Asher Turns SEVEN

I have been thinking of what I would write for my son’s birthday for the last couple weeks.  When I think about his birth, I think about the most scary time of my life.  I was face-to-face with my very, absolutely worst fear.  One I had seen happen first-hand, just a few months before.

My nephew Gavin died, at 20 days old from SIDS.  That death affected me deeply.  It was over a year before I was not crying regularly about it.  I remember going to my grad lab to volunteer and help a MBC student with her project when I got the news.  As I explained my tears to her and Caroline, in the lab, I fell straight down to the floor.  Crying.  When I got that news, I was driving.  I was told by one of my brother’s girlfriends.  I had no idea.  I answered the phone seeing “EIizabeth”  on my caller ID.  I was just pulling out of my driveway.  I said “hello!” just as happy and chipper as I could.  She knew right away that I did not know.  “You don’t know. I don’t want to tell you.  Call Jennifer.”  I made her tell me, as I turned onto Springbrook.  In that 15 seconds or so it took to leave my driveway, and turn onto the main road, life as I knew it, would never be the same.

I cried.  A lot.  The ugly cry.  I got myself together, and 10 minutes later, I called my sister-in-law.  She answered.  I didn’t know what to say. “Jennifer,” I remember sounding loving, encouraging, not like I had just been sobbing. “tell me what is happening.”

I do not remember her words.  All I knew is that my nephew, my youngest brother’s brand new baby, was dead. 20 days old. 

Had I not had religion then, I am not sure how I could have coped.  I was the strong one.  I was the one all my family looked to.  I was the one who spoke at his funeral, after the catholic priest, who told me “we could have traded talks, and said the same thing.” 

I had just announced my pregnancy publically.  It was with great trepidation that I did that.  I would have never guessed it as a 21 year old with a baby, but I had been really struggling with infertility.  Even now, it boggles my mind.  12 years before, I had decided to wait until things were better to have more babies.  I wanted many more, but I wanted to be done with school, and I wanted to be in a better relationship.  It never really occurred to me that during that time, I would become infertile, but I did.  10 years of birth control pills has been the suspect.

When I set my wedding date in Jan of 2007, I also figured out my  next ovulation date following my wedding.  My body was (IS still) like clockwork.  Ovulation was a piece of cake to predict.  Sure enough, I got pregnant 2 weeks after my wedding.  The pregnancy test showed a bold “PREGNANT.”  It was a week before Father’s day.  I was thrilled.

A week after Father’s day, I was nannying.  I was sitting at the dining room table when I felt inside my body a feeling that was like a spool that had been wrapped really tightly, finally breaking.  I will never forget that feeling.  I went to the bathroom.  Everything was ok.

2 days later, I got a pregnancy test from my dr.  it was positive.  2 days after that, I got up.  It was a Saturday.  That is when the gush happened.  I sat on the edge of my bathtub and cried.  Two days later, I went for another test at my doctor.  That afternoon, I got a call.  The level of hormone had diminished (though still positive), things were not looking good.  When I got the letter from his office two days later expressing sadness and of evidence of a miscarriage, I cried again.  That was June.  This repeated in August, October and December.  Every one of those months, I was LH testing for ovulation, then 2 weeks later, testing for pregnancy.  Every time, I ovulated, I became pregnant, and then 2 weeks later, a miscarriage.

A lady at church told me I should wait a year.  I nodded, but knew I did not want to wait.

In Feb 2008, I had another positive test,  and a lot of nausea, just like always.  2 weeks later, I was driving to work, when I felt the spinning in my body.  I delivered 2 lectures, and called my OB/Gyn office.  I asked to speak to my Dr and he told me to come in. 

I saw a 3 week tiny embryo with the faintest flicker of a heart.  I was optimistic.  Until I got home.  That is when the bleeding started.  I went back into the office 2 days later, to get a prescription for heparin and saw that beating heart again.  I had a blood-clotting disorder, anti-cardiolipin antibody.

I gave myself shots multiple times a day.  Every day.   About 4 weeks after the shots began, during my near-constant state of miscarriage worries, my nephew died.  

That pregnancy was filled with stress and anticipation.  My biggest fear remained another loss of a child. My second biggest fear: the NICU, after seeing my friend’s little boy only leave 8 months after birth.

Then, 35 weeks in, I had to have an emergency c-section. 

His lungs were not developed, and I did not even get to see him before he was taken for oxygen.  He was transported to UVa, I was an hour away from him for 3 days.  I can not think of the first week of Asher’s life without feeling overwhelmed with the fear and anxiety of that time.  There were several days, I was unsure if hewould ever come home with us.  I was in agony from a c-section, exhausted from travel to his hospital, and home, which was 2 hours away.  I had to try to also take care of Valerie, and I was getting frantic calls from work about my return date, my family was also calling frantically, desperate to not be burying another perfect baby boy.

 I did return to work  (both jobs) 9 days after Asher was born, the morning after he came home .  I have no idea how I survived that, but I did. 

His first years were very hard with his inability to sleep longer than 1 hour, most of the time, 30 minutes, at a time.  It was not till he was almost 4 that I discovered large doses of sublingual melatonin were helpful.  Through it all though, I remembered how lucky I was to have him.  Raising him, despite all the exhausting and stress, has always been a joy.

Since asher turned 6 a year ago, I have introduced much change to his life.

Three weeks after his birthday, we moved to Idaho, leaving behind his sister, and his dad.  Asher’s dad moved to the area a couple months later, and Valerie has visited, but I will not soon forget how terrified my little boy was when he did not know where I was, or when I would drop him off to visit his Croshaw family.

He has come a long way in those areas, and now enjoys his visits with his dad, aunt, uncles, cousins, etc.

Asher was also diagnosed on the autism spectrum, in addition to his ADHD.  This one hurt my heart.  I do not want him to struggle, but he already had been.  It was becoming more and more clear that his recognition of social cues is fairly non-existent.  He went to speech and occupational therapy, and excelled at learning gymnastics this summer.  He is learning how to read other’s cues.

Asher is still the sweetest boy, very concerned to not upset anyone.  He will give up his turn if he is asked, he will quickly apologize if he hurts someone.  He seeks for human interaction. 

He has also stopped playing outside as much, in favor of his iPad or video games.  This is really not my favorite development, as little Asher- up until moving to Idaho- would spend his entire day outside playing.  I rarely had him inside if the sun was out.  I prefer that for him.

Asher makes me new friends wherever I am: work, grocery shopping, the park… wherever.  He engages in conversation, and makes new friends.

He loves having a houseful of brothers and sisters, and is especially fond of Taylen, and the girls.  He LOVES when it is just he and McKay at home.

Asher loved going to Roaring Springs all summer with his dad.  I am hoping to teach him to ski this winter. 

I am so grateful that Asher was born.  He has made me into a fierce protector, and someone very grateful for being able to have a baby.  I had 2 more miscarriages after his birth, making him all the more precious to me.  I really did get lucky.