Anda di halaman 1dari 4

Healing Questions:

My Defining Experience by Rhea Softley TE 803 80 Philosophy of Education September 26, 2009 Almost two years ago exactly, while I was teaching junior high and high school math and living in Wyoming, my life and my outlook upon it changed forever. I had been teaching and coaching for two years and married for one, and was beginning to feel like I was holding the reins and had control of everything happening in my life. I soon discovered, though, that on this so-called ride called life there are no reins and there is no such thing as control. As all good stories begin, this one starts on a football Friday in late September. At the end of the school day I packed up my pile of homework assignments to grade and decided to use my last opportunity for a bathroom break before I met my husband and we started our three-hour journey to my brother-in-laws football game. I discovered, though, upon taking this opportunity that something was seriously wrong. I was going into very unexpected painless labor. I was only twenty weeks pregnant. My husband and I had been nave enough to think we were ready for a baby after only about six months of marriage. We had been lucky to get pregnant on our first try, but miscarried only seven weeks later. This, our second pregnancy, was different. Everything had checked out perfectly for over nineteen weeks, even up to my doctors visit a couple days before I went into labor. That is why I was shocked when upon arriving at my doctors office in Gillette he told me that my cervix was dilating and that my body was trying to deliver the very premature baby. He also told me the baby was going to be a girl. I was rushed to the hospital and was immediately put on extreme bed rest. So extreme, in fact, that my feet were elevated higher than my head. There was a chance the doctor could perform a surgery, a cerclage, where a stitch would be put into my cervix that would theoretically keep the baby inside the womb until it could safely be delivered. Twenty-four weeks became our goal. That gestation is the earliest that a baby can be delivered and possibly survive on its own outside the womb. Twenty-four weeks was also the earliest I could be admitted to the neonatal care unit in Denver. Since Gillettes hospital was a small regional facility with limited options, the thought of being treated in Denver was like making it to the holy land. That there was hope was all my husband and I needed to hear. The doctor tried to perform the surgery after my first night in the hospital. It was unsuccessful I remember waiting on the cold surgery table talking to the anesthesiologist while the doctor tried to perform the cerclage. Im sorry, the doctor finally said. I cant put the stitch in. You appear to be fully dilated. Despite the lump growing in my throat, I managed to speak. What do we do now? Now we just wait until you go back into labor. It probably wont be long. But there is still about a one in ten thousand chance that your baby might make it until twenty-four weeks. That there was hope was all I needed to hear.

Rhea Softley

Page 2

8/22/2011

We waited the rest of that day and through the night. We waited for my body to go into labor and we waited to face the premature birth and death of our first child. Miraculously, morning came without any drama. The doctor performed an ultrasound, and to his amazement my cervix was actually closing to a certain degree. There was more hope. For the next ten days we continued to ride a roller coaster of emotions as I stayed in the hospital. First things began to look up as my cervix continued to return to a more normal 20week-pregnant state. Then I began leaking amniotic fluid. Soon afterward I broke out in a rash as part of an unknown allergic reaction. All the while, though, the baby continued to thrive unaware of the turmoil that was surrounding her. Near the end of the ten days, my condition seemed to be stabilizing and we began to discuss with the doctor and nurses the possibility of my going home and continuing my bed rest from the comfort of my own house. We began to talk about a nursery and a baby shower and even a baby name. My husband went home to make preparations the night before I would be released. At the same time, I started to prepare for my last night in the uncomfortable hospital bed with the symphony of interrupting sounds coming from the delivery floor hallway. The nurses came in to check my vitals and record the fetal heart tones. The nurses were young and often had trouble finding the babys heartbeat because she was still so very small. That night was no different. The first nurse struggled to find the fetal heart tone and promptly called for help from her superior. After she, too, was unsuccessful they tried to use an ultrasound machine. I had witnessed this sequence of events a number of times over my ten days in the hospital, so I remained patient and unalarmed. Finally, after they still couldnt find the babys heartbeat, they called my doctor. Maybe you should have your husband come back, too, they suggested. I started to become alarmed. The doctor arrived before my husband and soon began his attempt at using the ultrasound machine. I saw him look at a number of images flash across the machines monitor. I tried to make sense of what he saw and perhaps what he was looking for, but what I saw provided me with little information. What concerned me the most, though, was that the doctor wasnt speaking. From the moment he began the ultrasound, he remained silent. Usually, he would talk me through the exact part of my uterus or the exact part of the baby that he was magnifying, but this time there was no discourse. He was silent. The room was silent. The lump began to grow again in my throat. Finally, he spoke. Im sorry, Rhea, I cant find a heartbeat. It appears we lost her. They were the last words I wanted to hear at that point, but somewhere in the silence of the room I had come to expect them. I wondered why I didnt cry. Calmly I asked, What do we do now? We began discussing options to remove the baby or wait until I delivered naturally. I wanted to wait until my husband arrived before a decision was made, but I was favoring whichever procedure would allow me to go home the earliest. I wondered why I still didnt cry. I was actually amazed at how calmly and rationally I was handling everything. Finally, my husband arrived. I barely could speak the words her heart stopped beating before I broke into uncontrollable sobbing. Looking back, I think I kept crying for months. When I first began to reflect on these events, I assumed this was my defining moment my transformation from an expectant mother into a grieving mother with the simple ceasing of a tiny heartbeat. What I have found, though, is that it was not this tragedy that defined me, but

