A Little Patch of Grass

After our surprise hospital stay at 32 weeks pregnant, we have known that Miles does not look very good on Non Stress Tests (NST’s). I have asked many times if there is something else wrong with him and the answers have varied, but mostly the answer is we don’t know. Since then, I am required to get a Biophysical Profile ultrasound twice a week. This ultrasound looks for fine and large motor skills, amniotic fluid levels and he has to practice breathing for 30 seconds in a 30 minute period. At every test, he waits until the 29^th minute to start breathing. Every time I ask God to show us he is healthy and to make him breath if he is actually ok. Every time he has passed all the tests, until today.

At today’s ultrasound, Miles wouldn’t move at all. He wouldn’t breath. The tech was almost violently shaking my abdomen, but still nothing. I wish I could say this surprised me, but nothing does anymore. The doctor decided to follow with an NST which was pretty unnecessary to me since I already knew what would happen. He didn’t do anything during the NST either. Normally, all of the results would send me back to the hospital but there is an overall sense of what’s the point? I need to have these tests redone tomorrow and I have a feeling if they are the same, I will be in the hospital again.

When the medical staff talks about my son, they have a sad, solemn look on their faces and don’t look me in the eye. They use words like “Unresponsive,” “Non Reactive” and “Under Performing.” They say things like “Wake up baby!” None of these results are new or unexpected but today they just affected me differently. The tears flowed easier today and fear gripped my muscles. All my nervous habits have come to the surface. These words are describing a real person. This is a real life. This is my son’s life. I want to believe that he will be ok. Some days I truly believe it and some days I’m just convincing myself.

So many people have graciously and selflessly helped us through this time. There has been emotional and financial support that we have desperately needed. Eventually my parents couldn’t bear that fact that every dime we have and that is given to us, just goes to doctor bills and all fun things have gone out the window.

For a long time I have daydreamed of having a patch of grass in our yard for our kids. My parents paid for us to get this patch of grass but it hasn’t been installed yet. I spend a lot of time staring at our dirt yard, fantasizing about this little piece of life growing in it. I picture getting to watch my boys play in this grass, watching them grow and hosting friends in our yard. I used to imagine a life of jet setting and excitement but now I just daydream of a little piece of grass in my yard. It seems like such a luxury now. Something so simple will mean so much.

Most people won’t understand what this grass will mean to me. It has almost been a little token of hope through this all. When I picture Miles at his healthiest, he is laughing and giggling in the grass and playing with Weston. I have tried to pass the time of anxiety of serving others in whatever way I am capable as I have accepted so much service lately. But in my quiet moments, I stare at this yard and imagine what is to come.