I just...knew

I woke up Wednesday morning at 3 am. Divine awakening, I suppose. I was ready. I was done. I was tired. I was as peaceful as I was ever going to be about my little Everett. Cramping soon started, not contractions, just intense cramping. I had cancelled an induction just the day before. We had an appointment that afternoon. I just knew. One way or the other... That day was the day.

Cramping and random back contractions followed me all morning. Our appointment revealed no further progression than 3 weeks ago. We knew were approaching a more risky time for meeting Everett alive. As the amniotic fluid begins to lessen and the placenta gets older, the risk increases. We discussed the stress risks of induction at such an early stage and were "common sense" instructed that there would be no more stress from induction than there would be during delivery. The wonderful midwife walked out and let us talk. I teared up and just told Keith I was tired. I was tired of being scared. I was tired of being anxious. And I was never going to be ready, but I was at complete peace with starting the process that night.

My parents were with us and we went to lunch. We got in touch with the "need to knows". I battled with a text message and Facebook post for nearly 2 hours before anything got successfully sent. We were to return to the hospital at 5, so we just decided to hang out in Sandy Springs. The boys were going to be having "Grandma Wednesday" so it would be no big deal if they didn't see us that night. Nothing out of the ordinary.

For the first time in 20 weeks, I wasn't scared anymore. I was just... Hopeful. I wanted to hold Everett. I wanted to see if we would be the recipients of a healing miracle. I wanted to meet him. To kiss him. To tell him that he was already a miracle. My miracle. Miracles change lives. Blessings change perspectives. I was ready to see my blessed miracle.

We checked in at 5. We walked to our cozy room in the back. I held my Everett bear. Cried for a minute and began to nervously get the room set up. I began to have irregular contractions and continued to feel (physically) awful. The most wonderful nurses took care of us, thanks mostly to the efforts of the HEARTstrings Perinatal Loss team. We didn't have to explain anything to anyone, in fact, most had heard of us and were expecting us anyday.

I was checked a 7 pm and to everyone's surprise, I was progressing. The monitor confirmed irregular contractions. I knew. I was in labor. I woke up knowing, today was the day.

There wasn't really of lot of down time to think or write or text, so I apologize to those expecting texts and messages. We had a steady stream of hospital staff visitors, paperwork, and nurses. Cervidil was inserted for all of like 8 minutes. Figuring it would speed labor, and I already have pretty easy labors, it was removed. Mostly because we wanted the boys and grandparents to meet Everett alive if at all possible, which meant not delivering in the middle of the night. And request number 497 of this pregnancy was born: not in the wee hours of the morning, God.

And every request shy of complete healing was honored. Mother's Day. Gigi finished school. Not Kipton's birthday. Not Grandma's birthday. Natural process. Not in the wee hours. Meet him living. No obvious signs of struggle for Everett. Grandparents and kids meet him alive. Peaceful passing. Peaceful moment for his death. I got to bathe him. Change him. Sing to him. Talk to him. That he meet Jesus in my arms.

I am frankly too tired and in a little too much post partum pain to recant our most beautiful moments. And we had many beautiful moments. May 31, 2012 was the best and worst day of my life. It was the most beautifully painful experience. Nothing unexpected except more time than anticipated.

I don't have the strength for details tonight. But know that it was best day of my pregnancy. The best 3 1/2 hours of the last 20 weeks.

I miss face. His body in my arms. He never made a sound. He couldn't grasp my finger. But he looked at me when I whispered to him. He evened his breathing when Kipton would hug and kiss and touch him, my precious extroverted busybody. He watched me. Heard me. Daddy rocked him. Grandparents held him. Aiden watched him from afar, my little introverted intuitive thinker. Pictures were snapped endlessly.

And suddenly, the crowd was just...gone. Doctors, nurses, chaplains, HEARTstrings, grandparents and the boys-- everyone just cleared out. I got Everett back. And I knew. As certainly as I had Wednesday morning at 3 am. As certainly as the day I met Keith. I just...knew. It was almost over. The joy was about to be sorrow. The NICU nurse with us all day confirmed. I cried as I sang Jesus Loves Me to him. As he silently gulped for air sporadically. We cried. His Daddy assured him it was time to be with Jesus, that we were so thankful he met everyone that loves him most. We told him from the moment we touched him that he didn't need to fight, that Jesus would take care of him. Then.

Then. Less than 15 minuted after his grandparents and brothers left.

Then.

He looked at me one last time. Took a straggling few breaths as the nurse listened to his heart and chest. Then.

At 9:53ish, Everett met Jesus.

There is so much more to write so that I will have raw, real moments forever. But tonight I am tired. And as many of my friends will snuggle their infants tonight, I will cry myself to sleep in this hotel, snuggling only my Everett bear, remembering my Everett. And the joy this day held.