Today is November 14, 2011. I start with this because it is the birth, and death, date of my third child. Rufus Hamons Jenkins III was due November 18, 2002 via planned C-Section. Thursday, November 14, was my last appointment before the C-Section.
As a family, we were very excited. DD was 10, and DOS had turned 9 the previous week. The pregnancy had gone incredibly well. There were no issues, and it was considered a low-risk pregnancy. So, I went to work and at 11:00 was in the exam room for our typical appointment. So, when the Ob-Gyn couldn't find the heartbeat at first, I was not alarmed. We figured it was the device as it was an older one. When she couldn't find baby's heartbeat with a different device, I started sweating. When they brought the ultrasound machine into the room, I knew something was very, very wrong. I called DH. His work was only a block away, and he could hear in my voice this was an emergency. He literally ran out of the office over to the doctor. The ultrasound proved devastating. Our sweet, lovely baby's heart, instead of rapidly beating, was still. "Check it again." I said. And still, no heartbeat.
Our world fell apart then and there. The office staff was hushed, and we were ushered into the scheduling room so they could schedule a C-Section ASAP. I couldn't fathom that this little being I'd been carrying for 9 months could actually have died. When we left the office, only DH and I, the doctor, and a couple office staff were present. The atmosphere was somber.
We went over to the school and took DD and DOS out. And we walked them over to the church. And it was there that we told them Baby Rufus would not be coming home with us. The sorrow in their little faces was indescribable. And the fear, when they looked at me, was worse. For I knew they were wondering if mommy was going away too. DOS cried, but DD was stoic. And to be honest, that scared me more than anything. I look back on that day and the weeks that followed, and I believe she was trying to be strong for me. But at such a young age! It was her for whom I hurt the most. She was so excited about being a big sister. She had helped plan the baby shower, and her participation in that and her gifts for her brother touched me more than almost anything else in the world. And I could see in her eyes, the depth of the loss she felt, and there was nothing I could do to take it away or make it better.
The rest of the afternoon blurred. Some things I remember clearly. Others not so much. A family friend came and took the children. She was their surrogate mom until my parents and sister came into town. And it was her, we knew, who would try to keep their days as normal as possible.
At the hospital we were ushered into a delivery room. I filled out the paperwork, and we just sat there. Waiting. I later found out the maternity ward had scheduled this C-Section to be the last for the day. Since this was the same hospital DH worked at, many of his coworkers, nurses and staff alike, came by to offer their condolences. DH's siblings came by, but I asked him to keep them from coming in. It was hard enough maintaining my composure. I just wanted to be alone. I didn't want to share this pain.
Then the phone rang. Earlier in the day I'd left a message on my Sunday School teacher's home phone to say briefly what had happened. It just so happened one of the ladies in my class had connections and found out what hospital we were in. So, Dawn called. She knew I didn't want to talk, but her phone call was cathartic. It roused me out of the shock I was in. And her call reminded me that though this was happening to me and my family, we were not alone in our sorrow.
A short time later we met with the anesthesiologist, doctor and nurses, and then DH and I were in the OR. Not long after that Baby Rufus was born. The room was silent. So, so silent.
As with all our children, DH went with baby to bathe and clothe him. And once I was in the recovery room, he and Baby Rufus came to visit. The nurses, staff, everyone, they were so considerate. We were the only ones in the recovery room, and they were so - reverential. The loss of a baby really does affect all souls.
We took photos, and then we went to a private room. It was in the maternity ward where the staff are best equipped to meet the needs of post-partum mothers. I didn't know until we checked out that we were in the room farthest from the nursery and there was a sign on our door to indicate the loss of a baby. DH and I spent the night with Baby Rufus. This is typical. And I am very thankful we had that night. It was my time to bond with my baby before letting him go. I talked to Baby Rufus while DH slept, and when dawn broke, I accepted what was and what had to be.
We had a graveside memorial service for Baby Rufus. DD and DOS selected special items to include in his casket, and we each added our mementos at the graveside. This was DD and DOS only time to visit their little brother. As hard as it was for mom and dad, we felt it would be exponentially more difficult for our children. We were amazed at the number of people; family, church members, coworkers, friends, school teachers and classmates, who came to the service. And I remember almost all of who was there.
I don't pretend to remember much of that week or many weeks following, but there were moments, events, significant times in which everything is still crystal clear. And I am thankful for those memories. They are special to me, and they are a gift to me. One of the the things I remember most during this time is that I learned the meaning of "Grace." I can't really put into words the definition of grace, but I do know what it is and from where it comes. And I know grace is a gift from God. A gift for which I am eternally grateful.
Happy Birthday Baby Rufus, my angel baby.
2 comments:
Julie,
Your story is an inspiration to all. Your faith in God has brought you through and made you strong. The one thing that I was so in awe about at that time was your unwavering faith. It was that which brought you through. I am proud to be your friend. You are a truly amazing woman, mother and friend. Never doubt youself for a minute! I love you! - Kim
I lost a son in much the same way. He was my first-born son, though I was the full-time mother of three adolescent children from my husband's first marriage. I started having labor pains, and things seemed to be normal. Then, as we were about to leave for the hospital (which was 40 minutes away), I felt something change. I insisted we rush to the clinic in town, where our family doctor couldn't find a heartbeat. He had me lay on my left side and they took me to the Vail Hospital, where the OB Gyn told us that "something had gone terribly wrong." Like you, I don't remember much except the date, January 10, 1985, the doctor's exact words and how it felt when I heard a newborn cry in the hall. I remember the service and the town support. I remember it took me three weeks to leave the house, and then it was by force. My husband made me go with him to the grocery store. I remember my mother telling me later that she couldn't believe it when I had our youngest daughter climb up on the bed in the hospital room so I could help her with her English homework.And I remember our oldest daughter crying in the hallway at home saying, "It's all my fault." When I asked her what she was talking about she said, "I willed it to happen. I was afraid if you had a baby of your own you wouldn't love us anymore." Of course I told her that she wasn't to blame. That only God can make these decisions and we don't know why, we just have to trust he has a plan. And now, over 30 years later, there isn't a young man who would be about Walter's age that doesn't make me wonder what my son would have been like had he lived.
I have since had three daughters of my own, making our child count six. And there are times I look at my younger girls and think, if Walter had lived I may never have had these three beautiful daughters. As it is, Walter has served as our family's guardian angel. He watches over our family, and he will always live in our hearts.
Thank you for sharing your story. I came upon your blog after Googling for the Chinese proverb about saving a life, and I'm glad I clicked through.
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