Cheerios and a Heartbeat

There's something about the 3 o'clock hour that beckons me to put pen to paper. Like most pregnant women, I sleep until a kick, twist, or potty break takes me – in a heartbeat - from slumber to silent stillness. And then there's the nighttime cereal snack, a must if I can navigate the night without disturbing one husband and two labs. On this night, their steady breathing tells me Cheerios are mine! Cheerios and a heartbeat: the story of being a mom. That's what this series of posts will be - a mom story. I write to heal; I write to remember; I write to force myself into further clarity. I write because I stumble in person. My brain either goes too fast during day light hours or it sputters like a weary car. Plus, some people don't know our story, and the looks of sadness they give me when I surprise them with the news remind me my heart is broken too. But here, protected by pen and peace, I am safe. "The little bat screamed out in fright: turn on the dark, I'm afraid of the light!" My dad used to say that to me when I couldn't sleep. I should mention: this is also a dad story. Without Kevin, my best friend and the Christian leader of our family, this moment wouldn't be this moment. Dads get overlooked during pregnancies, and that's a shame. Good dads are a source of strength, comfort and compassion. Kevin is the best. Our love story is its own God-filled blessing. But it's easy to talk about the fun stuff. This is a chronicle of the stormy stuff - the stuff that tells you what you do or don't believe and shows you who you really are. 

Wednesday Nov. 6, 2013 had been the most important date on my calendar since we found out we were expecting a child due March 29, 2014. Nov. 6 would be our 20-week ultrasound, the big gender reveal, just 10 days before my 37^th birthday – the perfect gift! After months of self restraint, we also would post our baby news on Facebook letting the online cocktail party explode with celebration and well wishes. At an impromptu Sunday brunch, two of my girlfriends (sweetly) ambushed me with the idea of a Gender Reveal Party the following Friday night. We were excited. Despite the hostesses’ enthusiasm, I only wanted about nine people there – the people who’d prayed for us most in our 15-month journey toward trying to have a child. So the word party is a little misleading – more of a chili-meets-fellowship-meets-blue-or-pink-cake occasion. I had some words warming in my head for the gathering. Right before the first slice, I would go around the room and tell each person why they were there and what they mean to us. We would Skype Kevin’s parents in from New Jersey. Our pastor would praise God and pray with us. But I digress.

In effort to frame this journey, I’ll also mention that we had had our first (and only) consultation with a fertility specialist in July. We didn’t know it at the time, but we already were pregnant when we sat in the specialist’s office scratching our heads as to why we couldn’t conceive naturally. “God is funny” one of my friend’s texted me – months later – after we excitedly explained the timing of it all.

We didn’t tell anyone in person until we were about 13 weeks (late September) and when we did another friend – this time one in my Tuesday women’s Bible study burst into tears – the raw joy of a longtime prayer request answered. She sent me the following text: “Lee – I am (clearly) so excited for you and Kevin!!! That news just made my year! Overwhelmed by God’s blessings! He is so good to us! Continued prayers for Holt party of 3 now. For you and the health of Baby H. That you can rest and ‘enjoy your misery’ as (another friend) put it. Lots of love!!”

I have to stop to say here that my Tuesday Bible study group is beyond special and tight. We don’t   necessarily hang out socially, but we gather spiritually to share a common struggle –trying to live for Christ in a sinful world. This August our 54-year-old group leader died of stage IV cancer. She was diagnosed in January – just a few weeks after her daughter gave birth to triplets, which was the result of some three years of prayers and effort. Our leader’s visitation was on the same day the triplets were baptized. The family gathered twice that day in the same sanctuary of the same church and praised the same God our Father – accepting His will and experiencing the undeniable contrast of joy and pain. It was a picture of the Gospel; the Commercial Appeal’s Geoff Calkins wrote a front page column about it the day after the funeral. Look it up.

