Pregnant with purpose, being delivered into my destiny. Pt.8

I’m back! Did you miss me? I certainly missed you. I’ve been facing these monster emotions and licking my wounds as I relive these situations during the writing process. Can I be honest? I wanted to stop, y’all. I wanted to end this series and start something new. I have a ton of other ideas I’d like to write about…. But I can’t walk away from this. Something I believe to be The Creator is leading me to continue. Why did I want to stop, you ask? Well, because it is painful. You see, I thought I was over all of this. I thought these situations no longer had an impact on me. I was so wrong! I realized that I hadn’t leaned in and felt all the emotions and faced these situations head-on. I kinda faced it and allowed time and space to settle in, creating a facade of healing.

I even considered writing you a cute watered-down version, but that just ain’t me. I started this honest and transparent, and that is the way we will end. NO MATTER WHAT! I’m dancing through the pain! As Tyree, my son, says, “Pain is fear leaving the body!” I can do ALL the hard things! So forgive your girl for being slow. Thank you for allowing me to process the feelings and present the real me to you. I’m grateful for you. I’m grateful for your time. Thank you for sticking with me on this journey. Y’all ready to get into this? Let’s do it!

Part 8

Jaaziel’s breathing tube was taken out later that night, and Jaaziel and I began to settle into our routine. She was thriving. She was a very healthy eater, surpassing all of the benchmarks the hospital staff set for her. The doctors would refer to her as a “superstar”. I held on to that. I camped out in her room and introduced myself to all of the hospital staff that cared for her. Soon my doctors informed me that it was time for me to be discharged. I tried my best to talk my doctors into letting me stay. I didn’t want to leave my Jaaziel at the hospital. Under normal circumstances, this would be wonderful. This was anything except normal for me. I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to stay with Jaaziel. I decided that once discharged, I would simply move into Jaaziel’s room. There was a nice recliner that I had become fond of, and at this point, all I needed was her. I was so thankful for my mother being in town to help watch the boys. This was precisely the type of support I needed to ensure that I could devote my attention to Jaaziel. The Anesthetist was not a fan of me staying. He said, “You do have other children. You need to be a mother to them too”. I really didn’t understand why he wanted me to leave our baby in the hospital alone. I was confused. I resisted. I told him that the staff was fine with me staying, and I wouldn’t be able to sleep without her anyway, so I was doing everyone a favor. I understood that this was a reality for so many women, but it was not my norm, and the pain I felt was so real and so very intense. Nothing about the thought of leaving her seemed remotely possible. The more the Anesthetist spoke about my other children, the more guilty I felt. He reminded me that Zari (Azariah’s nickname) had a birthday coming up. He said, “How is he going to feel with you being in the hospital and not being there to celebrate his 7th birthday?” His words made me feel like a terrible mother. How was I supposed to be in two places at once? I certainly didn’t want Zari to feel rejected on his birthday, but I also knew that Jaaziel was only 3 days old, and she needed me too. I talked to the nursing staff to get their thoughts on it. They assured me that she would be in good care. They provided me the direct number to the nurse’s station and let me know that I could call and speak to her nurse whenever I needed to. They also told me that I was able to come back anytime I wanted. I also called my mother to get her perspective. She explained that she was there to help in the house so that I could stay with Jaaziel. I decided to listen to the Anesthetist. He came to pick me up from Jaaziel’s room late in the evening. I hesitantly left Jaaziel’s room after kissing her and letting her know I would be there first thing in the morning.

As we walked to his car, I felt weak. Nothing about this felt like the right thing to do, but I still kept heading to his car. As we left the parking lot and I looked at the hospital in the rearview mirror, I fell apart. I put my face in my hands and sobbed. I felt like I was abandoning Jaaziel. The pain I felt was indescribable. The Anesthetist asked why I was crying, and all I could manage to say was I’m leaving my baby. He didn’t understand. He thought that I should be able to deal with this because other women have had to do this.

I understood that he saw things from the perspective of a father based on his experience. He didn’t have the same type of bond that I had with my children. He didn’t know what it was like to carry and care for a baby for nine months. He didn’t understand the bond. I wanted to explain, but I was in pain. He kept reminding me that I have other children at home. His words pierced my heart. They etched away at the foundation of the motherhood I thought I’d created. At that moment, I did not feel like much of a mother at all. I felt helpless and small. I felt emotional and raw. I just felt wrong. I felt wrong for leaving Jaaziel. I felt wrong for wanting to be with Jaaziel on Azariah’s birthday. I felt like I was a failure.

