Asher's birth was constantly on my mind those last weeks. I listened to a hypnobirthing CD as I drifted off to sleep, I wrote a page full of positive birth affirmations, I wrote him letters expressing my anticipation of his arrival. I had a few nights full of contractions that then faded away. I tried to be patient. I was grateful that I wasn't incredibly uncomfortable, that I felt ready but not DONE.
On the morning of August 16th I was excited to feel an increased intensity and pattern to my contractions. I loved the idea of having Asher on 8/16/16. It seemed like a perfect birth date for the 8th child in a family. I texted my midwife that I was having contractions 3-4 minutes apart, lasting about a minute each. She told me to keep her in the loop. By mid afternoon things had died down a bit, but Rebecca texted me and told me if I wanted to come to her office we could see if I was a progressing and maybe help move things along. We drove up right away.
We got there at about 4 and I was dilated to 4-5. The baby was in the perfect position, but my bulging sack of water was preventing his head from fully engaging. She swept my membranes and had me drink some kind of ginger tonic that she said would help stimulate contractions for a while, then it would be up to my body to keep them going. She advised us to head strait home and predicted that we had a 95% chance of having a baby on the 16th. woo hoo!
On the ride home, my contractions were more intense for sure, and I was excited. I was dancing along with the radio a bit, pausing now and then to breath through a contraction and give kevin the "this is the real deal" look. Once home, the contractions continued. Kevin ordered pizza, I called my brother Brian to see if he could come up after work to be with our kids downstairs.
I had texted my dear friend, Amy, earlier in the day informing her of my progress. Aside from being a close friend and fellow home-birther, Amy is our trusted photographer and I was so excited when she had texted me about a week before offering to come be there for Asher's birth. As my contractions intensified, I texted both Amy and Rebecca who both said they'd head our way. They both arrived at around 7pm. I also called my sister in law, Nicole, who I had invited to the birth. She was needed by her family at the moment, but said she'd come when she could. Rebecca was regularly checking my blood pressure and Asher's heart rate. All was normal.
We just sort of hung out for a while, but my contractions continued. The kids ate pizza. I had a slice, but my mind wasn't on food. I sent Kevin to pick up my prescription pain medication for the after pains so I'd have them ready. My after pains are really intense and although I don't mind natural labor and birth, I hate being in severe pain after. While he was gone Amy rubbed my feet and we took some pictures. I decided to get my kids dressed in somewhat coordinating clothes/jammies so we could be ready for pictures of them meeting their new brother. Rebecca checked me at I was at a 7. She said my sack was very thick and offered to break my water whenever I was ready. Once Brian arrived, I got the kids settled watching a movie downstairs. Kevin got home with the meds. I still felt really good for being in labor.
Once everything seemed in place, we went to my room and Rebecca broke my water. I knew that my labor would quickly get more intense after that. Adam had been born about 25 minutes after my water broke, Jane had been about the same, and Caleb took about 40 minutes. As predicted, my labor really intensified once she broke my water. I decided to get in the birth tub right away and almost immediately had to have Kevin push on my back as I knelt and leaned against the edge of the tub. I had a few more contractions, seemingly right on top of each other. My mind felt a little panicky and internally I told myself that I needed to get into a better head space, I know how to do this, I can trust my body. I decided I wanted to stand up for the next contraction and have Kevin support me from behind.
That is the last thing I remember.
That is the last thing I remember.
I passed out and the rest of my memories of his birth are very, very dim. Amy and Kevin helped remove me from the tub on to the floor of my room. Then I had a seizure. My body stiffened and I started foaming at the mouth a bit. I wasn't responding. The next thing I remember was hearing myself moaning, but thinking to myself "what is my deal, that's not what I do when I'm in labor" then darkness, then hearing Rebecca say "Natalie, you NEED to push your baby out, he needs to come out now!" and I remember pushing with all I had, but having no awareness of where I was or what was going on or even any pain. Then I remember touching my baby and saying "be okay, please be okay..." but not really seeing him or having a grasp of what was happening. I heard Kevin say he was going to call 911.
Asher's heart rate had gone down after my seizure. He needed to be born quickly. He had turned and was posterior. Rebecca told Kevin that if the baby wasn't born in the next 2 contractions, we would have to go to the hospital. It took a few different positions and Rebecca helping to ease him out, but he was born quickly. His heart was beating, but he wasn't breathing. After attempts to get him breathing, 911 was called. We live close to the hospital, and they responded quickly, but were unable to revive him. He and Kevin were rushed to the hospital. They attempted to intubate Asher, but the first tube they used was too small. By the time they got the right size tube, his airway had swollen so it took them several attempts. All told, he was without oxygen for about 40 minutes. Life flight was ready to take him to primary children's hospital, but specialists there and doctors at American Fork hospital gave a very grim prognosis. A choice had to be made.
