Today was Sarah's 6th birthday. It was celebrated in a way befitting her place in our family, the youngest girl following behind 2 older brothers and 1 older sister. She wore her sparkly rainbow tiara while playing at one brother's baseball game. It's the only way she knows how to celebrate a birthday, what with being born in the middle of the season. Her birthdays have always involved baseball.
Sarah was born at our house in Virginia. She was nearly 2 weeks late and Bill delivered her. Yep, really. Bill delivered her in our bathroom. On purpose even. He was the first person to see Sarah when she entered our world and the person who had the privilege of telling me that she was a she. It was the most amazing, spectacular, simple birth and I will always, always treasure the memory of that day. Ask me about it sometime and I'll tell you the whole story.
And then later in the day, Bill saved my life.
Without going into much detail, after Sarah's birth I suffered a rare complication that resulted in massive hemorrhaging. According to the Doctor who treated me at the hospital, had I not received medical treatment when I did, I would have died as a result from the major loss of blood. But Bill called the ambulance and got me to the hospital in time. He was so calm and capable.
We used to laugh at that crazy turn of events. How he loaded the kids up in the van (Sarah was only 6 hours old!) and drove through the Burger King drive-thru while trying to decide what to do next. He always joked that he was buying cheeseburgers when he didn't even know if I was alive. How he and Madeline tried to figure out what to feed Sarah should she wake up (we had never used a bottle--I nursed all of the kids). She, providentially, did not wake up until I was out of surgery. We smiled when we would remember how Bill had to hold Sarah while I nursed her because I was too weak to hold her myself. We understood the necessity (to us) of him tucking Sarah and I into the hospital bed so he could get himself to Jack's game later that evening. (He was coaching and would not let Jack down)
For years we have talked about what would have happened to our family if Sarah's birth story had not ended so happily. I guess in some way those conversations were preparing me for the decisions I'm having to make now. Gosh, I never would have anticipated it working out this way.
What has haunted me today, though, what I cannot get out of my head, is that Bill saved me. He really, truly did. I owe him my life. On the anniversary of Sarah's birth, I am always certain to remember what he did for me.
But I couldn't save his life. I tried, but I didn't succeed. That thought, I cannot quiet and it shatters my heart into even more pieces than before.
Our sweet, darling baby girl is now 6 and I am so thankful for her precocious ways and the part of Bill that she represents. Her birthday will always be happy and exciting and sparkly. But the joy that I feel will always be overshadowed by an undeserved second chance that I could not reciprocate.
1 comment:
How well I remember Sarah's birth. How well I remember Bill's quiet determination to do what you and his baby girl needed.
Her memories, her feeling his presence -- these are not how we would have assumed she would experience her daddy, who should have been beard against her cheek. But dear Julie, little comfort that it is -- he will always be in her dugout.
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