When we reached the house, the kids ran to the door and greeted me. They asked where Jaaziel was. I explained that she was still in the hospital. I melted again. I hugged them and told them I missed them. I couldn’t wait for them to see her. My heart was comforted by the warm energy of my home. My father had arrived earlier in the day, and the house was buzzing. My mother studied my face. She saw the pain. She finally broke her silence and said, “Why did you come home?” I looked at the Anesthetist and said he thought that I should be here for the boys. She quickly said, “That is why I am here.” She explained that she knew that I needed to be at the hospital, and she too would not be able to leave her baby. She understood my pain. I tried my best to hide how I was feeling. While I was happy to see my boys, I felt like I left my heart in the hospital. I asked the Anesthetist if he was planning to stay with me. He said that he needed to go get some more clothes and would be back. Several hours passed, and I realized that he was not coming back. I called the hospital to check in on Jaaziel. The nurse told me that she was doing fine. She also told me that her father was really sweet and that he had just left the hospital. She said that he told her that he had not had the opportunity to spend time with his daughter alone because I was always there. When she spoke those words, I died a little. I understood woman to woman what she was saying to me. I understood who I was in a relationship with. I could tell from her conversation that he implied that we were not together. I was confused as to why I had to be gone for him to spend time with his daughter. Then it dawned on me. While he probably wanted to spend time with Jaaziel, he also saw the opportunity to look good and potentially capture the attention of one of the nurses. I was sickened. Did he convince me to come home so that he could spend time with his daughter alone? If that was the real motive, he could have talked to me, and I would have gladly given him some one-on-one time with her while I remained in the hospital.

I wondered if he saw all that I was doing to care for her? Did he know that I was building a rapport with the staff and advocating on her behalf to ensure that our daughter received the best care? Or did all of that fall to the wayside when he saw the opportunity to pique the interest of another woman? Sleep did not come easy for the rest of the night. I let my thoughts and emotions carry me away. All I felt was rejection, abandonment, and confusion. I was angry, then sad. I was red hot mad, then depressed. I was embarrassed, then disappointed. I was confused and deflated. I was all of these emotions at the same time while trying to trick my body into thinking it was relaxed enough to produce breastmilk for a baby who would not latch on. My body was not fooled. My body was existing in reality while I avoided all the emotions I was feeling from the Anesthetist while maintaining the facade of a solid relationship in front of my parents, and having just given birth, there was no peace for me. 

My body healed slowly. I felt the pains from childbirth much longer than I had previously. I knew the best remedy would have been for me to be still, to lay down and allow my body to rest. I also knew that was not possible because I needed to get back to the hospital to Jaaziel. Early the next morning, I showered and tried to make myself “cute”, which is code for not looking like what I was going through. It still hurt to stand up straight, but I managed. My mother was planning a BBQ birthday for Azariah. I let her know that I was headed back to the hospital to be with Jaaziel. I talked to the boys and explained that I needed to be there with her. I told them Grandma and Grandpa were taking good care of them and were planning a fun day for them. I explained their sister didn’t have anyone with her. They understood. I told them that they should all plan to come to the hospital to see her the next day. The boys were really excited. With that, I packed my bag and was off to the hospital. My mood lightened as I headed back to the hospital. I was no longer concerned about what the Anesthetist’s intentions with the nurse or any other woman was. I just wanted to be with and care for my baby. I was thrilled to see her. I rushed over to her bedside and held her hand, and let her know I was back and I wasn’t going anywhere. I knew I needed to be at the hospital. It felt right. I jumped into caring for my little one and listening as the hospital staff discussed Jaaziel’s progress. They said that she was doing wonderfully and that she might be able to go home on Friday. I was beside myself with JOY!!!! I was amazed that she would be going home on June 1st since the thought was she would be in the hospital for a few weeks. The doctors told me that she would be discharged as long as she continued to pass the benchmarks they established, and most importantly, there was no Cerebrospinal fluid (CSF) in the tube in her surgical site.

I understood the importance of that and agreed. The doctors also told me they would teach me to insert a catheter in her bladder every four hours to make sure it was empty. The thought of this made me a little uneasy, but I was willing to do all that was necessary for my little one. I agreed and happily agreed to the training. The doctors told me that we might alter the number of times that she was catheterized because she was voiding on her own. This was major and quite unusual. The myelomeningocele was in the “Sacral” region of her spine, which might’ve caused issues with voiding on her own. But once again, God showed up! She was soiling her diapers on her own without the catheter.  