Our same Bible Study – keep in mind this is only about a dozen women – mourned from a distance as one of our member’s brother buried his 3-year-old daughter in October. The Colorado-based parents put their elder child to bed one night, and she didn’t wake up. She died peacefully from a brain hemorrhage. I’m unclear on all the details, but I saw the sadness mixed with faith in my friend’s eyes as she tearfully talked about it in our group. A family of four was instantly only three. God’s will – the kind you don’t hear about unless you’re entrenched in a community of believers.

Our larger church family is no stranger to experiencing God’s will. On my second wedding anniversary, March 5 of this year, we also buried a 36-year-old father of three who died after a tree fell on him at another Bible study group’s husband’s retreat in Pickwick. God’s will in action turned a young mother, who is now one of my closest friends, into a widow – left to care for a then 7-month-old boy and two girls, then 7 and 9. They capture my heart on a daily basis.

Kevin and I have experienced a total of six deaths since January. In addition to the three mentioned above, my best friend’s mother died unexpectedly at age 64 in Atlanta, my sister’s father-in-law died from aggressive cancer at age 66 in Raleigh NC, and the woman who cared for me every Tuesday and Thursday for as long as I can remember died after a prolonged illness at age 85 in Memphis. 2013 has been a framework for the days to come. Not because bad things happen to good people but because I thought I believed in God and talked about Him a lot, especially as my loved ones experienced their personal loss and grief. My words of comfort and attempts at pointing them to the Cross were sincere – no doubt about it. But I didn’t know the depth of my love and trust in God until He asked me, personally, what I really believe. The talk was about to turn into a walk – a walk that faith alone could enable.

Fast forward to the slowest day of my life, Nov. 6, 10:30 am at our ultrasound. Instead of learning our baby’s gender, our doctor told us our baby will not survive. At 20 weeks, he or she seemed to have two bad kidneys, and he referred us to a specialist the next morning for confirmation. Kevin and I hugged and cried in the doctor’s office. I guess the nurse thought we had left because eventually she came back into the room. Shock makes time stand still. We had taken two cars because Kevin was going to go back to work. Instead I followed Kevin home separately gripping my wheel tightly through the sobbing, concentrating only on keeping my eyes on his car. Sometimes tears are steady streams of sadness; other times they are blinding. If it hadn’t been my husband I was following, I don’t know whether I would have cared whether I hit anything along the way or not. Once home, I’m not sure what happened next. Kevin called his boss who promptly told him to take as much time as he needed. Our 10:30 appointment had turned into a 1 pm stupor. I needed to eat – I always enjoy food but Pregnant Lee is a force of nature and metabolism that I cannot explain. In 20 weeks, I had never missed a snack much less a meal. We went for Chinese take-out during a particularly hard part of the downpour. Did I say it was raining? … a steady rain the whole day – a mirror of our leaking hearts. Before we got out of the car to order, we had to face the issue of the Gender Reveal Party. The plan had been to put a sealed note in her mailbox after the morning ultrasound. She’d then rush it to the baker who would then bake the pink or blue cake in time for Friday’s get together.

“There’s no cake and - please don’t tell anyone yet - but there’s probably no party. We’re seeing a specialist tomorrow and I’ll talk to you more after that,” I told her. Kevin has said I had a remarkable calmness in my voice, but it disintegrated once I was off the phone. Our friend had told me she was with her husband in that moment and that they would pray and we would talk the next day. I love her. (Her husband is the one who set Kevin up with me January of 2010. Eleven months later Kevin proposed. Less than four months later, we married. Kevin is a gift from God; I’ve always said that. And if you believe everything is from God, you can’t choose what is and what is not one of His gifts. You have to say thank you every time.)

Inside the restaurant, Kevin stood surrounding me while I sat on a bar stool softly seeping into paper napkins. He often stood in that protective position when we were dating – even when there were lots of seats available, he liked to stand close – body language signaling total focus on me. We spoke to each other thinking of medical questions to ask; priorities to rearrange; family to tell? Sesame chicken and my concept of time were skewed. We came home, gorged, and numbly watched Roman Holiday, a movie Kevin had recently mentioned. We were, after all, waiting for confirmation from the specialist. We needed details. We did Ok until the movie ended. So we watched another one. I can’t remember the name. There was more crying than sleeping that night. At some point we each called our parents. I don’t know what we said; I can’t remember the details, but we said we’d talk again tomorrow. Kevin sent an email to his Thursday morning Bible study that meets at our home asking that tomorrow’s session be at someone else’s house. We wept and waited.

