Strength

Strongest

I think what most people say to me is that I am strong, “The strongest person they know.” And I don’t understand this. I don’t feel exceptionally strong. I feel quite average.

I feel like my “strength” is easily explained. I’m strong because I have no choice. We all face difficult times as we raise our children, each person has a different circumstance that calls them to do what they have to for their baby (no matter how old). My challenge didn’t happen in Brielle’s teens. It didn’t happen as a child. As an adult after a crisis. My time to step up as a parent and mother happened in Brielle’s earliest days. And maybe this is what people find admirable. But really, it is no different.

Brielle needed me to love her. She needed me to protect her and give her the best life she could have. What else was I to do? I could have aborted her, but would you abort your teenage daughter struggling with depression? Your child recently diagnosed with autism? Your grown son who was just diagnosed with cancer? No, you wouldn’t. You may get frustrated. You may not know what to do, but you would do your best for your baby. All I did was the best I could for Brielle. And so I don’t feel exceptionally strong, I just feel like a mother. A mother that was faced with difficult circumstances. And I did my job. I did my best.

Maybe it was that I had the choice. I could have aborted Brielle. Maybe not taking the option is what people find so amazing. As if it was an out, an easy solution to a horrific tragedy. But it’s not an out. It’s not any easier. There’s an entire support group filled with bitter mothers who aborted their babies with anencephaly, hoping it would be an easy out, only to find it wasn’t. There’s no taking back an abortion. There’s nothing you can tell yourself to fill that void. The void of regret.

I am future oriented. What I mean by that, is that I spend most of my time in the future. I plan, think, and dream of tomorrow and the days to come. And I know myself very well. I knew who I would be if I aborted Brielle. The draw of a new healthy baby a few months after Brielle was aborted was appealing. But looking down that road I knew it would tear me to pieces. I’d destroy myself with regret and agony. I would live a life violating my conscious with no way to correct the hole in my heart.

I’m not here to start an anti abortion campaign. That’s too political and I don’t want to mar Brielle’s legacy with politics. But I do want people to understand that I did take the easy out. I knew which of the two options would be the most difficult to live with and I chose the easiest one. I chose to love Brielle. And it wasn’t hard. It’s not hard. I miss Brielle so much. But I get to miss her. I have memories of her. I met her, held her, told her I loved her. None of those things are hard. They don’t require strength. They just require a heart and we all have one of those.

When I go to bed at night, I’ll hold Brielle, sob through “I’ll Love you Forever,” tell her goodnight and go to sleep. And I sleep peacefully. I ache. But my dreams aren’t sad. I am not haunted by worry. By the fear that I made a mistake. By guilt over a new pregnancy that I chose to replace the anencephalic baby I had.

If I had chosen the “easy” option everyone thinks abortion is, I would spend the rest of my life filled with a horrific ache. And a guilt that no one could imagine. I would never have forgiven myself. That kind of pain requires super human strength. And it is not something I am strong enough to endure. I am in awe of those that carry on, silently grieving their loss. A loss that they cannot speak to anyone about. A loss that haunts them. The mother’s who chose the path that I did not deserve our love, support, mercy, and encouragement. They carry a burden that is unimaginable.

The Most Heartbreaking Thing About Our Time With Brielle

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This is another hard post for me to share. It has to do with the harsh realities of being with a dead body. Again, a little graphic. I know it’s strange that I’m sharing these details. But there may be people who are (will) going through a similar situation as I am and I want them to be aware of what happens, how it feels. I wish I had thought to ask someone what to do in these situations. No one tells you how to preserve a body, but still spend time with it. A really awful and weird thing to talk about. Fair warning.

“After our family left, David and I spent time with Brielle. We snuggled her and I took a nap with her as well. We could tell that her eyes were starting to deteriorate and it broke our hearts.

Matt (our nephew – David’s brother’s son) had told us he would come down after work on Friday (from Chattanooga). He arrived around 9:30 PM. It was really nice to see him. David and I both commented on how serious he was and that it was the first time he had looked his age and even looked old. That made me a little sad. He’s easy going like David and generally looks young and carefree, I didn’t want him to carry our burden too. He held Brielle and was very somber. He seemed happy in a sad way. Happy to meet her, but sad that it was this way. This was his first female cousin and really the only one he would have spent much time with. He was very gentle with her. It was sweet.