A male nurse came in to train me on the catheter process. I observed him as he attempted to insert the tiny catheter into her bladder. I noticed that no urine came out in the process. The nurse seemed to question this as well. He went to get another nurse to assist. When the other nurse, a female, came into the room, she said that the catheter was in the wrong space. I shuttered with fear. I questioned what issues this could cause in the future. I asked if we could have possibly injured another area of her body? This thought sent shockwaves through me. When the training session was over, I went to God. I asked Him to protect my Jaaziel. I asked that if something was injured, that He heal her. I asked Him to take away any fear and anxiety that I was feeling. I said that I knew that fear was not of God. I said that I knew Him to be a miracle-working, expectation-exceeding God who was able to do the unthinkable! I prayed and asked God to take care of His small-huge miracle in a tiny baby girl’s body…Jaaziel!

Later that day, my parents and the boys came for a visit. I was so excited! I couldn’t wait for them to meet Jaaziel. I knew it would be love at first sight for all of them. I didn’t want her to get too accustomed to the quiet calmness of the hospital. That would surely be a setup of EPIC proportions!! She needed to know that she was coming home to a lively home of wild boys. I needed her help in reigning all this testosterone in. When they walked in, they rushed over to her bedside. I could tell they were a little saddened by the intravenous tube in her hand and the surgery drain tube in her back, but that didn’t stop them from showing her love. I could also tell that my parents were pained seeing their newest grandchild in this position as well. Jaaziel was determined to show them that there was no need to be sad for her. As soon as they started talking, she opened her eyes and moved her head to see them. She seemed to be very focused on them. They loved the way she held onto their fingers and looked into their eyes. I could tell they accepted her as one of their own. She was “one of the boys!” As a mother, I was proud to see my tribe. I didn’t care that I didn’t have a husband or that my family didn’t look like others. I was proud of the love that I saw between all of them. I could see the genuine concern, warmth, excitement, and love between them, which was enough for me. I was proud of my family.

The days inched on, and each day was filled with moments of anticipation while waiting for her to take tests followed by feelings of gratitude and excitement. Jaaziel was a superstar. She was passing each and every one of those benchmarks with flying colors. Then Friday arrived; it was the day we targeted to go home. To say I was excited was an understatement. I wanted, no, I needed to get her home to start our lives together. Yes, we were alive at the hospital, but I had bated breath every time one of the doctors or nurses came in. Although I had faith, I also had the foreboding joy that Dr. Brenee Brown talks about. For those unfamiliar with foreboding joy, it is the negative feeling you get every time something good happens. I promise you we all do it on some level.

When something really good happens, oftentimes there is a little voice in our heads that says something terrible will happen now. Monique Moment: It takes work to change foreboding joy. The first step is recognizing that you are doing it. Then you can start to address it by flooding your mind with positive thoughts as soon as you realize the negativity. If you are not familiar with who Dr. Brenee Brown is, please check out her TED Talks and books. I promise you they will change your life. I owe so much of who this “new me” is to her. Y’all know I talk about her like we are good friends, right…Don’t judge me. She is one of my mentors; she just doesn’t know it…At least not yet.

Okay, back to my point, I was ready to get home and start to live. I knew that life would be different from it was with my boys, and that was fine. I’d been blessed with this beautiful baby girl. I wanted to pour into her all of the things I received, and all of the things I didn’t receive. I wanted to show her that she was deserving of all the love and all the confidence she could imagine. I tried to hold her, tell her and show her that she was wonderfully and fearfully made in God’s image. I wanted to continue caring for and supporting her and wanted to be her mommy outside of the fluorescent lights of the hospital. I wanted to experience Jaaziel in my life.

My mother and father were delighted to hear that Jaaziel was coming home later that evening. They had to return to Philly to take care of some things, but my mother assured me she could return if I needed her to. I thanked her and told her I thought we would be okay. The Anesthetist and Zyon came to the hospital as we were being discharged. I was so happy to see Zyon. Even at such a young age, he was showing up in support of Jaaziel and me. This is who Zyon is, and he had a special bond with his sister. He took a genuine interest in her health and has always been a very compassionate person.