Thursday Nov. 7 8:30 am – To say I was crying the whole time in the waiting room would be like saying Super Storm Sandy or Hurricane Katrina were weather incidents. I couldn’t keep my eyes open so I don’t know if people stared at us or not. Kevin helped me fill out the paperwork; I couldn’t answer easy questions like my birthday, and I was irritated by medical questions that only mommies of healthy babies would want to answer. In short, the specialist confirmed the results of the prior day’s ultrasound. The two new ultrasounds took mere minutes but the doctor reviewed the results about an hour. Yet another friend sent the following text while we waited in a private room: “We love yall! Yall are in and will be in our thoughts and prayers. (Party hostess) said to just pray and that’s what we have been doing last night together and today separately. Let us know if we can help in any way and know we are here. Love yall! John 14:27 Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.”

Back at home by late morning, I updated our parents again, and Kevin decided he’d missed enough work. En route, he cancelled his lunch appointment – with his close friend who is also our Sunday school pastor. The pastor offered to come to our house to pray with us, our senior pastor, and two close mentors who have shepherded us over the years. Sometime that afternoon, the pastor’s wife who is also in my Tuesday Bible study, came over unexpectedly and sat with me, listened, cried and prayed. She didn’t know what to say, but I can tell you now: it doesn’t matter whether you have words in a crisis, what matters is physical presence and shared suffering. The person going through the crisis doesn’t hear anything other than “I’m sorry, and I love you.” Don’t be afraid to enter into someone’s sadness.

The four men came and went. Kevin cooked a piece of salmon my parents dropped off for our dinner. I cried as I forced myself to eat it. I knelt by our bed, collapsed in prayer by myself. Earlier I had prayed with Kevin but this was a prayer of dependence and surrender. I asked God to read my mind and know my thoughts because I could not process them myself. At dinner, we talked about how we have to fight for our marriage and I admitted I would need help drawing closer to my husband because – in past relationships - my instinct was to pull away. I have never felt as alone as I did that night – the perfect entry point for the Devil to attack. Satan loves a wounded heart and a weakened spirit. That was my worst night. With continuous crying you sacrifice one side of your face to being utterly stopped up in hopes that the other side will clear. I had to breathe through my mouth, a loud proposition, and I wanted Kevin to get some rest. Add pregnancy stiffness and a tiny drummer on your bladder and it became a waiting game until dawn. Finally, it came to me: a song from childhood. “In my life Lord, be glorified. Be glorified. … In my heart, Lord, be glorified…” I sang it in my head over and over and over again. I took comfort in Kevin’s steady breathing. I slept an hour or so.

 Friday Nov. 8 I spent all day Friday seeking wisdom from women who had been down similar roads of loss and grief. I won’t name them since no one knows I’m chronicling this. Some were old friends; some were instant confidants because of our shared experiences. By Friday afternoon, I accepted God’s will in this: we would deliver a baby who would die. We were 20 weeks in and had 20 weeks to go. Kevin and I are a team, not adversaries. He is a man and I am a woman – so we are different - but we are each children of God. I knew that logically before today but I was blinded by pain and fear so everything was distorted for awhile. Fear is a powerful thing. And love is the only motivator stronger than fear. God loves us; God planned this for us; God does not make mistakes. Therefore, we are Ok. I told all this to Kevin, but I didn’t trust myself in my extreme exhaustion to tell anyone else that night, so I didn’t say anything until the next day.