Meanwhile, at home, I hadn't delivered the placenta when the EMTs arrived. Some remained behind after Asher had been rushed off, but left soon after, though it's not clear why. I don't remember much about delivering the placenta, but after that I started to regain some more awareness. I was moved to my bed, but began bleeding a lot. Like, if I moved I could feel blood sloshing out. Rebecca gave me some things (pitocin, cytotec, something else) to help with the hemorrhaging, but it was clear to Amy and my neighbor, Marylin (who had just recently arrived after seeing the lights from the ambulance) that I was not doing well. I was still on the fringes of consciousness, like I was an observer but not a participant. Marylin told me later she recognized all of the symptoms of shock in me, and knew how serious that can be. Amy and Marylin consulted each other and decided to call Kevin and have him send the EMTs back to get me. I'm grateful for the things Rebecca gave me before they arrived, and I'm grateful for the friends who got me to the hospital safely. Looking back, I think both of those things worked together to help save my life.
I remember as I rode in the ambulance that I prayed for myself, for my life. Why Asher was not the subject of my prayers, I don't know. But I prayed that I would be okay, that I would be able to stay here with Kevin and my children. I felt lots of blood leaving my body on that short trip. When we arrived at the hospital, Kevin was standing there waiting. The look on his face was awful. I looked to him, confused, and he said Asher wasn't going to make it. He told me of life flight, and the opinions of the specialists. Meanwhile, the hospital staff checked my blood levels and somehow they came back normal (they definitely weren't). I think I was given an IV at that point, and some more pitocin to help with the bleeding. The focus was on Asher, and what to do. It all seemed to take forever. It's hard to think about all of this, and I've had to write in pieces because it's overwhelming to write it out and relive it. There were so many people there in that moment. Doctors, life flight people, nurses, Rebecca, Amy, Nicole, Kevin's dad, Brian. And Kevin and I needed to make the call. Do we life flight him or not. He was stabilized and on machines at that point, so there wasn't a huge sense of urgency. But still, it all seemed to take so long.
Amy asked that Asher be moved in by me. I feel like I was seeing him for the first time. He was beautiful, and his body was so pink and strong looking. How? How could this big, strong baby not be okay?
The pediatrician there said there was a less then 1% chance of him surviving with any real brain function and that if it were his son, he wouldn't life flight him. Kevin and I each got a priesthood blessing from his dad. Mine was all about peace and moving on and healing and being there for my children. But as he said the words, I felt a real clarity that life flight was the right choice. I wasn't there for Kevin's, but when he came back in, I got to hold Asher for a minute and again I felt like we had to give it a chance. I expressed that to Kevin and he agreed. So, away they went together in the helicopter.
I was taken to a room then, and my after pains were excruciating. Amy, Nicole, and Brian were there. Danny and Nicole had taken all of my kids to their house to sleep, so after a while Nicole went to be there so Danny wouldn't be alone with 13 kids all night. My bleeding was still bad. They checked my blood levels again and they were almost half what they had originally thought, so blood transfusions were ordered. A doctor came in and explained that I had had eclampsia and HELLP syndrome. I was put on magnesium because of the seizure, and also put on a clear liquid diet, just in case I seized again. I still don't know if that was the right call. Maybe I'll write more about that later. Maybe not.
It was the hardest night of my life so far. Brian pushed on my knees as Amy pushed on my lower back to help ease the after pains. It took a long time to get medication, and when I got it, I threw up. In that moment, I felt I couldn't bear it. I felt scared, in intense pain, heartbroken, alone (without Kevin), and now I was throwing up. It felt like rock bottom. But I felt a kinship with my Savior that I had never before felt. I thought of Him in Gethsemane, feeling all of this and so much more so that he could know just how I felt in that most crushing moment.
Fortunately, I'd only had half the allowed dose, so I got the other half and prayed it would stay down. Brian went home at my request and brought back a heating pad to help with the cramps, plus a phone charger and some clothes. After a while, that pain was manageable. I sent Brian home at around 2 or 3, knowing he had work the next day. Amy stayed with me and I don't think either of us slept at all. The magnesium made me miserable, and my heart was so so sad. Amy put a cool cloth on my head and held two cool cloths on my feet. The magnesium made me feel hot, but I also needed the heating pad to help with the pain, so this was incredibly comforting. I don't know how much sense I made, but she talked with me all night. She was an angel and walked with me through my darkest night.
