Monday, December 1, 2008

Saying hello...and good-bye

Laying on the operating table, I was unable to wipe the tears away as they poured from my eyes, my arms were securely fastened, crucifix style, to the outstretched shelves of the table, to aid the anesthesiologist in vein access. It didn't matter though, I lay there and listened to my newborn son, his cries were hearty and quivery, just as you might imagine they would be, just as I had hoped, for so many months, two years really, to hear one day. My husband kept saying to me, "He's here honey, he's here..." and I kept repeating, "Is he ok? Is he really ok?"
The nurse held him up so I could see him, really look at him through my tears, so that I could see he was indeed, really here. And really alive.
In the moments before he was born, laying on the table, paralyzed from the chest down, waiting for them to start, I was terrified. My body was shaking, not from the coldness of the room but from the crushing fear that still, something could go wrong. They had taken me off the monitors(the very same monitors that two hours earlier had failed to find his heartbeat when they first hooked me up. The universe, I guess, thought it might be funny to send in a nurse with broken, but brand new, equipment...needless to say I didn't get the joke and my stress level never did recover from that scary start to my delivery)and I could no longer feel anything in my belly. The assisting doctor was late and we all were waiting for her. And so I lay helpless, literally paralyzed and fear filled, thinking even now, my baby could die, please hurry, please get it out. We were delayed because of another baby in distress, not news a db mom needs to hear when waiting to deliver.
And then she came and everything started. Through my rattling teeth I chanted, healthy baby, healthy baby, over and over as I waited, my view obstructed by the blue sheet put between my face and my body. I held my husbands hand as long as I could. Then he stood up to take pictures and the doctor told me 'alot of pressure now' and she meant it, I felt as though an elephant had parked on my chest. I couldn't breathe. My husband told me, "...almost honey, almost, almost..." and then in unison a chorus of nurses and doctors yelled out, "Here it comes and it's a.... boy!" and then in a moment it all changed. I heard his cry. The sweetest sound I have ever heard in all of my life. And in that moment, a year and some months worth of grief spilled out of me, poured out of me really, my body wracked with uncontrollable sobs, my eyes blurred by the tears, my voice a whisper as I sought reassurance after reassurance that he really was ok.
And when the nurse held him up, and I saw his red hair, his long legs, his beautiful chest rising and falling with every cry, every breath, it was then that I saw Caleb. In that instant I held my two sons in my mind, one still and lifeless as I cradled his tiny body in a mortuary and the other filled with life, his daddy standing protectively over him as he is weighed and measured, cutting the cord and marking the moments with pictures.
I thought of these two boys, whose lives are so completely intertwined, and yet they will never know each other, never share a toy or a secret, never conspire to squeeze another hour of playtime before bed, never comfort one another or grow old together, these two boys shared my body, my heart and my love. But only one gets to share a lifetime with me. With us.
For that moment my boys were together. I let my eyes soak in the view of my new son and my memory called forth my lost son. The two were there in the room with me, as close as they ever would be. This new life, my Cason, born out of his brother Caleb's death. And I realized in that taking of a breath Cason changed the way I would see his brother forever. Never again would I be able to wish that Caleb hadn't died because that would mean that I would not have my Cason. I can't play the what if game anymore. Caleb is dead, he is gone from me forever. He didn't die so that Cason could be born, but Cason was born because Caleb died. And the only words that came to me were, "Thank you for him Caleb, I love you Caleb.".
And so it happened, when they lay sweet Cason on my chest and I kissed his tiny, perfect head, I said hello to one son and I said good-bye to the other. I cried tears for both of them, holding tightly to one, and like a child holding a balloon by a string, looking to the sky, beyond the clouds to the vastness of the heavens, wanting to hang on to that string forever but knowing the time had come to let him soar, I slowly opened my fingers and I let my other son go.

23 comments:

Hope's Mama said...

I'm new here but I just wanted to say your story took my breath away. I was right there with you, it was so vivid. Congratulations on the safe arrival of Cason. I can only hope for the same sort of "happy ending" for me sometime in the future.
Sally xo

janis said...