Saturday Nov. 9: I woke up about 4:30 in the morning after my first decent night’s sleep and crawled into Kevin’s arms apologizing with kisses and puddles in my eyes instead of full tears. Kevin was unfaltering in his faith and compassion for me since the beginning, and I had been seized with fear. “I must have scared you to death,” I confessed finally aware of how callous some of my words must have been.  True to his nature, he didn’t say anything other than words of comfort and love. He loves me well. I woke up with peace – not because I suddenly was OK with losing the hopes and dreams of our child, but because God put peace in my heart that this is His will and He planned it from the beginning of time. Of course, I’m not supposed to understand it. Liking it or disliking it is not relevant. Either the Bible is true or it isn’t. Either Jesus was a real person who walked on earth some 2000 years ago or he was a crazy person whose fairy tale life just happens to be what we use to measure time. Either I, Lee, believe or I don’t. I do believe. God asked me whether I believe and I do. It’s that simple. I’m thankful my husband does too. I’m thankful for the Christian friends and family who also helped me through those first frightening hours. I’m thankful for a peace that surpasses understanding.

Sunday Nov. 10 – We went to church like normal. We got lots of hugs. Touch is critically important to each of us, so that was wonderful. We went to the sanctuary service but skipped out on Sunday school because our pastor was going to tell the 30-somethings community and pray for us. Yet another friend stopped her mini-van in the parking lot as we were leaving and hugged us. She couldn’t believe we were at church; we told her it was by God’s strength that we were there – dry-eyed, well rested, thankful for this blessing. Blessing? Yes. Some people go their whole lives not really knowing what they believe – what is real. That is a huge gift all by itself. The related gifts are exponential: our marriage is strengthened; our faith is secure; our community is loving; our hope is eternal. Every person we’ve met, every friend who has faced loss – especially shocking/unexpected loss – helped prepare us for our journey. I cannot stress the importance of a community of believers enough. We went home and took it easy.

Monday Nov. 11 – I spent the morning baking chocolate chip cookies for my doctor and the specialist that we saw last week and writing them each a note of thanks. I also dropped off a couple of cookies at my parent’s house along with the following letter. 

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Dear Mom and Dad,

I love you. I love you both very much. You raised me so well. You are wonderful parents. You are very, very, very important to me. Dad used to say something along the lines of, “It’s nice for people to be nice, but it’s more important for them to be consistent. If they’re consistently a jerk, fine. I’ll always know how to handle them because they’ll be consistent.” – or something to that effect – forgive the sloppy paraphrase.

I thought I’d review some past experiences in hopes of showing consistency. I’m the same little girl who sang daily at St. Mary’s for some 12 years: “Day by Day, Dear Lord of these three things I pray: to see you more clearly, love you more dearly, follow you more nearly – Day by Day. Amen”

I’m the same post college student who delivered Mimi’s eulogy without crying on behalf of the family. God’s peace allowed me to do that. He gave me the strength and He alone. We rejoiced in her life together and grieved together.

I’m the same working journalist who could only sleep during the heartbreak of lost boyfriends by literally singing myself to sleep. The song was always the same: “Jesus loves me this I know. For the Bible tells me so. Little ones to Him belong. They are weak but He is strong.” Over and over and over again.

I’m the same Realtor who mentioned at Ma’s death at St. Francis Hospital that – when a hospital staffer asked if we needed a priest to pray over her – I said she lived her whole life as a Christian – she lived it – so we knew she was good with God and that the offered service was not necessary.

I’m the same engaged woman who walked down my wedding aisle to “Crown Him With Many Crowns” because I wanted the focus of the occasion to be on God’s glory and not on anything else. I’m the same wife who believes Kevin is a gift from God – as are all the seconds of each day that each of us has on this earth together.

And now I’m the same married woman with a child inside me on a road paved with suffering and pain – both physical and emotional - and I see joy and light and God in the journey. God is in charge of it; God will use it for good and to His glory. I didn’t wake up one day and decide to be joyful of my own strength. The Holy Spirit put joy inside of me and an appreciation for God’s blessing of this experience and an excitement to see what He will do with it. I trust in Him.