Doctors, nurses, and family members told me I had been in bad shape and that I might not have survived. I never saw a bright light or a beckoning being, but I felt barely conscious, even after Asher was life flighted. Friends and family members have since told me how scary it was to see me. It seemed to take the doctor/hospital staff forever to take my condition seriously. My blood transfusions didn't come until 4 in the morning, 6 hours after I arrived at the hospital. I was told several times that because I hadn't been at the hospital for the birth, they (the group of OBs on call at the hospital during my stay) couldn't really know what happened, and it seemed they weren't anxious to figure it out. They were dismissive to Rebecca when she was showing them my charts and didn't seem to ask for additional information. I felt that they never listened to me or tried to help me find answers. I've never had a problem with doctors or hospitals and my decision to do a home birth was based more on the fact that my babies come quickly and I like the peace of it. I have definitely received more personalized care from midwives than doctors, but I've always maintained a respect for doctors, their skill, and their knowledge. I was, however, very disappointed in this case. I feel they let their bias toward midwives and home births effect the way I was treated and cared for during this incredibly traumatic time. I was about as broken as a person can be, and it's painful still, months later, to think of how I was treated and the things that were said.
My hospital stay in general was rough. I have never felt so weak in my entire life. I wasn't allowed anything but clear liquids and the magnesium combined with my already low blood pressure left me unable to sit up without feeling incredibly light headed, and completely depleted of energy or strength. I could barely hold my phone and even forming coherent sentences was a struggle. My brain wouldn't turn off, though, and I didn't feel groggy mentally. I was super tired, but between the many interruptions and the weird side effects from the magnesium (feeling super hot, then cold, throwing up, etc) I hardly slept.
My mom came. I'd called her on my way home from my appointment with Rebecca and told her chances were good that Asher was coming that night. I have had false alarms before, though, so I told her I'd let her know if/when my water broke. After hanging up, she felt she should just come right away. After checking airline tickets and finding that none would get here there before late afternoon the following day, she hopped in the car with Peter and started driving. She was in Missoula, Montana when she got the call from Kevin about Asher. She was able to meet Kevin at Primary Children's early in the morning, then come down to see me, then go be with my kids. What a blessing.
I had very little hope for Asher's survival. Even when I made the decision about the life flight, I knew it was the right choice, but I didn't expect him to live. There was a sliver of hope for a great outcome, but just a tiny one. I did see miracles, though, and never second guessed that it was meant to play out the way it did. Because of that choice, Kevin was able to be with his tiny boy almost constantly for his short life. He was able to spend priceless hours with him in the NICU at primary children's and both he and Asher were tenderly cared for.
Meanwhile, back at the hospital...I pleaded with my nurses to take me off the magnesium. I felt it was doing more harm than good and the doctor who prescribed it had said 12-24 hours depending on how I was doing. Well, no doctor came after 12 hours, so the nurses relayed my request and were permitted to lower the magnesium dose slightly. This didn't help at all. And still no food. I wanted to leave. I wanted to hold my son while he was still alive. Every hour seemed so long and I felt so weak and helpless. Finally, an angel came. Nurse Kay was the charge nurse but had taken on a regular shift my second night in the hospital. She listened to me. She was my advocate. She got me off the magnesium and off diet restrictions. Kevin came with a plate of spaghetti. I could barely hold the fork. I ate half the meat from the sauce and couldn't eat more. News of Asher was as I thought, no activity on his brain scans. We needed to decide when to take him off life support.
Kevin didn't stay long. He was anxious to get back to Asher and I wanted him to be there with our sweet baby. Mikelle had driven up and stayed with me that night. We wept together. Late in the night, Mikelle was sleeping on the couch and Nurse Kay came in to check on me. She asked how I was doing and I broke down. She sat on the side of my bed and held me like a grandma. She listened as I explained why I'd chosen a home birth and the peace I'd felt about that choice. I knew there was judgement from the hospital staff, I assumed there would be judgement from acquaintances and even close friends and family. It all felt heavy on top of everything else. She said all the right things and helped to dissipate the mounting sense of regret and guilt I was feeling. She was kind and understanding and I felt no condescension or condemnation. She was such a blessing.
With her help, I was able to leave the following evening after 2 days spent in the hospital. It was Thursday night, and I slept well in my own bed. My children were so comforting and just being around them brought so much comfort.
