of it and for the doors to close so I could be alone in private and finally, finally scream.
I remember leaning on the wall, holding on to the brass rail that lined the moving room - I was spinning so hard inside a scream couldn't form - I writhed about as something gathered inside me - something I didn't know, something I had never felt, something that I was afraid to feel, something that I thought might kill me when it was realized - I hummed in a moan of denial as the sound finally formed in my throat, I tried to swallow it out of pure fear, pure instinct.
The doors opened - I walked, breath getting harder to take - I walked out into the light of the beautiful May day, Nana's birthday - and as Dan told the boys to stay with me, he was going to retrieve the car - as I lost sight of his wedding band as he walked away, the thing that was rising inside me burst forth suddenly, heaving out of my body, literally sending me into my young son's arms -
He was ten at the time, Brian, my eldest, my over emotional child, he caught me when my legs gave out - he caught me as I cried out, a sound so distinct it can NEVER be mistaken for anything else - The cry, The plea, The prayer, The "NO" of a Mother who has just lost her child.

And with that - I need some moments to cry and stretch the tension out of my neck.
I warned you - tough stuff for me.

Ten years ago in May.

A dark morning seems about right....
It's a good morning none the less (thank you again and again Ms.Alli)
And with even more perspective than I had ten years ago - I approach going back in time with a heart and mind so full of gratefulness that I feel it could literally burst.
And yet, like all things of appreciation with me, there is a profound accompanying sadness that will travel, hand and hand.
This blog subject matter, will assuredly come in the form of a continued story which will, I imagine, take me several days to write - I will have to re-live as I blog and when it comes to this topic, it tends to get very emotional and taxing for me.
I am going to take you down memory lane - a path that as we travel will cover many many personal moments and some that will be familiar and unifying - even to those of you who read who do not know me personally - we will, as we approach the anniversary, touch gently on the subject of the September 11th terrorist attacks on my Country.
But before I get there - ten years ago today I had absolutely no idea that in four days time, the most significant historical event of my lifetime would be occurring.
For me personally, ten years ago today, I was privately preparing to give birth to a child I was sure would die in my arms as quickly as he had come into it.
I was in my own private hell, unknowingly on the brink of a Nation's hell...
And so we back we go...
I know that I have spoken of this before - and as I typed those words, my eyes burned with tears as salty water ran out of them like a faucet had been turned on rather than a sentence typed....
I know that I have written about Matthew's "special head" before, but it only seems fitting to tell the whole story on this monumental milestone.
Ten years ago on May 21st (my Nana's birthday) I was 19 weeks pregnant with my third child. I could not have been more excited or feeling more healthy, emotionally or physically.I had even fallen in love with nectarines which for my entire life, I had a strong aversion to in the texture department - they made my tongue feel all fuzzy. At 19 weeks pregnant I couldn't get enough nectarines and if they dripped juice down my arm, well than you better believe I was licking it off.
As I remember, May 21st of 2001 may very well have been a Wednesday or Thursday - the only reason I say this, is that previously in the week a co-worker/friend of mine from Greer elementary had gone to her OB/GYN for her 20 week ultra sound too - her first baby - there were like six of us at school pregnant at the same time.
There was a sadness weighing heavy on all the women at Greer that week because said friend/co-worker had gone to the ultra sound excited to see her baby for the first time (God that is an amazing moment) only to find that the baby had died in utero - no heart beat.
Because of the stage of her pregnancy, she would have to essentially deliver the deceased fetus.
I was saying then - exactly what I am saying now "I can't even imagine"
There is this really weird thing that happens when you hear of bad news and it hurts you, but you say "I can't imagine" and you MEAN it, literally, because life has never turned on you in quite such a harsh fashion - and then suddenly, unexpectedly, your "can't imagine" becomes your reality and you can imagine - every horrific detail.
That is what happened to me just a two days later when I collected my two young sons and my husband and we drove to Martha Jefferson Hospital for our first glimpse at our son and new baby (sex to be determined)....
I remember the day vividly - what I was wearing - how I felt - the magazine I thumbed through mindlessly - how I paced in the waiting room - the anxiety that filled my body that I didn't understand and blamed in the moment, on my unrelenting desire and hope that the baby would be a girl and somewhere deep down I knew it was a boy.
I wanted a girl so bad and I prayed for it - please God let me be wrong - let the nectarine fixation be indication that it is not a boy like I think it is...
I was desperate for a daughter.
I still feel bad to this day for ever thinking along lines of "preference" instead of health.
PERSPECTIVE comes down hard like a hammer to the skull or a vice grip to your heart.
When we went into the dark room, the ultra sound technician arranged the boys and Dan so they could all see the screen, jelly glob to the belly and the magic wand was off, swirling about on my skin producing pictures of my womb that amazed me all over again, each and every time I saw it - which, would end up being in excess of 30 times...But I run when I should walk - sorry...
I remember that my arms were over my head, I remember Brian and Kevin watching trying to figure out just what in the hell all that gray stuff was, "wait did she say that is a leg?"
And then, about 5 minutes in, my anxiety peaked as she circled the babies head and clicked her mouse again and again and again.
She asked "do you want to know the sex?"
Resounding "um yeah" - "It's a boy"
I felt nothing as she quickly moved the wand and pushed on my belly trying to get "him " to move so she could get a better picture of his head.
His head again.
I felt no disappointment about the boy thing - why is she at his head again???
She paused and called in the doctor and he introduced himself warmly "I am Dr. Thiagaraja, and I am going to just take a peek at this little boy"
Straight to the head - the two medical professionals exchanged a glance that only I noticed and my heart began to pound.
Sweet Jesus something is wrong with my son.....
Dr.T (as we called him) then used the phone in the room to call his assistant and see if she could entertain Brian and Kevin in her office for a bit while Dr. T took Dan and I to his.
My tummy was wiped clean, my pants pulled up and I choked silently on the scream that was rising in my throat as all the colors of my surroundings began to blur and sweat formed in swollen beads on my forehead.
I reached for Dan's hand and as he took it, I knew he didn't understand what was happening - there was calm in his palm, my fingers trembled and felt clammy and cold.
Dr.T's office had a large mahogany desk with two seats - Dan sat by the wall, me on the outside.
I watched Dan spin his wedding band on his hand, concentrating all of my energy on the action of the spinning, the methodical turning - I watched and tried to breathe in time - I remember this as if it were happening now.
Just watch Deb, spin, spin, breathe - it was like a CPR rhythm - compress, compress, give breath.
Then the pictures - 11 by 14's, glossy paper, many of them, one after the other turned towards me - magnified images of my son's brain.
Immediately, without any medical knowledge, I could see the problem.
Half of his brain had gray matter, half of it was pitch black.
PANIC rising - This cannot be right - what does this mean?

