Harper's Birthday

April 23, 2010

The surgery that was supposed to happen on April 21, 2008, did not happen. The night of April 20th, my symptoms began to improve markedly. "If you can hold on for another 7-10 day treatment, you might not need the surgery. You might not have to put your baby at risk." So, sobbing at the thought of continuing in the pain the treatments were causing, I said I would try another round. But since they were ready to do a pre-op ultrasound in my room anyway, they went ahead and did one. And that was when we discovered that Harper's heart had stopped beating. She did not make it. Her death had provided my body some relief, which was why my symptoms had improved. What a sad twist.

I didn't want to wait to deliver her. The thought of having a dead baby inside me was more than I could handle. So on the afternoon of April 21st they began the slow process of inducing labor. Harper Lee Cashman was born around 11:20 p.m. on April 22, 2008.

On Wednesday, I found myself zoning out all day, images flashing behind my eyes. Conversations. Decisions. Exhaustion. I want to go back there. To do it again, only this time to be aware. I felt so foggy, so heavy and muddled. Everything happened so quickly. Too quickly to understand it all. My mind couldn't keep up with my emotions. Emotions that are still taking the lead, understanding that's still trying to catch up. Just stop!! Stop for one second!! Please! This is all happening too fast. I just want a second to breath.

Jeremy and I took the day off together yesterday. I didn't know what to except, but it was important to me to have one day where I commemorate my daughter. Last year we scattered her ashes on her birthday. In the morning I told Jeremy I was surprised at how well I was doing. By lunchtime I had to excuse myself from the restaurant we went to because the sobs were coming and holding them in was hurting my throat.

We talked about the details of Harper's delivery and about holding her, examining her, marveling at her. I hung on Jeremy's every word. He remembered things I had forgotten. At the time I was so sick and exhausted and emotionally on the edge, I told him I wished I could be there again and be more alert. He told me that he saw a look on my face when I held Harper that he had never seen before or since. He said that he remembered my face more than hers. He said he remembered seeing my dad hold Harper and sob violently. He started to cry. "I don't even need her to be alive Jeremy, I just wish I could hold her and look at her one more time." He said he understood.

My body remembered too. I closed my eyes and I could feel the one push it took to deliver her. I could feel her sliding out of me. I could remember all the strength it took to deliver her placenta. And I was almost startled by the thought that that was giving birth.

Since the beginning of the year I have been anticipating Harper's birthday. And every time I thought about it, I thought about a birthday cake for her. So I spent yesterday afternoon making a chocolate cake and icing from scratch for my little girl. I made the icing pink with purple polka-dots. I think she would have liked it (her daddy certainly did!).

And so I've survived another important date. There's something appropriate about the fact that she shares her birthday with Earth Day, a day for growth and thinking about the future. (She shares it with her Uncle John's birthday too!) Oh my sweet little girl . . .