I was still very weak, but the following morning (Friday, the 19th), I was able to go up and hold Asher. I worried it would be horrible to see him, knowing he would be gone in a matter of days. I prayed that I could endure the day and be granted the strength I needed, both physically and emotionally. I was. I asked Amy and my mom to join us. It felt good to be out of the hospital and back with the people I loved. Kevin wheeled me up to his room. Oh, my heart. He was so beautiful and the love I felt for him was indescribable. There was a sweet and powerful spirit about him.
It was so very heartbreaking at first. Seeing him and touching him and longing for things to be different. Oh, that they could have been different. All of my hopes and plans for this dear boy, my heart just ached that it could never be so. I wanted him, I wanted to keep him, with all my heart I wanted him to stay and be mine. I wanted to take him home to his siblings who had prayed for him daily throughout my pregnancy. He would be so loved and adored by all of us. But now we had only a few days before we would have to say goodbye. I felt like I could never make these moments be enough. I breathed in his smell and kissed his fuzzy head. I ran my fingers across his soft skin and held his tiny hand. I whispered my love to him and sobbed. I still sob when I think of it.
Holding him, though, felt sacred and joyful. I'd feel a wave of grief here and there, but a general sense of peace overpowered the sadness. This perfect little body and the celestial soul linked to it filled my heart to the brim. He was mine. Too short here on this earth, but eternally linked to me forever, and being with him, especially holding him, felt like stepping a foot into heaven. I felt a sense of who he was and felt humbled that I was able to be his mama.
Kayla, a kind soul who worked at Primary Children's as part of a music therapy program, came and spoke with us about Asher and our feelings for him.
Within a few days, she had written a song in his honor and sang it at both his blessing and funeral. It wasn't something I would have thought of, but I'm grateful we accepted when it was offered. It was a beautiful tribute and memorial of his short life and the impact it had on those of us who love him.
Because I was still so weak, I couldn't stay as long as I would have liked. I'm so grateful for that day, though. The hospital staff couldn't have been more caring, Amy perfectly captured all the things I would want to remember, and I was so grateful that I got to share the experience with my mom, who has always come to help when I've had a baby. It just seems right that she was there with us.
This post has been long, and a long time in the making. It's now been almost 14 months since Asher was born. I've shed a lot of tears as I've recalled the feelings associated with each aspect of his birth and short life. It seems exhausting to now write of his blessing, death, and funeral, but I don't want to drag this out for another year...
The following day, Saturday the 20th, we invited our families to come so they could meet Asher and join with us in giving him a Blessing. This day was full of mixed emotions. I was happy to have so many people I loved gathered together in love for their tiny brother, nephew, grandson, and cousin. It was powerful to see the support we have on this earth in the form of such amazing people. On the other hand, it was hard to share our tiny window of time with anyone. There wasn't enough to share. But everyone who came added to the significance of the day, the impact of his little life, and in the end I thought it was perfect.
My children got to come in and hold him first. I wanted pictures of each of them with him. I don't know how they will each one day view this experience, this hello and goodbye, this disappointing conclusion to their months of anticipation. It was sweet and hard. I felt I was able to put my grief aside for the most part and help them to navigate this complicated experience. Some were happily oblivious, others were deeply sad. Jack seemed to take it the hardest, and I appreciated his reaction as it mirrored so much of what I was feeling.
After this, we invited everyone into the room and our Bishop presided over his blessing. Kayla sang his song, Kevin bore a powerful testimony of the reality of our Savior. I was able to hold Asher as the men laid their hands on his head and and Kevin gave him a name and a blessing. It's been a long time now, and I don't remember all the words he spoke, but there was a powerful spirit in the room. I again felt honored to be Asher's mom. I invited whoever would like to, to take a minute to hold Asher and many did.
Now it's been over 2 years, and I'm here again attempting to finish this post.
As planned, my mom took the kids home, and everyone said their goodbyes. It was just Kevin and me there, with Amy graciously documenting these last moments of Asher's life. By this point, I was physically exhausted, mostly due to the effects of the blood loss. My milk had come in and that added another level of discomfort. Still, I cherished this intimate time with our tiny little son and again felt an overwhelming sense of love and gratitude for him. When we were ready, they gently removed Asher's breathing tube and gave him pain medication to keep him comfortable. We were unsure of how Asher's body would respond and were told sometimes people in Asher's situation will breath on their own for just a few minutes while others will breath for days before they pass away.
