No One's Gonna Love You More
It's been a lazy morning. Jesse had to be at work especially early this morning to help do inventory and as per our routine, I woke up with him to make his lunch -- a turkey sandwich with two slices of cheese; one piece of bread with mayo and other with mustard -- and to chat and to go out to the motorcycle and help take off the cover and locks and pull out the car so he can get out of our parking spot. I then climbed back in bed and closed my eyes, read my books, watched some morning television, and felt the need to write.
We are excited at the possibility of children and growth and we were overjoyed to learn I was pregnant. We took each pregnancy symptom as they came and worried as any first timer would. We worried that my Hashimoto's Thyroidism wasn't under control (although I was feeling so much better), we worried at the first appointment when they discovered my bicornia uturus, and we worried about any impending miscarriage. The weeks passed and our joy grew and grew. Until I felt one of those moments and the Spirit whispered to me that something wasn't right. The next day I got ready for church and my body felt different, and the moment I stepped out of Relief Society I knew that there was a change inside of me. We came home to eat a quick and small bowl of cereal and then eventually found our way to the Emergency Room. The doctor didn't find a heartbeat and a few hours later we learned the ultrasound didn't find one either. But my body already knew. My spirit already knew. Those moments (and hours) that Jesse and I shared together are ones I won't forget. Jesse climbed into my hospital bed with me and the nurse turned off the lights. We felt an incredible loss and we also felt such gratitude that it seemed to fill in the void and overflow into Hope.
A nurse wheeled my hospital bed into the O.R. where a troop of nurses began preparing for my operation. Jesse put these fantastic purple socks on my feet and a lady helped my weak body into the restroom where she gave me a hug and told me, "Everything will be alright" and I believed her. I sat down and let me body shake, contract, tremble and bleed. I sobbed into my nightgown and mourned the loss of our immediate dreams. Then I wiped it away and took some deep breaths and climbed back in the bed, with thick blankets and a warm hose of air blowing inside them. They linked the potassium bag back into my I.V. and the wheeled me into the room where doctors and drugs and a deep sleep awaited. Waking up from the operation was like playing tug of war with reality. Jesse went down to buy my prescriptions. Then back to help me change into my Sunday clothes. A nurse wheeled me downstairs while Jesse pulled up the car. And at 2 am we drove home and climbed back into bed -- where security, love, and comfort reigns.
"It's in these moments," Blair so wisely said, "that the body and spirit become distinctly separate and unified." I know that we are children of a loving Heavenly Father. We were created in his image and we come to earth to experience joy and pain, so that we may return back to Him. I am grateful for the Holy Spirit that speaks to our Spirits and Bodies and bridges the division between Heaven and Earth. Through this experience I have been reminded of my great love for Jesse and his great love for me. He is a champion of kindness and laughter, a heart of gold and honesty. He served me with compassion and care while he was hurting as well. We are each others pal and partner and I look forward to all the moments ahead of me because I get to share them with Jesse.
On the iPhone: So Close, Jon McLaughlin; No One's Gonna Love You, Band of Horses