I have a Facebook page I created to honor my sweet baby Hope, and while that has helped me heal, there is a need deep in my soul to be able to write about other things. I don't want to take away from the purpose of her page, so, this is what I've chosen to do. I make no other promises to anyone about what this will be, random, sweet, nasty or dark and despairing. But it will be mine, to get the words out of my head and let them fly where they will, to land and do what they must in this world, for good or ill.
My world is so much more than chaos, it's dark and twisting and beautiful and sublimely sweet. I have lost more in the last year and a half than most will ever have the nightmares of. I have lived, sometimes not well, through things that most think would kill them. And yet here I am. Somewhat intact, somewhat sane, somewhat learning to walk in the absence of pieces of my soul. I am a mess, I am healing. and I am breaking all at the same time. Words hold power, and some I have had to bottle up for so long that they are sapping the power they are from me.
My story is waiting to be written, one that my 7 year old inadvertently gave me the idea to write. She wants to write our family story. She isn't aware in her sweet innocence that our family story has become the stuff of nightmares, nightmares that never seem to end. So I'll use the pages of this blog to write our story, not in order, for where is the adventure in order? In the chaos that is what swirls around us daily.
The baby's due date is this week, in just 4 days, she should be turning one. She should be wrecking the Christmas tress, tearing the paper on the boxes and destroying the decorations that are strewn about our home. She's not doing any of that. She's been dead 14 months now. She was do very wanted, so loved and wanted that when the word Anencephaly was first uttered, it didn't sink into my brain. Mistake did, idiot doctor did, but not that horrid word I could scarcely pronounce let alone comprehend the meaning of. Anencephaly.
Such a fittingly horrific word for a nightmare birth defect. Lacking brain, that's what it means. Incompatible with life, that's what the doctors all said. She will die, there is no hope. So that's what we named her, Hope. Hope Noelle Turner. Our sweet 5th daughter, our fighter and in the end, our angel.
Her fight for what life she had isn't the only battle we undertook in 2014. Nor is hers the only one that was life altering and life threatening. But hers is the one people were allowed to see. Even then, we battle alone most days. There were other battles raging in our family while her sweet spirit grew her angel wings, battles that we didn't talk about but that killed my heart just the same. Battles that are still so raw words are running from me instead of being strung together to tell the story. I will find them, and use them, to help dispel the darkness their story is. In time, For now, for me, I'll add Hope's story as I can.
May 21 · 2014
"So, I went to my OB today, for the scariest visit i can remember. After last year, and losing the baby, i have been convinced that I would lose this one too. But, in spite of my fears, our little bean is strong and growing, major sigh of relief. (Facebook status)"
That was the first time we heard her heart, and saw her on the ultra sound. I read those words, and remember how relieved and excited I was. A new baby! I remember the Dr telling me that i could relax, hearing the heartbeat meant that our chances of carrying this baby went up to 98%. I remember it, and looking back, i know that i discounted that 2%. We started making plans, started adding one more child. At the time, we had some major chaos with another kid. Her mental health went south, and we focused on her, and getting her what she needed. I was after all in the 98% group right? I had lost one last year, this one was fine. So on we went, and things starting going bad. Stress brought on contractions, which meant meds and rest. And still, I was in the 98%, I just had to be careful. More Dr visits, only to check her heart, which was strong and healthy, in spite of contractions they would catch on ultra sound, she was fine. It was just my body being stupid. Until July 29th, that's how we lived. We planned, we talked about the new baby with the other girls, we laughed and we didn't worry about anything more than having a baby right before Christmas. Then came the trip to the ER that changed things forever. Contractions sent me in to be checked, Eric left work and met me there, and i remember telling him he was being silly, he should have stayed at work. They would run an ultra sound, put me on bed rest and all would be well. That was what would happen. What else could? I was activity contracting, but not in labor, and the ultra sound tech kept saying what an active baby we had! She couldn't get a good look at her head, but maybe this other one could, so in comes another tech. More chasing of the baby, more small talk, and chit chat. When they took me back to the ER to await the Dr, I was concerned that they wouldn't be able to get the contractions to stop. That was all that was on my mind. I remember every detail of that room, how cold i was, how much i had to pee, how my back was aching from the contractions. I will never be without the look on the Dr's face as he came in, it was blank, cold, to me dead. I asked what was going on and that's when he opened his mouth and blew my world to bits.
"Your baby has something wrong with it, it's got no brain or skull, it's going to die, you need to see your Dr to terminate". copied from her page on Facebook- For the Love of Hope.