After getting a few pictures of Asher without the tube in, Amy left the room and it was just Kevin, Asher and me. It was so very tender. He breathed in gentle gasps every 7 seconds or so. We took turns holding him and cherishing every breath. The nurses would come in here and there to check him and administer more pain medication. All told, he breathed on his own for about an hour and we feel so blessed to have had that time with him. Toward the end, I layed on the bed with him nestled right in with me, just as I had imagined doing so often before he was born. It's one of my favorite things about new babies, that snuggling together when they're finally outside of your body. It's a thought that gets me through the final weeks of pregnancy, the reward I envision in the midst of labor. I let myself relax and just breath him in and it was like heaven. Then, after about 5 minutes, he breathed out the sweetest sigh, the kind that babies make after they've been crying and have been soothed. I've always loved that kind of sigh because it seems to indicate that everything is okay again, you've made everything better and that they're ready to move on with things. This was the last sound Asher made and I knew instantly that he was gone. It felt like such a tender mercy.
There is nothing to describe the feeling of leaving the hospital without your baby. My physical capabilities were maxed out by this point and although the time we had with our Asher was beautiful and sacred, it was as emotionally exhausting as you might imagine it would be to say goodbye to your child. We laid him in his hospital bed and with tears pouring down my cheeks, Kevin wheelchaired me from the room. The staff at Primary Children's were amazing. As we left, a nurse with deep love and sympathy offered one last bit of advice. She encouraged us to be kind to each other as we each grieved and processed this loss in our own way. She urged us to be patient with each other and do our best to not take our emotions out on each other. Although at that moment we felt incredibly close to each other, I look back on this advice and see the wisdom in it because grief is a rough road. Kevin was then and always so tender and patient and kind to me. We felt incredible peace as we drove home that evening. Neighbors had brought over a huge bowl of watermelon and I'm sure I ate more than half of it.
Now, over 6 years since his birth, it's time to finish. The details have faded, so this will be brief. The following days were a blur. My incredible sister in law Nicole and Amy made all of the funeral arrangements. Kevin and I were able to go and dress his tiny, beautiful body in a sweet white outfit, complete with a hat and slippers made by an angel of a friend. It was tender and sacred to do so.
Meanwhile, at home, I hadn't delivered the placenta when the EMTs arrived. Some remained behind after Asher had been rushed off, but left soon after, though it's not clear why. I don't remember much about delivering the placenta, but after that I started to regain some more awareness. I was moved to my bed, but began bleeding a lot. Like, if I moved I could feel blood sloshing out. Rebecca gave me some things (pitocin, cytotec, something else) to help with the hemorrhaging, but it was clear to Amy and my neighbor, Marylin (who had just recently arrived after seeing the lights from the ambulance) that I was not doing well. I was still on the fringes of consciousness, like I was an observer but not a participant. Marylin told me later she recognized all of the symptoms of shock in me, and knew how serious that can be. Amy and Marylin consulted each other and decided to call Kevin and have him send the EMTs back to get me. I'm grateful for the things Rebecca gave me before they arrived, and I'm grateful for the friends who got me to the hospital safely. Looking back, I think both of those things worked together to help save my life.
I remember as I rode in the ambulance that I prayed for myself, for my life. Why Asher was not the subject of my prayers, I don't know. But I prayed that I would be okay, that I would be able to stay here with Kevin and my children. I felt lots of blood leaving my body on that short trip. When we arrived at the hospital, Kevin was standing there waiting. The look on his face was awful. I looked to him, confused, and he said Asher wasn't going to make it. He told me of life flight, and the opinions of the specialists. Meanwhile, the hospital staff checked my blood levels and somehow they came back normal (they definitely weren't). I think I was given an IV at that point, and some more pitocin to help with the bleeding. The focus was on Asher, and what to do. It all seemed to take forever. It's hard to think about all of this, and I've had to write in pieces because it's overwhelming to write it out and relive it. There were so many people there in that moment. Doctors, life flight people, nurses, Rebecca, Amy, Nicole, Kevin's dad, Brian. And Kevin and I needed to make the call. Do we life flight him or not. He was stabilized and on machines at that point, so there wasn't a huge sense of urgency. But still, it all seemed to take so long.
Amy asked that Asher be moved in by me. I feel like I was seeing him for the first time. He was beautiful, and his body was so pink and strong looking. How? How could this big, strong baby not be okay?
