Growing up I thought it was interesting that her name was Ruby. I equated it to being named diamond, sapphire, or emerald. I thought it was cool to have a name with such depth. The meaning of the word gem is a precious stone, especially when cut and polished or engraved. When I think about Ruby, I think of a gem that was ever being processed. With every new cut or experience she was being polished so her peace and inner beauty could shine through.
When Mama was in Greenville, Ruby visited her frequently and was there ready in case my Daddy needed anything. In those visits we reconnected. We talked about our classrooms and all the new strategies we were trying. More importantly we talked about our Mamas. We talked about our mamas special connection with each other and their love for yard sales as a way to blow off steam. I am thankful we had those several weeks to reconnect before her battle started.
We went the East Carolina at the same time and we would sometimes have lunch together. We became teachers about the same time and school would dominate any conversation we had when we saw each other. She was also instrumental in us obtaining our first home. She was family.
Now we have memories, good times, and her resilient smile to remember. Remembering her commitment to family is a way I will polish her memory. Ruby, a true gem, that was treasured by so many.
That day I had been working in my classroom, packing everything up. The teacher work days were my first days back since having Sage in April. Sage was there being passed around from teacher to teacher and taking naps in her pack and play. I was giving Amanda a ride home and was looking forward to a slow and quiet evening. I was going to have anything but. When we got to Amanda's house, her Mom was there, playing and talking to the kids.
My Dad called, then it all changed. "Your Mama is acting weird, I can't get her to wake up!" "Let me talk to her!" I yelled through the phone, "Mama, stop playing... Get up!" See my Mama and I have this weird thing with each other, we can get very verbally aggressive with each other when others can't get through to us. Well this wasn't working this time. Then I heard, "What?, Ugh! Yes, I am fine!" My dad yanked back the phone and yelled, "She is out again!"
I walked back into the house and told them I needed to go check on my Mom. Amanda said go, I will take Mason to Bible School with Noah. Jane said, "Meet me at your house and I will keep Sage there as long as you need." They were life savers that night.
On the way, I called James because I knew he could get there before me. As I flew around the curves of Cannons Ferry Rd. I was praying that my Mama would be fine, but deep down I knew this was going to be deep, long, and hard because my Mama was a very strong willed woman. James called as I was pulling into their driveway and said, "Your Mama is bad off." The run between my van and and the door, my mind was racing.
I walked into a room that I had walked into for years, but this time it was different, it was a battle ground. James was sitting in front of my Mama, saying Sarah something is wrong with you, you have to go to the hospital. Then the words that solidified my fears. She looked at James with as much energy as she could muster, "Get out of here, James Copeland. Don't no body want you here no ways." I looked at Daddy and we knew that was not her, she would have never said that to James. To this day, I believe that was the enemy trying to steal her for good.
Daddy and James looked at me and said, "It is your call." I told Mama, "You are going to the hospital either in my van or by rescue, but you are going have to get up and make it to my van." She rocked back and forth trying to get up, got half way there, and fell back. That was last time I saw my old Mama awake. I picked up the phone and handed it to James, and said "call". James got up went to the back of the house and called. Then he started being a fireman, moving furniture and vehicles to make sure EMS could get to her and out with her.
They came. They loaded her on the gurney and in the pouring rain they left. I went over to tell Sarah Mae what was happening. That probably was the hardest part of the entire evening. James and I rode behind the ambulance the whole way to Edenton. After that, everything moved very slowly. We were getting word that her white blood cell count was high enough to be considered septic. Honestly, we were getting plans of a week or two on some iv antibiotics and she would recover slowly. At that point the diagnosis was pneumonia and some cellulitis. She would be transferred to Virginia Beach General or Greenville. We went home that late that night knowing she would transferred to either of those.
Once she got to Greenville, everything got serious. Early Sunday morning on the 18th, my Dad was told about the "possible" blood clot that they had suspected in her right lung. She could not be moved for a CT to confirm because she was too fragile to move. The doctors told my dad that there was ONE medicine they could give her to clear it but it could only be given once. Without it she would die in a matter of days or hours. With it she had a slim chance of making a turn around. So my Dad signed for the TPA to be given.