And with that - I have class - me and the cliff hangers lately....

For Alex

Good Rainy Morning to you.... I only have about ten minutes and then I have to fly off to my next class, although really what I want to do is go disappear in a comfy arm chair in the back of the library and sleep...I will survive though, big ass cup of coffee #2 just went down the gullet. Stop complaining Deb geez. I wanted to just take you down my morning thought path - this is what I was thinking as I drove to school through the mist of gray rain.... I was listening to Zac Brown "Free" as I wound down route 53. In my head, I could see Mary in the sun room at the PH house with a red pen in her hand, her long legs stretched out before her on the wicker table, a thoughtful concentration on her face as she revised a chapter of my book.... I could feel her - the vision was so detailed, so clear. I could hear her in the words Zac sang and especially in the sound of the violin as it cried. That image led me to a phone call we had recently... She called from a concert she was at in Portland - some local guy whose name I cannot recall, but voice I can. She called me at that very moment so that I could hear the song he was singing. She said "do you know what it is?" It was Tupelo Honey. She then explained to whoever was with her (Cameron I think) why that song warranted a call to me. "It was the song she heard on the radio one day and began to bawl - it was the moment she knew the baby she was carrying was a girl" My BFF is probably the only person that knows that and, would call me to share.... That thought led me to Alex - Alex is Alli's best friend (the young lady from my previous blog) My heart felt like lead and my eyes stung with tears as they filled up. I remember when I lost my best friend when I was 18... A few weeks in and life must go on. You must get out of bed. You must eat. You must go to class. You must recognize the world around you is doing the 'same old same old' BUT the world hasn't lost their best friend.... I remember getting pissed at my other friends who went to a party the weekend after Omar was buried. A party? I wanted to hide in a dark room and cry for all of eternity. Well sure a party for others - life DOES continue. But, for the BFF who has lost her other half - nothing makes much sense, especially fun stuff. I am thinking about Alex today and hoping that she does not feel too alone, but I am fully aware that she does. I barely know her - and yet I am thinking of her, praying for her and loving her in my mind and heart.... I wish that I could do something, anything to help her. I love my best friend more than words can EVER hope to articulate, communicate, convey - the pain of that loss would literally rip free from my life any sense of a foundation. I remember what it felt like at 18 and hope that I never know that reality again. I can only imagine Alex's pain. I know it makes no difference at all - but Alex, I am here if you need someone. Sigh - now I have exhaustion bags and mascara streaks....