I was taken to a room then, and my after pains were excruciating. Amy, Nicole, and Brian were there. Danny and Nicole had taken all of my kids to their house to sleep, so after a while Nicole went to be there so Danny wouldn't be alone with 13 kids all night. My bleeding was still bad. They checked my blood levels again and they were almost half what they had originally thought, so blood transfusions were ordered. A doctor came in and explained that I had had eclampsia and HELLP syndrome. I was put on magnesium because of the seizure, and also put on a clear liquid diet, just in case I seized again. I still don't know if that was the right call. Maybe I'll write more about that later. Maybe not.
It was the hardest night of my life so far. Brian pushed on my knees as Amy pushed on my lower back to help ease the after pains. It took a long time to get medication, and when I got it, I threw up. In that moment, I felt I couldn't bear it. I felt scared, in intense pain, heartbroken, alone (without Kevin), and now I was throwing up. It felt like rock bottom. But I felt a kinship with my Savior that I had never before felt. I thought of Him in Gethsemane, feeling all of this and so much more so that he could know just how I felt in that most crushing moment.
Fortunately, I'd only had half the allowed dose, so I got the other half and prayed it would stay down. Brian went home at my request and brought back a heating pad to help with the cramps, plus a phone charger and some clothes. After a while, that pain was manageable. I sent Brian home at around 2 or 3, knowing he had work the next day. Amy stayed with me and I don't think either of us slept at all. The magnesium made me miserable, and my heart was so so sad. Amy put a cool cloth on my head and held two cool cloths on my feet. The magnesium made me feel hot, but I also needed the heating pad to help with the pain, so this was incredibly comforting. I don't know how much sense I made, but she talked with me all night. She was an angel and walked with me through my darkest night.
Doctors, nurses, and family members told me I had been in bad shape and that I might not have survived. I never saw a bright light or a beckoning being, but I felt barely conscious, even after Asher was life flighted. Friends and family members have since told me how scary it was to see me. It seemed to take the doctor/hospital staff forever to take my condition seriously. My blood transfusions didn't come until 4 in the morning, 6 hours after I arrived at the hospital. I was told several times that because I hadn't been at the hospital for the birth, they (the group of OBs on call at the hospital during my stay) couldn't really know what happened, and it seemed they weren't anxious to figure it out. They were dismissive to Rebecca when she was showing them my charts and didn't seem to ask for additional information. I felt that they never listened to me or tried to help me find answers. I've never had a problem with doctors or hospitals and my decision to do a home birth was based more on the fact that my babies come quickly and I like the peace of it. I have definitely received more personalized care from midwives than doctors, but I've always maintained a respect for doctors, their skill, and their knowledge. I was, however, very disappointed in this case. I feel they let their bias toward midwives and home births effect the way I was treated and cared for during this incredibly traumatic time. I was about as broken as a person can be, and it's painful still, months later, to think of how I was treated and the things that were said.
My hospital stay in general was rough. I have never felt so weak in my entire life. I wasn't allowed anything but clear liquids and the magnesium combined with my already low blood pressure left me unable to sit up without feeling incredibly light headed, and completely depleted of energy or strength. I could barely hold my phone and even forming coherent sentences was a struggle. My brain wouldn't turn off, though, and I didn't feel groggy mentally. I was super tired, but between the many interruptions and the weird side effects from the magnesium (feeling super hot, then cold, throwing up, etc) I hardly slept.
My mom came. I'd called her on my way home from my appointment with Rebecca and told her chances were good that Asher was coming that night. I have had false alarms before, though, so I told her I'd let her know if/when my water broke. After hanging up, she felt she should just come right away. After checking airline tickets and finding that none would get here there before late afternoon the following day, she hopped in the car with Peter and started driving. She was in Missoula, Montana when she got the call from Kevin about Asher. She was able to meet Kevin at Primary Children's early in the morning, then come down to see me, then go be with my kids. What a blessing.
I had very little hope for Asher's survival. Even when I made the decision about the life flight, I knew it was the right choice, but I didn't expect him to live. There was a sliver of hope for a great outcome, but just a tiny one. I did see miracles, though, and never second guessed that it was meant to play out the way it did. Because of that choice, Kevin was able to be with his tiny boy almost constantly for his short life. He was able to spend priceless hours with him in the NICU at primary children's and both he and Asher were tenderly cared for.
Meanwhile, back at the hospital...I pleaded with my nurses to take me off the magnesium. I felt it was doing more harm than good and the doctor who prescribed it had said 12-24 hours depending on how I was doing. Well, no doctor came after 12 hours, so the nurses relayed my request and were permitted to lower the magnesium dose slightly. This didn't help at all. And still no food. I wanted to leave. I wanted to hold my son while he was still alive. Every hour seemed so long and I felt so weak and helpless. Finally, an angel came. Nurse Kay was the charge nurse but had taken on a regular shift my second night in the hospital. She listened to me. She was my advocate. She got me off the magnesium and off diet restrictions. Kevin came with a plate of spaghetti. I could barely hold the fork. I ate half the meat from the sauce and couldn't eat more. News of Asher was as I thought, no activity on his brain scans. We needed to decide when to take him off life support.