Meanwhile, at church that very morning a declaration was made that Sarah would be healed and they were thanking God for her healing. My new Mama woke up on day 24 of her coma and I will never forget how she looked when I walked in. That day I begged her to fight, and I noticed the twinkle in her eye that assured me she would. We all remember how painful, hard, and trying the next 6 months were for her and everyone. We praise God for the people that believed along side of us. Oh, and that testimony of hers! Her confidence is higher than ever and she ready to talk about her Healer!
This morning this song was included in worship and I have heard it countless time, but today it meant so much more. See today as I looked over the balcony, my Mama was there singing this song. It took me back to that day 2 years ago when we walked into that battle ground when the enemy was trying everything he could to take her.
I had labored for 25 hours when my placenta tore and I had to be rushed into the OR for a c-section, after being quickly put to sleep. My last thought before the mask was shoved on my face was, "Dear God, please let us live!" Mason was born a "blue baby", because he had been without oxygen for 14 minutes. He was revived and had some oxygen support for just a little while. He also had several ivs during our hospital stay to prevent infections and increased breathing ability.
Where was I during all of this, asleep. I was asleep in the same room where they were working on him. It took me several hours to wake up fully, waking up a few times yelling out, "My baby" still not knowing if he was alive.
Where was his Daddy? He was waiting. Waiting in the same room where I had labored, with hanging cords, and various medical equipment that had been used to try to stop the bleeding and save both of our lives. Everyone in our families saw him before I did. While everyone was looking through the glass at him, I was still asleep. When I finally woke up, I couldn’t feel anything and I could hardly see. The nurses used pillows to prop my arms up so I could "hold" him. I asked for someone’s glasses because I still couldn’t see him. The nurses brought some eye drops so I could see better. I looked around and I had a room full of people looking at me, with the "thank God you are alive look."
Seven years ago I was in a bad place mentally. I was sad, disappointed, mad at myself. Because like many mothers, I had held myself up to some unattainable standard of giving birth. I was supposed to labor quietly, focusing on the baby. I was going to labor mostly at home, with help from a friend. Go to the hospital, and of course say no every time I was asked about an epidural or pain medicine. Then give natural birth, James was going to cut the chord. It was all going to happen like that because I was strong and I did everything "right".
Instead, I had back labor. I had not prepared for that. I was mean during labor. My water broke at home and I freaked out. After some convincing, I agreed to pain medicine and the epidural so my body could "relax". Then IT happen.
Of course, I was so thankful that we both lived and Mason was meeting milestones that ensured me that the oxygen deprivation hadn't scarred him.
I spent my days that summer watching documentaries and reading articles about c sections and immersing myself with all the knowledge I could about c sections. In my mind if I understood it, I could better deal with it. The only exposure to a mother that had a c section was my Grandma Sarah Mae. She had four in the 1960s all under general anesthesia, and has always been very matter a fact about it.
Soon after Mason was born, a very wise friend told me, "your birth story is like precious wine, not to share with everyone." I did not fully know what that meant until, Mason’s birth story was known to the general public of our environment.
People said things like...."I am sorry you HAD to have a c section." "I had all of mine very natural." "At least you didn’t have to push the baby out."
If the c cection mom club could allow me to speak for all of us. IT IS NOT A COMPETITION! For us the alternative of not having a c section means that we would not have our children. Let that sink in. It is not the mother’s fault if the baby is not born "natural". Just this week, a c section was the means of birth for two mothers I know. One was an extreme emergency similar to Mason’s birth and the other the birth of a child that has been prayed for years. Are they any less births? No, welcome to the club ladies.
The same friend that has been my voice of reason told me, "this is happening to give you a testimony and you will need it one day to encourage others." How right she was. Through Mason’s birth story, I learned to trust God in a way that could not have happened any other way. I learned that I had to trust him even through the possibility of death. I would have never been ready to trust him with my Mama if I had not already seen him do it before.
I leave you with this. Be kind to c sections moms, they are dealing with some heavy things. If you don’t know what to say, encourage them. Say things like, "You are going to be such a great mother. Your baby is just perfect. They are beautiful. Motherhood looks good on you!" Cause really who cares how they got here.