Rhea Softley

Page 3

8/22/2011

rather it was my response to this tragedy that has shaped who I am today. In response to losing our baby girl, I began a mission to answer three questions that have since helped define who I am: What is important to me? Why would God allow this to happen? What does it mean to be me, the woman, Rhea Softley? The first things I began to consider after recovering from my hospital stay and returning to school were those things that I considered the most important in my lifemy husband, my family, and my career. Before losing the baby, I had always been a yes girl: Yes, I will help coach. Yes, I will help teach Sunday school. Yes, I will take on extra duties at school. I was used to being single with an ample amount of extra time on my hands, so I would often overcommit without regard to what I was taking time away from. After the loss, though, all I wanted was more time. As I was dealing with a physical, emotional, and spiritual recovery, it felt like all I needed was more time to spend with my husband, more time to visit family, more time to spend catching up in my classroom, and more time to just heal. I had previously agreed to help coach boys basketball that winter, but after I returned to school I asked the administration to find someone else. I had always enjoyed coaching sports, especially basketball, but the seasons are always long and stressful and I knew it would cut into our time at home for the upcoming holidays as well as take me out of the classroom for road trips. Leaving coaching was a hard decision to make, but as I look back it was one of the best choices I could have made. First of all, I was able to dedicate more time and energy into my classroom. I wasnt rushed to make lesson plans, I could keep up with my grading, and I actually had time to reflect on my teaching. Second, my husband and I were able to spend lots of quality time with friends and family over the winter months and holidays. As I soon discovered, we were not the only ones coming to terms with the loss of our baby girl. Our families had also been hurt and were in their own way longing for time with us to help in their own healing process. Finally, my husband and I were able to invest ourselves in quality time together getting to know each other more, grieving together, and refocusing our lives together. We had been told that heart-breaking events like this can either bring a couple closer or tear them apart. We dedicated ourselves to making sure we accomplished the former and to this day are thankful for the bonds that experience created between us. As I had hoped, leaving coaching also gave me an ample amount of time to reflect. Diving into my head and my heart, I often would find myself focusing on one particular question: Why would God allow this to happen? I had been raised as a Christian and although I cannot pinpoint the moment I gave my life to Christ, I can describe my journey from a little girl in Sunday school studying Bible stories to a young woman who makes decisions based on what I believe God is calling me to do. As part of my beliefs, I recognize that God always has a master plan for us even before we exist physically. Knowing this at the time, I began to struggle with the idea that God knew the baby would die prematurely even before she was conceived. Why then, did He even allow me to get pregnant? If He knew how much pain it would cause us, why have her exist in the first place? Wouldnt it have made more sense if I just hadnt become pregnant at all? As I struggled with these questions, I also struggled with the thought that my faith had been shaken and I was beginning to question God. Fortunately, shortly after I returned home from the hospital and reclaimed my routine, I began attending a womens Bible study at the church we attended. We studied Lord, I Want To Know You by Kay Arthur, and through tears, and laughter, and openness, and embraces, we learned about the many aspects of God. I, especially, felt tied to the material describing God as an ultimately good and loving father. From this study, I began to realize that any heartache or

Rhea Softley

Page 4

8/22/2011

pain that I felt as a result of our loss was not because God wanted to see me suffer, but because He loves me. Just as a master gardener trims and prunes to grow a stronger and healthier plant, so I believe God was trimming and pruning me to make me a stronger and healthier wife, mother, teacher, and Christian. Now, whenever I experience a challenge, whether large or small, I dont blame God or even question Him. Instead, I focus on discovering how God might be using that challenge to lovingly mold me. So, after discovering what was important to me and realizing how God was working in me, I began to search for the answer to the ontological question of What does it mean to be me, Rhea Softley. Growing up on a farm and witnessing the birthing season of calves, kittens, lambs, puppies, and chicks, I felt connected to my basic, natural, animalistic role as a femaleto reproduce. I had always wanted to be a mother and I even dreamed of having a large family one day. Looking back on my two failed pregnancies, though, I began to question whether or not having one child was even still a possibility. After losing our baby girl, the doctor had diagnosed my problem as an incompetent cervix and warned me that it was likely that every one of my pregnancies would have a similar fate. He advised getting the cerclage surgery done early in the next pregnancy and then to expect to be on bed rest to increase my chance for a full-term delivery. For some reason my mind always went back to my fathers rules for his cattle herdif a cow lost one calf he would keep her around, but if she lost two she was sent straight to the sale barn. I could not help but feel like I was sale barn material. Fortunately, though, I had my faith and I had already resolved the question of why God could allow me to have struggles. I concluded that if I had been given the fate of never having children of my own it was only because the plans God had in store for me were better fulfilled without that experience. Perhaps we were meant to adopt, perhaps I was meant to live a lifestyle unsuitable for a child, or perhaps we were just meant to learn a few more life lessons before attempting to raise a child. I began to understand that as a woman I was capable of much more than reproduction. In fact, I could devote my life to serving God fruitfully with or without a child of my own. I discovered then and have since believed that I am much more than sale barn materialI am Rhea Softley, and God has a unique plan just for me. Nearly fourteen months after losing the pregnancy, my husband and I experienced another life-altering eventI delivered a healthy, full-term baby girl. I often hold her in my arms now and think back to the sequence of events that led up to her birth. There are timesas Im sure most mothers dothat I feel inadequate as a mother, but then I remind myself how much I have changed over the last few years. I know now what is really important to me and I continue to make decisions every day that allow me to spend more time with my husband, my family, and working on my future as a teacher. I know in my heart that God is good and He loves me so much that He will even allow me to suffer if it means I will grow from it in the long run. Also, I understand that I have a much greater role on this earth than my fathers cows and that my life is not defined by whether or not I have children. I will never say that I am glad we lost our first baby girl before we had the chance to know her, but I am thankful for the insights I gained as I recovered from that loss. The answers I found as I healed that emotional wound have defined the woman, the wife, and the mother that I am today.

Anda mungkin juga menyukai