It's November Again

Well, it's that time of year again. The turkeys are on sale, people are slowly putting up Christmas decorations on their homes, and I am once again grieving our first born. In this initial post, I will give you our history.

It started twelve years ago...We had been married a little over a year, and we were anticipating our first child. Michael came a few days before the due date, and everything was pretty much in place. Everything checked out fine at the hospital, and they discharged us the day before Thanksgiving. Like any new mother, I was exhausted. I wasn't sure that I was nursing him correctly, I was nervous about changing his diapers, and I didn't know how to ask anyone for help. I dozed on and off that first night at home with him. My husband helped how he saw fit. As the sun came up that morning, I found my sleeping boy very hard to wake up. He was cold and not responding to our touches. Everything from that moment has been a blur, a bad dream, that I am still wanting to wake up from. Before I new it, the emergency responders were taking this tiny boy to their ambulance...the nice policewoman was reminding me that I needed to change out of my robe and put on a warm shirt and shoes...the policeman said the Our Father and Hail Mary with us as he drove us to the hospital...our family and pastor just seemed to appear out of nowhere...and then a doctor was there, saying they would do everything they could to save our precious boy...our priest went to baptize little Michael...they came back with news that I never thought I would hear...he didn't make it. He was gone.

In the weeks and months to follow, we went through the motions. There was a funeral. There were people that took care of us. My husband went back to work. I was still on maternity leave, so I sat around the empty apartment. Alone. Sure, people called to check on me. I saw my friends and family. The only one who knew what I was going through was my husband, but we didn't know how to talk to each other about it. These are the times when I relied so heavily on God. I never got angry with Him. Deep down I knew that things would get better. I put my trust in Him. I was still confused, though. I wasn't sure what to do.

We didn't know what happened to Michael until early February. The coroner's report said, "Medium-chain acyl-CoA dehydrogenase deficiency." (From here I will use MCADD.) What is that? We had never heard of it. Basically it is a fatty acid oxidation disorder, and those who have it cannot break down stored fat to use for energy. So what happened to our baby was that he wasn't getting a sufficient amount of colostrum or breast milk to give his little body what it needed to survive. Great. So there was nothing we could have done about it anyway. We took this information and had ourselves tested for it...actually just my husband got tested. The test is so outrageously expensive! Anyway, he is a carrier, and we assume that I am a carrier as well.

Our history with loss goes on. After Michael passed away, I was grieving being a new mother. We tried, and tried, and tried to conceive again. This brought news of 4 miscarriages, a surgery to remove ovarian cysts from my body, lots of heartache, and lots of prayer. Fast forward to 2007, when we decided to move to a new town, new jobs, returning to college to get a degree...and another positive pregnancy test. I have a love/hate relationship with pregnancy tests. Also with ultrasounds. We had recently been in contact with a fertility doctor and were told to call him in case of a positive test. We did. There were blood tests. There were daily progesterone shots for 8 weeks or so. After many checkups, the baby was doing well! We were excited! Still cautious, but excited. Then, at 20 weeks, my water broke. That's way too early, in case you were wondering. Long story short (haha), our son was born at 27 weeks and 6 days gestation after a month-long stay on hospital bed rest. He was in the NICU for 7 weeks. Today he is a normal 9 year old boy with MCADD. He is a miracle. I remind myself every day how blessed we are to have him. His four sisters are miracles, too. Only two of them have MCADD. So here we are, a week before my Michael would turn twelve years old. We have five healthy children, and three of them have MCADD. I am still asking God for guidance, for peace, for patience.

"The favors of the Lord are not exhausted, his mercies are not spent; They are renewed each morning, so great is his faithfulness. My portion is the Lord, says my soul; therefore will I hope in him. Good is the Lord to one who waits for him, to the soul that seeks him; It is good to hope in silence for the saving help of the Lord." Lamentations 3:22-26

Thank you for reading. God Bless!