Original post HERE.
Needless to say, the year of the miscarriage, two weeks before Christmas, left a somber mood in our house. That coupled with my sister-in-law’s pending divorce, we all were a little frayed around the edges. Oh heck, we were hamburger, all of us. Just ground to a pulp. But we tried to put a smile on it.
I couldn’t return to work as quickly as I would have liked. My inflammatory bowel disease went into over-drive and well, let’s just say one cannot stand in an O.R. and work for hours on end and sit on a toilet for hours on end at the same time. I asked for and received more time off. I couldn’t do anything athletic and I quit the team I was on. I would not realize it for years to come, but I was also depressed. I carried the burden of self-blame for the miscarriage and I carried guilt for not being closer to the Lord. Oh I talked to Him all the time. Especially the first few years of marriage, after I realized, “Crap! What the hell was I thinking? Marriage is for real!” I did a lot of praying!
Two months after the miscarriage, we made another baby. I decided to hand in my resignation at work. I gave them eight weeks notice. Inside of me I felt I didn’t have the strength to work and carry a pregnancy. I had also read that nurses in O.R.’s had a higher incidence of miscarriage than other nurses. We were surrounded my many kinds of chemicals that we inhaled and handled every day. That could have something to do with it. It was during my years in the O.R. that I was diagnosed with allergies and developed mind-numbing migraines, sinus headaches, chronic sore throats and overall, my immune system seemed to weaken. Not two weeks after leaving work I threatened to miscarry again. I received an ultra-sound and saw the baby. It was still alive and doing cartwheels in its own little swimming pool. I was ten weeks pregnant and I could see its tiny hands and feet. The ultrasound tech told me there was little hope for this one to survive. I was bleeding heavily and he said he had never himself done a sound on such a little one under these circumstances and have it survive. My doctor sent me home to lay down with bathroom privileges only. It was a wait and see plan.
That December, shortly before the anniversary of our miscarriage, our first born arrived. I’ll spare the details of the very long pregnancy and what I endured to get to #1’s birth date. The birth was gruelling. Unfortunately, I was allowed to give birth to a baby that was larger than 10 and a half pounds. Vaginally. It wasn’t pretty. And though we loved our baby without question, #1 looked like an alien from E.T.’s planet. What he endured as a result of that birth, and what I endured would affect us, both, even still to this day. One hundred years ago, #1 would have died in my birth canal and I would have perished as well. We were sitting on a law suit but, being a Christian, I believed it was wrong to sue anyone.
My recovery was slow. #1 ate like a horse. Bruised, battered and marked up pretty badly, the nurses covered the marks as best they could. We still thought #1 was beautiful. We were aware almost immediately that there were issues with the baby’s eyes but it wasn’t anything we couldn’t deal with when the time came. And it did come. I learned that the surgeons I worked with, along with other hospital staff were murmuring amongst each other. I imagine our doctor got proper h e double hockey sticks from his peers. I can imagine their interrogation went something like this: ‘Doctor Know-it-all! What the hell were you thinking letting our little Zoe have a baby that size? Good God man, she’s a toothpick. How’d that happen? You’ll be lucky if she doesn’t sue the snot out of you. Geesh.’
I went home and continued on with life but I was never the same again. My insides had prolapsed while still in the hospital and I went home in a terrible state of mind and body. I loved my baby but barely had the energy to do so. I’m not sure in retrospect that I’ve ever caught my breath since then.
Addendum: This is a three part series that ends with this post.
Secular Wings 
Violet: “If I were asked which country in the world hates the US the most, I would have to say it’s Canada.”
Zoe: I would say if I was asked, the U.S. does a fine job of hating itself and one another. Then maybe China and North Korea might hate you more than Canadians. Of course, I don’t know which Canadians or Canadian bloggers you are referring too.
Violet: “I don’t know why, but it seems it’s a Canadian religion to bash Americans every chance they get. You know what’s odd? I almost never hear of Americans having vitriol for our neighbors North of the boarder.”
Zoe: Almost never but sometimes?
Violet: “I notice that you never talk about your own country on this blog, but persistently harp on every flaw Americans have. I’ve read many Canadian blogs but have had to bow out of all of them for this same reason.”
Zoe: I gave up talking about my own country when my adult children assumed positions in the community and province that would expose them if people knew who their mom was and what she was writing online. That’s also when I chose the option for search engines to ignore my blog. I also moved here to this new url (14 years ago according to my WordPress Anniversary notice last week) when I made those decisions. Up and until then I was followed by bloggers all over the world in the Christian community. During that time I spoke up politically about Canada frequently as it pertained to religion, not just Christianity but often involving Islam. I wrote frequently about honour killings and wrote a long article encouraging a former Premier to outlaw Sharia law. The next day he did. Did he see my article? I don’t know. The point being I was a prolific writer and at that time unafraid in regards to my government. I have been a political person my entire life, having written to my Canadian government during my college years as well as being outspoken in the community, medical and educational system. I’ve also had politicians in my family. It’s in me. As well I have been an advocate for the abused outside the church, for those with special needs, for those who are dying and in the mental health field. At one point, I became very concerned about exposure and people figuring out who Zoe was/is. I also developed a fear because I was outspoken regarding Islam and the honour killings happening here. I was brave then. I’m not now. And though I wrote about this in a previous blog and during my busier blogging days, I was scared to death of a former friend’s “lover” who at one time was involved with (removed as this info. can still trigger me). Shortly after being verbally and abusively in written form, attacked by her, my husband had to pick me up off the floor from being shattered in a million pieces as she told me I was an abomination to the Lord and responsible for raising and immoral and corrupt generation of children. Narcissists love to hit you where your strengths are. Meanwhile she’s carrying on an affair with a converted preacher (removed this info. as it is still triggering) guy. But I’m the abomination. And just sharing that there is too much information to put in a blog.
In my 30’s I fought for my life with severe illness, spending almost 2 years in bed, only later to be hospitalized and fighting for my life sick with intestinal disease as well as battling a body and mind that were deteriorating. If I’m not mistaken, you suffer as well. In my 40’s I began to deconstruct my religion and belief system understanding that I was falling apart emotionally and mentally due to Christian abuse and felt the extreme weight of guilt and shame for having taken part in it, raising my children in it, losing friends over it and being active in youth ministry. As well, I began to develop deep understanding of the roots of original trauma from my youth. I’ve never been the same since. This blog is read by maybe 6 people though all kinds of people *follow* it and commenting here is at a minimum. You have been privy I believe to some of my password protected posts and know some of the shit I’ve been through. You also know I’m not a human being who ignores the humanity of other people.