I wasn’t shocked at all to see him strolling in the doors and rushing over to play with her. I remember being so proud that he cared enough to want to come to the hospital to bring us home. It reminded me once again that my family may not look like the traditional family, but there was no doubt that we were a strong family. The love was proof positive of that. Then it happened - it was time to go. All the doctors and nurses that cared for her stopped into her room to wish her well. It seemed strange leaving. We were only there for a week, but we bonded with one another. I felt too familiar with them. This was a testament to their excellent bedside manner. I felt like I was leaving good friends. They seemed genuinely concerned for Jaaziel’s wellbeing, not just because they were her doctors; they seemed present and invested in her care. This was such a comforting feeling, and I was so grateful for it. I felt such compassion from them as we packed her room, and they walked us to the elevator. I was almost skipping down the hall out of the hospital. Okay, so yeah, no, I wasn’t skipping because I was still in pain, so it was like a slow stroll, but you get my point. I was thrilled to be leaving the hospital with Jaaziel!

On our way home, the Anesthetist said that he wanted his aunts to see Jaaziel. I was okay with that. It was late evening, and the sky had turned dark, and it was storming, but I was more than happy for Jaaziel to meet some of his family. We pulled up to the Anesthetist’s aunt’s house and sat in the driveway. I remember studying the Anesthetist’s face from the backseat. I could tell he was working things out in his mind. I wondered why he wasn’t opening the car door so that we could go in. We just sat there in the driveway. I asked, “Are you okay?” He said he was. Then he started the car, and we pulled off. I had a ton of questions. All of which I wanted to ask right then.

I decided not to sour the moment. Zyon was in the car, Jaaziel was sleeping peacefully, and I was headed home. There was no room for negativity at that moment at all. The storm was raging as we pulled up in my driveway, but that didn’t stop me. As soon as the car was in park, I pulled a blanket over the car seat to shield her from the rain, and we went into the house. This was the moment I was waiting for. We were home. I sat on the couch with her car seat in front of me and took my beautiful baby girl out and held her. I loved the way she felt in my arms. It was so difficult not to hold her when I wanted to over the last week because of her surgery and the tubes, but this was the moment I was waiting for as her mother. The boys situated themselves on the couch near me and put blankets over their clothes, signaling that it was their turn. I wanted her all to myself, but I realized they needed this too. We all needed to bond with her, and she needed us, so I didn’t stand in the way. There is nothing more beautiful than watching rough boys hold and kiss the head of their new sister. The love was real in that room. The Anesthetist announced that he would run out for a minute and be back later that evening. I knew that wasn’t the case but said okay. To be honest, I wasn’t upset. I knew these three handsome boys and this beautiful new baby girl was my life, and that is where my attention should be, and it was.

Settling into my new routine with my three children was fun but taxing, if I’m honest. Although I was at home with Jaaziel and she was doing well, I was still not fully allowing myself to live my life. I was sustaining between her doctor’s appointments. There are frequent doctor appointments for newborns, but for Jaaziel, that number was a bit more. We had follow-ups with the orthopedic surgeons, the neurologist, the regular pediatrician, and Kennedy Krieger Institute - Spina Bifida clinic of Johns Hopkins. There were so many doctor appointments. I tried as best I could to put them out of my mind. Yes, I know that I was living amid a miracle, and my faith was still very much intact, but I’m still human. I was grateful and thankful for the favor that God showed my family, but I was still allowing fear to creep into my human mind. I feared bad news at each and every appointment that we had. Let me tell you, this is no way to live. The stress itself is unbearable. Fear is not of God. That is really easy for us to say when we are not living through the storm. Fear is just a four-letter word when we are not sustaining through the situation. We even say how fear is simply False Evidence Appearing Real. These are all true, but in the midst of a season of trials and tribulations, fear can often become much more than these words. Fear becomes debilitating. Fear becomes crippling. Let me make it personal. Fear crippled me. Fear robbed me. Of what? Fear robbed me of my life. Fear stopped me from being fully present with my daughter and my boys because I always fast-forwarded my life to the next doctor’s appointment. I spent so much time playing chess with the news I “might receive” in my head. Please don’t get me wrong, I was there. I have fond memories of the time we all shared, but I also recognize a deep and profound heaviness present. This heaviness is the fear I ALLOWED to rob me of life and experiences during this precious time with my family. 