By the time Matt left, Brielle’s eyes were so fragile they were about the consistency of jelly. Just touching them and they felt like they would collapse at the slightest touch. It broke our hearts. I texted Lauren and asked her what to do. She told us to wrap her in ice, in this very elaborate way, and then to put Vaseline on surgical gauze and cover her eyes with the gauze and then put a hat on top of her eyes. It tore David and I up, thinking of covering her eyes forever. We took last pictures with her with her eyes exposed. I cried the whole time. All I can see is my beautiful daughter, it breaks my heart just thinking of having to hide her face to protect it from decay. Awful, awful moment. One of the worst times in our lives.

We took lots of pictures and then put her in her bassinet. We took a long video of her cute little body. I documented every little part of her and described what it was all like. We looked at every part of her and I cried over each. She truly is beautifully and wonderfully made. She’s perfect. Perfect hands, perfect feet. Beautiful legs and arms. She had such a strong body. I’ve never seen a baby with such a strong body. After we videoed, we wrapped Brielle in her ice pack swaddle. The saddest thing we ever did.

The ice swaddle was difficult to figure out at first and then made perfect sense. We had the nurse bring us gallon bags of ice and we used chux pads that were in the room with me. And then three receiving blankets. As I was doing this my hospital band caught Brielle’s leg and cut her. I nearly fell on the floor crying. I know and knew at the time that it didn’t hurt her, how could it? But it hurt me. It felt like a knife to my heart. I had inadvertently hurt my baby. I had damaged my sweet perfect Brielle. I put a band aid on it, to make it better, I’m her Mommy that’s what I do. Then I realized if it’s pulled off it might peel her skin off. At that point I curled up on the bed and bawled. Horrible, stabbing, heart wrenching pain. David wrapped his arms around me and told me it was okay. He did his best to console me.

We then covered her eyes with gauze and Vaseline. That was even worse. We lost half her face in the process and it tore me apart. I know David felt the same. We couldn’t bare hiding her. Covering her face. It felt like we were betraying who she was. I know it was for the best, but that doesn’t change how it feels. And it was awful to lose that. It felt as if we had lost another piece of her. Like she was slowly disappearing in front of our eyes. It still rips us apart. Had I known at the time that I’d get to see her eyes again it might not have been as hard, but I didn’t know that. David and I thought this was the last time we’d see Brielle’s face. And it felt like goodbye. This night felt more like a funeral for us than her actual funeral did.

After she was covered and her body prepared for preservation, I gathered all of her toys and opened the Rachel’s Gift box. Inside was a beautiful blanket, very soft, a gorgeous knit bonnet, and another toy for her. I called that toy her Angel Dragon Bear. I’ve never understood why bears need wings. Which is why that bear’s name is Angel Dragon Bear. I get my awesome naming skills from my Indian family.

We wrapped her up, tucked her in tight, and propped her on her side so that I could see her as I slept. I put her elephant in the bed with her with it’s arms on her side, guarding her. Her purple rubber ducky on the top left corner (the left corner near her head) and I snuggled the two teddy’s the Angel Dragon Bear and the pink fuzzy bear that Linda gave us, at her feet. I made sure everything was perfect for her. And then I sobbed. And sobbed. David and I tried to comfort each other, but it was just awful. It felt like we had ripped our own hearts out for the betterment of Brielle. I think this moment may have been worse or just as bad as when she died.

David and I went to bed that night completely heartbroken. I didn’t sleep with Brielle that night either, but kept my body and hand as close to her as possible. This broke me. This night was impossible and I’m not sure how we got through it.”

Part Three: The Delivery

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This post is about the delivery. What happened and how Brielle did. There are some graphic elements I talk about. I don’t see a point in keeping them from you all, I haven’t kept anything else from you, why start now? This time, is what David and I struggle with the most. These moments we had with Brielle were beyond painful. No one should watch their child struggle and die. But, we also wouldn’t trade that experience with her, because it was her chance to show us what she felt and how strong she was. She was amazing.