Kevin didn't stay long. He was anxious to get back to Asher and I wanted him to be there with our sweet baby. Mikelle had driven up and stayed with me that night. We wept together. Late in the night, Mikelle was sleeping on the couch and Nurse Kay came in to check on me. She asked how I was doing and I broke down. She sat on the side of my bed and held me like a grandma. She listened as I explained why I'd chosen a home birth and the peace I'd felt about that choice. I knew there was judgement from the hospital staff, I assumed there would be judgement from acquaintances and even close friends and family. It all felt heavy on top of everything else. She said all the right things and helped to dissipate the mounting sense of regret and guilt I was feeling. She was kind and understanding and I felt no condescension or condemnation. She was such a blessing.
With her help, I was able to leave the following evening after 2 days spent in the hospital. It was Thursday night, and I slept well in my own bed. My children were so comforting and just being around them brought so much comfort.
I was still very weak, but the following morning (Friday, the 19th), I was able to go up and hold Asher. I worried it would be horrible to see him, knowing he would be gone in a matter of days. I prayed that I could endure the day and be granted the strength I needed, both physically and emotionally. I was. I asked Amy and my mom to join us. It felt good to be out of the hospital and back with the people I loved. Kevin wheeled me up to his room. Oh, my heart. He was so beautiful and the love I felt for him was indescribable. There was a sweet and powerful spirit about him.
Holding him, though, felt sacred and joyful. I'd feel a wave of grief here and there, but a general sense of peace overpowered the sadness. This perfect little body and the celestial soul linked to it filled my heart to the brim. He was mine. Too short here on this earth, but eternally linked to me forever, and being with him, especially holding him, felt like stepping a foot into heaven. I felt a sense of who he was and felt humbled that I was able to be his mama.
Kayla, a kind soul who worked at Primary Children's as part of a music therapy program, came and spoke with us about Asher and our feelings for him.
Because I was still so weak, I couldn't stay as long as I would have liked. I'm so grateful for that day, though. The hospital staff couldn't have been more caring, Amy perfectly captured all the things I would want to remember, and I was so grateful that I got to share the experience with my mom, who has always come to help when I've had a baby. It just seems right that she was there with us.
This post has been long, and a long time in the making. It's now been almost 14 months since Asher was born. I've shed a lot of tears as I've recalled the feelings associated with each aspect of his birth and short life. It seems exhausting to now write of his blessing, death, and funeral, but I don't want to drag this out for another year...
The following day, Saturday the 20th, we invited our families to come so they could meet Asher and join with us in giving him a Blessing. This day was full of mixed emotions. I was happy to have so many people I loved gathered together in love for their tiny brother, nephew, grandson, and cousin. It was powerful to see the support we have on this earth in the form of such amazing people. On the other hand, it was hard to share our tiny window of time with anyone. There wasn't enough to share. But everyone who came added to the significance of the day, the impact of his little life, and in the end I thought it was perfect.
My children got to come in and hold him first. I wanted pictures of each of them with him. I don't know how they will each one day view this experience, this hello and goodbye, this disappointing conclusion to their months of anticipation. It was sweet and hard. I felt I was able to put my grief aside for the most part and help them to navigate this complicated experience. Some were happily oblivious, others were deeply sad. Jack seemed to take it the hardest, and I appreciated his reaction as it mirrored so much of what I was feeling.
After this, we invited everyone into the room and our Bishop presided over his blessing. Kayla sang his song, Kevin bore a powerful testimony of the reality of our Savior. I was able to hold Asher as the men laid their hands on his head and and Kevin gave him a name and a blessing. It's been a long time now, and I don't remember all the words he spoke, but there was a powerful spirit in the room. I again felt honored to be Asher's mom. I invited whoever would like to, to take a minute to hold Asher and many did.
Now it's been over 2 years, and I'm here again attempting to finish this post.