This is Memorial Day weekend and like most people we cooked out with family. Sage retreated to her room to sing on her karaoke machine. While everyone was enjoying strawberry shortcake, Sage was content in her room singing "Deep and Wide" and "Jesus loves me". I could hear Sarah Mae humming along in the dining room. I went to Sage’s room and brought out the karaoke machine and of course Sage followed.
They sang several songs together, each one louder than the last. All the while, I am wondering how many more opportunities we will have for such memories to be made.
See, I know what it is like to know that you may never have those moments again. For that lesson alone I am thankful. When my Mama was asleep, that is what I feared the most, not knowing if my kids would have her the rest of their childhood. Through this I try to be intentional about my kids making connections with family in a meaningful way, because one day that is all I will have.
Thursday, I had an appointment for myself in Greenville, Mama rode along. After my appointment we went to Greenville hospital to visit a cousin that had a baby the day before. We parked and quickly got a transport chair and got on our way. After our visit, we made our way around the twist and turns of the west end of the hospital. As we got back to the main hallway, Mama said, "Take me around there where I was at." Taken back by her request, I said, "Mama, We can't just walk up to the MICU." "Yes, we can and we are!", she replied.
We rolled down the hallway past the cafeteria towards the North Tower elevators. We got in the elevator. I pressed number 2 like I had done probably a hundred times before, just this time she was with me. We exited the elevator and I explained to the MICU guard why we were there. She asked if there was a specific nurse that we were looking for. "Krystal Kennedy", I said without hesitation. I knew through Facebook that Hayleigh worked in a different part of the hospital now.
Krystal Kennedy and Hayleigh Westmoreland were two nurses that connected with our family and Mama in a real way. These two ladies walked along side of us as we heard awful news over and over again. They talked to Mama as if she was awake and called her Sarah, which was very important to me. Hayleigh was with me when Mama opened her eyes for the first time on June 28th, 12 days into her coma. As I started shouting, "Her eyes are open!" Hayleigh ran to the cabinet doors and grabbed the pictures of the grandkids and started showing Mama the pictures, with tears just like me!"
The guard hung up the phone and said, "Krystal will be right out." Mama looked up at me and said, "Who is she?" I took a deep breath and said, "Krystal was one of our favorite nurses, she was really good to you. She helped save your life several times, twice while I was there." Mama seemed to take that information with hesitation. Just then the doors opened and Krystal walked out. With tears rolling down her face, she bent over and hugged Mama. Then astonishments rolled out of her mouth. "Where is your trach? Wow you look wonderful! How much weight have you lost? What you don't have any oxygen?" Mama said, "You remember me?" Then she said, "Who could forget you, one of the strongest patients I have ever had." We went back and saw 218, her room. Krystal confirmed a few stories that we have told her about the severity of her sickness.
After that we went over to the step down unit and ran into the Physicians assistant, Pat Rice, that was instrumental in Mama's trach care and got her transferred to Life Care, where she was weaned off of the ventilator. She was also amazed at her recovery. "Only God can do the healing that has happened to you."
There is power in prayer. God's mercy and healing are real, Mama is proof of that and we are thankful to the ones that believed that along with us.
I had an observation in my classroom about a month ago, one of my "things to work on" was I didn't have enough sharpened pencils for the students. Immediately, I had a thought..."I have someone that can sharpen my pencils and she needs some purposeful exercises for her hands." That is what started Mama's new therapy routine. I gathered a gallon bag full of pencils for Mama to sharpen. As I was walking out that day, another teacher noticed my pencils and asked what I was doing. I quickly told her my mom was going to sharpen my pencils, "Oh, can you she do mine too?" Then I had an idea, she could sharpen pencils for teachers from home. Now, you may be reading this thinking, "it is just pencils". You do not realize how much help that gives to a teacher.
After her first batch of pencils she was featured in our weekly staff newsletter...
This is a good estimate of how many she pencils she sharpens in a week!
Since she started sharpening pencils about a month ago, she has regained some more movement in her right hand. Then tonight this happened... We were over at Grandmas, I suggested that maybe she could hold onto a cane now. She grumbled and complained but finally gave into the fact that it would be ok if she wasn't able to do it. She walked so fast down the hall, that I didn't have time to get my phone to record.