Believe it or not, that’s not the most heinous crime fear committed at that time… Fear robbed me of my relationship with Jaaziel. I’m going to pause and let that marinate in your mind for a moment. The exciting part is that I really didn’t recognize this until I started writing this series, but it is very true. I also acknowledge that it was a well-orchestrated attack from the enemy, which confirms my knowing that my purpose, my ministry, is directly linked to my children. Let me break this thing down, y’all. So we know that it is a fact that the most critical foundational moment in a child’s healthy development is rooted in skin-to-skin touch. This experience or lack thereof in the first few hours of their lives creates a ripple effect positively or negatively. I wasn’t able to hold Jaaziel when she was born. For her safety, they showed her to me and took her away. If you recall, over a day passed before I was able to hold her. I understand that this was medically necessary, but I recognize another force at play here, a spiritual one. I also informed the hospital staff that I wanted to breastfeed her. They mistakenly gave her a bottle when I was being evaluated in my room after delivery, and she became used to the shape of the bottle, the free flow of the nipple, and the taste of the formula. This made her nursing at my breast impossible because she learned that she could get food without working so hard to nurse. Once again, this lack of touch impacted both of us. I still continued to pump and put it in a bottle, but that skin-to-skin bond was missing. The biggest issue is that I was fixated on being the caretaker and not enough time on just being a mommy. I was Jaaziel’s caretaker, I was the caretaker of the Anesthetist and his emotions and fears, I was the caretaker of the fears and emotions my parents had. I was out of position. I should have just focused on being Jaaziel’s mommy because time is the only thing she and I can’t get back. These distractions and circumstances created a distance between her and me. One that did not exist between the boys and me, and that caused me pain. I allowed my fear to shift my focus to so many other things that pulled me out of position, and this was enough of an opportunity to enable space and distance to take root. It’s painful for me to acknowledge, but it is true. Monique’s Challenge:  My challenge to you as you read this is to keep fear in check and make sure the enemy isn’t distracting you while seeds of obstacles and stumbling blocks are sown where you should be focused. Please understand that as soon as I recognized what started at the beginning of her life, I shifted my focus, and I fought to make the situation right because I knew my life and hers depended on it. (I’ll tell y’all about it in another post.)

Fear had me weak, y’all. I was fighting but just barely. I was going through the motions; I had moments where I was present, but I was honestly a shell of who I was. I was tired. I was worn out. I was weary and weak. As a mother of a newborn a few weeks old, you know sleep was not found easily. I also managed the house and cared for my three sons and all their needs on my own. I was exhausted. And what do we know happens when we are tired and weak? Well, it’s normally when issues show up. Those of you who recognize that there are spiritual forces at play when you are tired know that the enemy will launch an all-out attack on you at that time.

And so it happened: my phone rang. On the other end, a female voice that I recognized from my past said, “Monique, I’m the Anesthetist’s wife. I have a question for you. Are you still seeing my husband?” I was now nauseous. I looked down at Jaaziel’s face as I held her and realized that I couldn’t and didn’t want to deal with any more drama. She deserved better, and so did I. So I responded, “Yes.” Just as I responded, Jaaziel made her presence known by cooing loudly. The Anesthetist’s wife said, “Is that a baby?” I replied, “Yes, and it is the Anesthetist’s baby.” She asked how old she was and what her name was, and I shared that. She asked to see if I gave Jaaziel the same initials her children had, which I intentionally did not. I could tell that she was aligning Jaaziel’s birthday up with all of the Anesthetist’s missing moments from her life. She said, “So that is where he has been.” I said to her he assured me that they were over, and from my experiences and time we shared, it seemed believable. I trusted him…sadly… I let her know that I was not here to argue and “do this” with her. My issue was with the Anesthetist, and my intent was to deal with it with him. As we ended the call, I looked at Jaaziel. She was so new. Her eyes were so bright and full of love and promise. All I felt was pain. My heart pounded with the fierceness of a caged lion. There was a loud ringing in my ears. I felt like the little strength I had left my spine as I laid in the fetal position with Jaaziel. My breathing was deep and labored. I was broken. I was a million pieces of the Monique I used to be because truth stepped in. I remember looking out the window as I laid on the bed with Jaaziel. It was an absolutely picturesque June day. There was a soft breeze blowing the leaves on the trees. I could hear the boys laughing and watching television down in the living room. And here I lay with my beautiful baby, watching my world come undone in my mind’s eye. I surrendered to the pain. I leaned into the hurt; it needed to be real. I realized that running from the pain allowed me to stay complacent, so I needed to be in pain and talk to God. I didn’t talk to the Anesthetist in that moment. I was confident he and his wife/not-wife - depending on who I was speaking to - had things they needed to work out. I didn’t want to talk about it with my mother or sister-friends. At that moment, I needed to be in MY position. My position was Monique, although very broken. My position was Jaaziel’s and the boy's mommy. My position was to just be.

I will pick up with Part 9 soon.

Keep evolving toward excellence!!