“Dr. Bootstaylor let David come into the OR with us, Lauren and Jamie waited outside. Dr. Bootstaylor is so funny, technically the husband is not allowed until the anesthesiologist has given the okay, but he didn’t care. He just let us come in and waited to see if Dr. Phoenix was okay with it or not. Dr. Phoenix wasn’t there so David had to go back out and wait in the family room with Lauren and Jamie. David has some funny memories from that wait, which was like a 45 minute wait.

Robin had me step on a stool and get up on the operating table, which was extremely small and had me wondering how I was going to fit. Dr. Bootstaylor hung out with me for a bit until Dr. Phoenix arrived and we talked about things. He was really kind and encouraging. I can’t remember what we talked about, it wasn’t pivotal or anything, just pleasant conversation. I could tell he was trying to put us all at ease, everyone knew what a hard surgery this was going to be. He stepped away to scrub in when Dr. Phoenix arrived, I appreciated Dr. Bootstaylor keeping me company to comfort me until Dr. Phoenix arrived.

Nana, the midwife for my case came over and said something about if I was part of the faith. I told her that I was and she talked to me about how we don’t always understand why things happen, but that God has our best interest at heart. She is a minister’s wife. She stood with me the whole time and encouraged me. She put her hands on my shoulders and comforted me the whole time I waited for Dr. Phoenix and while he injected the needles into my back and put in the spinal block. Everyone said that would be a horrible experience, but it really wasn’t bad at all. When he asked me to bend over the chairs were too close together and I told them I’d have to spread my legs more if I was going to bend over. My belly was huge! Brielle had been moving around, but I forgot to remember her last movement in my tummy. When he injected the spinal block I began to feel a numbness, but I wasn’t as numb as I expected.

They had me get on my back and move my feet where they were touching each other, pad to pad. They began to put monitors on my arms. The man behind me was monitoring my vitals and pain levels. Nana came and stood to my left. I was pretty numb by this point. As they put up the curtain I began to cry and Nana asked what was wrong. I told her I’ll never feel Brielle move again. It had just hit me that I had forgotten that moment and to remember it. I then asked, in a very worried voice, where David was. Nana said they wouldn’t start until he was here. A few minutes later I felt Brielle move up near my stomach. It felt like she was flipping or doing some serious wiggles. It made me so happy. God and Brielle gave me that sweet moment and I’ll treasure it forever. At one point Nana came over and told me of a song that just kept coming to mind, it was a hymn and I can’t remember exactly what it was. But it was encouraging. God had a hand in bringing her into the OR.

David joined me after what felt like an eternity. I was so scared. Lauren stood behind David and David sat in a chair behind my left arm and shoulder. Nana stood near them. The OR was not that big. After they were settled, Dr. Bootstaylor began to cut me open. I wanted to cry with anxiety and worry. I couldn’t tell when my water broke, I couldn’t really hear what was going on at all. People told me that my water broke. They told me there was a lot of water. I then felt a huge amount of pain near my stomach and I was extremely nauseous. I felt Brielle trying to burrow into my stomach and I just kept feeling more and more sick and in more and more pain. I think David said something about how he saw a hand. I kept trying to look at the light above that was directed towards the operating field for Dr. Bootstaylor. I could see reflections of things and I just kept watching, waiting to see my little girl.

I was so full of hope and worry at the same time. David said he saw both hands come out and then I heard that she was born. Dr. Bootstaylor held Brielle up for me to see. And I knew. I knew that she was dying. I could tell she had very little brain. Brielle was blue, her eyes weren’t moving or blinking, she wasn’t crying, and she wasn’t breathing. I remember I said, “Brielle.” In agonized worry. David cut the cord quickly and Brielle was rushed to my chest. The cord wasn’t milked, she wasn’t pulled out in a breech position because she fought Dr. B, she didn’t want to come out. Things did not go according to plan.