As planned, my mom took the kids home, and everyone said their goodbyes. It was just Kevin and me there, with Amy graciously documenting these last moments of Asher's life. By this point, I was physically exhausted, mostly due to the effects of the blood loss. My milk had come in and that added another level of discomfort. Still, I cherished this intimate time with our tiny little son and again felt an overwhelming sense of love and gratitude for him. When we were ready, they gently removed Asher's breathing tube and gave him pain medication to keep him comfortable. We were unsure of how Asher's body would respond and were told sometimes people in Asher's situation will breath on their own for just a few minutes while others will breath for days before they pass away.
After getting a few pictures of Asher without the tube in, Amy left the room and it was just Kevin, Asher and me. It was so very tender. He breathed in gentle gasps every 7 seconds or so. We took turns holding him and cherishing every breath. The nurses would come in here and there to check him and administer more pain medication. All told, he breathed on his own for about an hour and we feel so blessed to have had that time with him. Toward the end, I layed on the bed with him nestled right in with me, just as I had imagined doing so often before he was born. It's one of my favorite things about new babies, that snuggling together when they're finally outside of your body. It's a thought that gets me through the final weeks of pregnancy, the reward I envision in the midst of labor. I let myself relax and just breath him in and it was like heaven. Then, after about 5 minutes, he breathed out the sweetest sigh, the kind that babies make after they've been crying and have been soothed. I've always loved that kind of sigh because it seems to indicate that everything is okay again, you've made everything better and that they're ready to move on with things. This was the last sound Asher made and I knew instantly that he was gone. It felt like such a tender mercy.
There is nothing to describe the feeling of leaving the hospital without your baby. My physical capabilities were maxed out by this point and although the time we had with our Asher was beautiful and sacred, it was as emotionally exhausting as you might imagine it would be to say goodbye to your child. We laid him in his hospital bed and with tears pouring down my cheeks, Kevin wheelchaired me from the room. The staff at Primary Children's were amazing. As we left, a nurse with deep love and sympathy offered one last bit of advice. She encouraged us to be kind to each other as we each grieved and processed this loss in our own way. She urged us to be patient with each other and do our best to not take our emotions out on each other. Although at that moment we felt incredibly close to each other, I look back on this advice and see the wisdom in it because grief is a rough road. Kevin was then and always so tender and patient and kind to me. We felt incredible peace as we drove home that evening. Neighbors had brought over a huge bowl of watermelon and I'm sure I ate more than half of it.
Now, over 6 years since his birth, it's time to finish. The details have faded, so this will be brief. The following days were a blur. My incredible sister in law Nicole and Amy made all of the funeral arrangements. Kevin and I were able to go and dress his tiny, beautiful body in a sweet white outfit, complete with a hat and slippers made by an angel of a friend. It was tender and sacred to do so.
Nick had flown in and Mikelle had driven up with her friend Tammie. Tammie had lost a baby and made the long drive so that I could have my sister there with me on that difficult day. Mikelle had already been there for the hospital stay and the blessing, so it was a real sacrifice to come back so soon, but it meant so much to me. Friends and family, ward members from both Lehi and Pleasant Grove all came to show of their love. It was beautiful and overwhelming to have so many people there. I felt so cared for.
It was a graveside funeral held by the baby section of the Lehi cemetery. We gathered as a family around his casket at the back of the hearse to say our final goodbyes. We put the blanket my mom had made for him around him and let the kids put in some stuffed animals they wanted him to have. We also included a family picture as a reminder that we are an eternal family that he will always be a part of. We each said goodbye, then closed the casket for the last time. Kevin and the boys carried it to the front of the gathering and gently placed it in the designated spot. Each of the kids wrote letters to Asher to share. Kayla sang her song. Kevin spoke, I spoke, bishop Feveryear spoke. We released balloons, and it was over.
I had dreaded that day, the day I would put my infant into the ground. I didn’t know that I could bear it. I didn’t know what I could say. But when the day came, I woke up with a deep sense of peace. I had so much clarity on what I would say and the words seemed to flow onto the paper. It was miraculous. I felt like I had a physical hand on my back, navigating me through these things I had seriously questioned my ability to face, allowing me to help guide my children through some rough moments. I know that angels were there bearing me up. I felt so much love that day, from both sides of the veil.
And that was the story of Asher’s life on earth. It changed me, that is for sure. His story didn't end with his death. The impact his brief life had on mine is incalculable. My grief reached depths I don't know how to describe. I felt so broken for so long. But looking back, I wouldn't change what happened. I still cry sometimes, but mostly I feel gratitude that I am his mom and gratitude for the lessons I learned, though they were hard won. My Savior, Jesus Christ, carried me through and I came to know him and feel his goodness in my most desperate moments. I know that because of Him, Asher is my son forever and that he is still very much part of our family.