Oh, K@lakly... ((hugs))
This made me cry like crazy.
What a moving tribute... to them both. Big love to you and your family. xoxo

CLC said...

Nothing like starting my morning with a good cry!!

What a beautiful description of your feelings about both of your sons. I think of you all the time and am so glad you are home with a healthy baby Cason in your arms!

Sophie said...

Yep, I'm crying too. That is so beautiful. I am so happy for you that Cason is here and well and that you felt so close to your Caleb during Cason's birth. Amazing post.

Wishing you all the best.

Tash said...

Lovely. Your arms and heart sound full. In a good way.

c. said...

Beautiful, K. Stunning, moving post. Big hugs to you and your boys. XO.

Cara said...

Crying in public right now and happy to do it. This such a gorgeous post, a tribute and a legacy to both your boys.

xoxo

Julia said...

Breathtaking story, truly. You sound more at peace, and for that I am glad.

I know the feeling of beholding both sons. In the delivery room there was a flicker of it, but then there was the NICU dash, so not so much. I have had these moments since, even this past weekend.

A wasn't supposed to be our last, and there was supposed to be a very small difference between him and the third baby (although maybe not quite as small as it turned out to be), so I can't really say that the Cub is here because A died. I miss him, all the time, but I don't really spend time wishing things were different. I don't remember ever doing that (wishing that the past wasn't the way it was), though, so it's not really a change, I guess.

Aunt Becky said...

*sobs*

*sobs*

Welcome to the world Baby Cason. Your (internet) Aunt Becky is gonna spoil you silly.

Ya Chun said...

Your emotional dichotomy is conveyed so poignantly, the emotions are overwhelming.

Cindy said...

Beautiful. Thank you.

Ange said...

Damm you I had eye make up on to go out for the morning. Now I'm ruined. What a beautiful loving description of this live changing day. So thrilled that your sweet boy is home with you.

a- said...

I felt chills reading this. I've (and uh..you too)been waiting for this moment for forever it seems. Good job K. (Exhaling now) Welcome Cason!

reganPDX said...

I have been reading your blog for a few weeks and I am crying. What a beautiful, moving post. You are so strong. Congratulations on your sweet boy. --Regan

Sue said...

I have the chills. That was beautiful.

Michele said...

I'm crying right now. Many prayers for a long lifetime together, full of love and beauty.

Reba said...

What an absolutely beautiful, heart-wrenching birth story.

Welcome to the world, baby Cason.

charmedgirl said...

just what i thought.

Steph said...

oy. I am just stopping by, and thank god no one is up yet, because I am a *MESS* at the computer. A half-box kleenex mountain beside me. This is a tremendous post. Completely overwhelming. I am beyond thrilled for you kalaky. I am crying tears of joy for you, and hope for me, but I know that until my own arms are strapped down and I hear the cries, as you did, I too will be hurrying them to 'get it out'.. God I'm just so happy. You deserve this, and I congratulate your family whole-heartedly.

Kathy said...

Wow K@lakly! What an incredible post... I am sitting here bawling, in a good way. You are such an inspiration. I am in awe of how you shared your birth story and how beautifully you tied together your journey with your two sons. I love your take on how without Caleb, there would be no Cason. I am impressed with how that has helped you to make peace on some level with losing Caleb.

I hadn't thought about if someday we are blessed to have another living child that the child(ren) couldn't be here with our their big sister Molly paving the way. I really appreciate that way of thinking about her role in our lives.

Anyway, I am so happy for you and your sweet family. Thank you so much for sharing. (((HUGS)))

Shannon Ryan said...

Wow, to read exactly what I imagined giving birth to the next baby would be like is so amazing! Thank you for writing your story.. reading your blog has helped. Enjoy that sweet baby! :)

Coggy said...

This bought tears to my eyes. What a perfect and beautifully written post. This is my dream still. To get there to that point. To finally know what it feels like to hold my baby.
Reading your post took me about as far into imagining my own reality as I dare for now.
Thank you for sharing Kal x x

Rosalind said...

sorry for my late post... This was so beautiful ... Congrats and a big hugs to you and your sweet little boys