I hope that your prayer is that God be glorified in this. No matter the circumstance, say “Thank you, Jesus” when you don’t have the words to say anything at all. Praise Him through the pain and He will lead us all exactly where He wants us to be.

The song that came back to me from childhood when I was crying myself to sleep the first night, Wednesday Nov. 6, was: “In my life, Lord, be glorified. Be glorified. In my heart, Lord; be glorified – today.”

I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU.     Love, Lee

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To cap off this first day of our new normal, I went to my office to tell three select people together: my mentor, office manager, and boss. I did; the women cried; we prayed. Their tears expressed the love I knew they had for me; their pained faces expressed the shock that I had known only days before. They could see my peace. It felt good to move the experience away from the pain to praise, and it felt good for people I care about in my daily routine to know about it. That night, like most Mondays, I went to my young widow friend’s house to help her girls do homework, eat together, and generally love each other. Our bond is even closer now. Our grief is different; our stories are different; our dependence on God is the same. I was amazed at how safe I felt in her house. I think shared suffering in any form creates that warmth and acceptance. Again, it’s a peace that surpasses understanding.

Tuesday Nov. 12 – I wrote a draft email to send to the rest of my office. I wanted Kevin to read it first, and like always I wanted to sleep on it in case I was more batty than I could discern. (I was living on an extra amount of sugar these days – I failed to mention the friends who dropped off food, sweets, flowers, and books along with their tight squeezes of love). I began the week-long process of calling other friends and extended family who I wanted to hear it from me rather than from anyone else. I attended my Bible study’s seasonal in-home potluck gathering. It was good to be with them in a casual setting. Word leaked out that one of the women, who is due a week after me, found out they are going to have a girl – their fourth child. They remained wonderful women – full of encouragement and faith.

Wednesday Nov. 13 – We attended our regular Wednesday night small group at church and shared more hugs and more details of our story and heard personal testimonies that I cherish having heard. If I told you the God part of what was shared that night, you’d be blown away. But it’s not my story to share. Also, I sent the following email to my coworkers.

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Friends and colleagues,

I wish I had good news to share. Kevin and I have been through 2 doctors and 3 ultrasounds since last Wednesday when we went in for a routine 20-week ultrasound with thoughts of learning our baby’s gender. We are due March 29. Instead we could not determine gender because there was not enough amniotic fluid around the baby to see all the organs clearly. (It is a contrast between solids and liquids that make ultrasounds easy to read.) Worse, we learned our baby is in double kidney failure – a condition that on average shows up about 28 weeks. (The first trimester the mother provides the amniotic fluid for the baby; during the second three months, that job gradually transfers to the child’s kidneys.) It is routinely survivable when only one kidney is impacted. With both kidneys, a term called bilateral, it becomes a terminal condition called multicystic dysplastic kidneys. A major function of the kidneys is providing amniotic fluid which allows the lungs to practice working, a critical skill at birth. Even if a kidney transplant was on the table at birth, the lungs will likely fail. His/her heart is strong and his/her kicks are happy and consistent – as they have been from the start. This is not a condition that comes with warning signs.

We know God led us here and God will lead us out of here; He does not make mistakes and He is not hurting us or mad at us. He is good and this is a joyous opportunity to draw closer to Him and trust in His promise. It is possible that our baby will be born, take a breath, and meet Jesus. If you think about it, that’s a life knowing only love from us as parents and love from God – that’s pretty awesome. We cherish this time and have tremendous peace and comfort. I told Sally, Norma and Jules this in person on Monday. It was important that they hear my voice, see my eyes, and know that I’m Ok – physically and emotionally. I’m more than Ok actually, I’ve been given a chance to walk the walk of my faith. If God were small enough for me to understand Him entirely, He wouldn’t be big enough for me to trust Him entirely. (In other words, don’t try to “get it” – we’re not supposed to – we didn’t create the universe.) I don’t have any anger; I have a supernatural peace. That’s a weird thing to read in an email, so I’d encourage you to talk to me or ask Sally, Norma or Jules – or sweet wonderful Lexie who has held my hand from the beginning – if your heart or head needs comforting.