I immediately began to love on Brielle. I kissed her and she twitched. I felt a huge bit of relief because I was afraid she was already dead. I kissed her more, told her I love her, told her how beautiful she is, and sang her “I’ll Love You Forever.” She twitched as much as she could. Blood and fluid came out of her nose and mouth and onto my chest, it was so hard to see. She held on and fought so hard. David recorded it all and I am so thankful, it was so hard to remember exactly what happened. I picked her up at one point and laid her in a better position on my chest, I wrapped her arms around my neck. Kissed her little hands, told her how amazing she was. I didn’t stop, David didn’t stop telling her how loved she was and how special she was. And she loved it, and she did her best to communicate back to us how much she loved what we were saying and how much she loved us too. I asked Lauren if I should try breastfeeding and she said no. That’s when I knew that there was no hope. I am kicking myself now for not praying for a miracle, I was too caught up in the moment and my sweet girl to focus on prayer. I just have to trust that others were praying for me. Dr. Armand came over at one point and basically told me that we didn’t have much time, I was confused by everything he was saying. I couldn’t process and I just wanted to soak up what I had. I asked him how much time and he said within the hour. It broke my heart, but I turned my attention back to Brielle and continued telling Brielle that I loved her. David was rubbing on her back and telling her the same.

Nurses would come and change out towels for warmer ones. Everyone was doing their best to keep her comfortable in her last moments. David later said that everyone in the room looked really upset, they had all been hoping for a better outcome. Nana was humming a hymn to herself and trying to keep herself together.

As Dr. Bootstaylor was closing me up I began to have extreme pain. I tried to keep it from Brielle, but it was agonizing. The man behind me (I don’t remember his name, I later found out he was also a minister) offered me more pain medication, but I refused because it would make me drowsy. The pain kept getting worse, and he kept offering, but I kept refusing, I didn’t want to fall asleep on Brielle. She needed me to be strong. He eventually began to beg me to let him give me medication, at that point I was crying out in pain. I finally agreed, mad at myself that I had let Brielle see me in pain and crying. He gave me medication and I had to constantly fight to stay conscious. I just kept telling Brielle how special she was. I would nod off for a couple of minutes and Lauren or David would wake me up and I’d go back to loving on Brielle. At one point I began apologizing to her and telling her I was doing my best and I was sorry we were in this situation. David later told me that when I would nod off he would comfort and love on Brielle. That made me feel a lot better because I kept beating myself up for letting Brielle down. But when I was weak, David stepped in and loved her for me. It’s not all up to me. Brielle would twitch in response to our words of love and comfort. And when she would twitch I’d say, “Oh there’s my baby! There’s my sweet girl!” I’d get so excited and it would make her excited. She understood, she understood what was going on and that we loved her. And she was fighting for us so that we could know how much she loved us too. I never would have guessed how much that meant to me. At one point Brielle gripped David’s finger as hard as she could. This meant so much to David because it was something he had dreamed of. He’d always wanted his little girl to hold his big finger. She did that for him.

Robin came and checked Brielle’s heartbeat and said she couldn’t hear anything, but that she wasn’t sure it was gone, just very faint. Brielle was in a very awkward position and it made getting her vitals difficult. So David and I tried even harder to love on her and let her know how special she was. She wasn’t twitching anymore and as we told her how special she was David and I saw one tear come out of her left eye. It broke my heart.

Later, Linda came and checked on Brielle and said she didn’t hear a heartbeat. She said that she was just a nurse and Dr. Armand would have to confirm. I didn’t lose it. I think I already knew and that’s why I was okay. I of course wasn’t okay, but I didn’t go into hysterics. When Brielle was on my chest I could feel her heartbeat beating so hard, by the time Linda came over I could no longer feel it and it had been a while since I had. I knew she had been slipping away. By this time she was solid blue, her hands looked like blue chalk.

After this everything became very fuzzy. David said that Linda lifted Brielle off my chest for a moment and wrapped her in towels and then sat her back on my chest. He says I didn’t want her to leave me, which sounds like something I’d say. I was transferred from one bed to another before that. I can’t remember any of this, David is telling me. I just remember holding Brielle.”

Psalm 82:3

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Two years ago this was my devotional for the day. In my status I added that this was what I wanted to do with my life and I wanted my friends and family to hold me accountable. Little did I know that two years later I would have just given birth to the most beautiful little girl ever. Even though no one wants a baby like Brielle, David and I wanted her. We want her more than anything. I know that David and I made a difference in Brielle’s life and she showed us how much she knew and appreciated it after she was born. I am so grateful for the time we’ve had with her. And for welcoming all of you into our lives. You have loved and prayed over our little girl. You all have blessed her more than you will ever know. Thank you for joining us through this and loving Brielle.