Kevin and I rejoice in this gift the Lord has given to us and pray that He would be glorified in it. Like Kevin has said, He is already teaching us so much, and we have so much more to learn. We pray for a miracle from the only One who is capable. Thanksgiving and praise always precede the miracle. And THIS is the day the Lord has made. … You know the rest!  =)

“Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.” John 14:27

Love, Lee

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Thursday, Friday – Received encouraging feedback from a ton of people.  We forwarded the email to others who we wanted to reach out to. I called people who didn’t even know we were pregnant to fill them in – again so they wouldn’t hear it from the grapevine. Awkward, but necessary.

Saturday Nov. 16– My 37^th birthday. I had real joy in the moment – by the grace of God. My sweet husband ran 20 miles as he prepped for his first full marathon in December. We ate like kings throughout the day, and my parents who had experienced a week of healing and hope took us out for a great dinner that night. I continued to sleep well – happy at heart – extra thankful for the love of family and friends.

Sunday Nov. 17 – Sanctuary worship like normal and a very special Sunday school service delivered by an elder at our church who shared a personal testimony with the group relating to memories of a similar trial in their lives decades ago. After that, Kevin went on a bus trip with 20 or so guy friends – a seminar in Nashville with return trip the same night. I mention this because I was struggling with having him go. Peace in God’s will does not mean an eradication of fear. It means you can respond to fear with more wisdom and hopefully maturity. But once something shocking happens to you – in our case the medical reality that our baby would be taken away from us – you lose your footing in what normal is. In other words, I was afraid the bus would crash; my husband would die; I would again be in the deep end of this broken world. These are evil – and fleeting - thoughts that sneak into active minds. Unexpected grief turns into a welcome mat for these thoughts to walk through the front door of your brain because what shouldn’t happen sometimes does happen.  And you don’t forget that. Of course, the six-hour round trip was safe and uneventful. I just mention it for transparency. Worry is a sin. God is who you talk to when you have to rein in your own brain. This is also the day that I wrote in my daily calendar to journal the last 11 days. You’ll note it ended up taking me a full month to write all this down!

The following week was routine, all be it different. The next noteworthy thing was a Saturday Nov. 23 visit from the daughter of a church member who lives in Little Rock with a similar walk of faith. She and her husband’s third child was diagnosed with a terminal condition via ultrasound and was born nearly to term and lived less than one day. We were the first people in a similar situation for them to talk to about their loss, how it changed them, and how they’ve continued to live in God’s arms. Their raw emotion told me ours is going to be a long road and that I’m more naïve and ill equipped than I could have imagined. In short, we have a lot of suffering and challenges yet to go. I hate to acknowledge that but it reinforces that we need grace, grace, and more grace. It’s good to have mentors especially in such a sad situation. Their message was encouraging and eye-opening.

Nov. 28 – We hosted Thanksgiving with our family. Again Pregnant Lee’s palate was satisfied. We had a dessert to guest ratio of 3 to 4 and 3 pounds of turkey per person. Beautiful.  That holiday weekend we also got to see family from North Carolina and Minnesota and saw the greatest Iron Bowl of my lifetime together: where one second, one touchdown, and one team walked onto the sports history pages making this Auburn grad very, very happy. Good times!

Dec. 6 – Present day. All caught up. Thankful the St. Jude marathon just got cancelled because cheering for my hubby in 20 degree weather was not something I was looking forward to…. Today’s ice storm provided the perfect background for getting the rest of this on paper.

Dec. 10 – Finally ready to have Kevin read this and possibly post it. That way everyone will know and everyone will pray: 1. For God to be glorified 2. For a miracle – no idea what that would mean – it could mean just one person who doesn’t know Christ will come to know Him. It could mean our baby will be born healthy. It could mean something I’ll never know about will happen as a result of sharing this experience. 3. For continued peace, strength in our marriage, and grace to the people around us – especially people we don’t know. Love, Lee