You know how when you are little you are going to grow up and marry the handsome prince, and live in the little white house with the white picket fence and have 2.5 kids and a dog and a cat? Well, I got alot of that dream. Except he is a red-neck knight in overalls, a dairy farmer named Jimmy Ray (that is his first name, not first and last)...but I live in a little brick house with white windows and a white door and white picket fence out in the country. I do have a dog (well 4) but instead of cats, we have 125 cows. The 2.5 kids? Well, here is that story...
It's really long...
On June 25, 2008 our life changed immensely and forever.
After 25 years of clockwork menstrual cycles, 12 years of marriage, 10 years of conception attempts, 4 years of complete acceptance of our infertility, 1 mini-menstrual cycle, 1 totally, positively, absolutely missed cycle and 1 vomit-fest my husband and I took 2 home pregnancy tests that came out positive! We couldn’t speak – we could only look at each other and laugh. We have never been more shocked about anything in our entire lives. We walked around in a stunned, hopeful yet reserved stupor for the 4 days between the home tests and the ultrasound that showed a very active, highly-likely-male baby. We were positively, absolutely, 11½ weeks pregnant! There was some concern over my age – I was 39, only 6 months away from turning 40 and I was on some medication that was on the questionable list for causing birth defects, but we just couldn’t be worried, we were too excited.
The following weekend was the July 4th holiday, and we told both our families - his on Saturday, mine on Sunday. These were two of the best moments of our lives!
The next few days were a whirlwind of announcements, tears from those who had been through our infertility struggle, baby gifts, and re-adjusting our lives to the idea of being a “family” instead of a “couple”. Then things settled down and we just enjoyed reading our weekly baby-stage updates, thinking about what we were going to do to the “baby’s” room, trying out names (we were so sure it was a boy, we really didn’t talk much about girl names), and just dreaming about the things we would do when he was born. We even went and traded in our much beloved Ford F-150 Super Crew truck for an SUV. We wanted to save money on gas and have a vehicle that would make it easier to get a car seat in and out. We loved that truck. But we wanted to be mature and responsible parents, and did what we thought would be best for the baby!
I went for my 4-month check-up on July 21, and got to see the baby moving around. He was so active and he didn’t like the ultrasound pushing on him, and I got to hear his LOUD and healthy heartbeat! Jimmy Ray wasn’t able to go this time, but I did get to take him more pictures.
Our 12th anniversary was coming up on August 10, so we went on a “12th-anniversary-last-chance-for-romance-get-away”. While on our trip, he bought me a beautiful figurine of a man and woman with their hands resting on her pregnant belly. I never thought we would be able to have one of those for ourselves.
The following week, Jimmy Ray was able go with me to my 5-month check-up. I was 20 weeks into my pregnancy. We first went into the “financial” office and learned the amounts the insurance would pay and what our part would be, arranged our labor and delivery payments and signed the circumcision release form.
As the doctor prepared to listen to the heartbeat, she asked if we wanted to have the ultrasound to confirm the sex of the baby. September is a busy month on the farm, and afraid that Jimmy Ray might not be able to come then we agreed it should be now. She couldn’t hear the heartbeat but told us that it is sometimes hard to hear over the mother’s heartbeat. I told her how every time we had an appointment, I spent the previous evening wondering if there was no baby, if there had been a mistake and I wasn’t really pregnant. I think we had just finally started believing it was actually going to happen. We then went to have our ultrasound.
I knew immediately that something was wrong. First of all, there were 2 nurses instead of the usual 1. When the 1st nurse put the wand on my stomach, there was nothing moving. The 2nd nurse came over and looked and did some adjustments and then left the room. Jimmy Ray says this is when he knew something was wrong. When the 2nd nurse came back in, I realized that there was no sound – the little blips that showed up on the screen last time indicating the baby’s heartbeat were now just straight lines.
By now, I had started to tear up and when the nurse noticed, she looked at me and smiled sadly and shook her head back and forth.
I think I quit breathing for just a second. Then I heard the strangest sound as my husband jumped up and wrapped his arms around me. I realized it was me wailing. Our doctor came in and held our hands and told us it was a confirmed “demise”.
I don’t remember everything she said – just snatches. She reassured us that it was nothing we had done and nothing we could have done would have prevented it. She told us that now that we had gotten pregnant once, we could more than likely get pregnant again. I remember shaking my head no when she said that. She told us that it appeared that he had been gone for about 3 weeks – he had lived only a week past my last check-up. We were 20 weeks, and he had only made it to 17. She said we would need to come back on Friday or Monday to discuss our options; I blubbered that it would probably be Monday. She mentioned allowing nature to take its course, or inducing labor. I heard those words, but I didn’t realize exactly what that meant until later.
I remember little things after that. I remember hearing Jimmy Ray sob once while he was driving us home. I remember not being able to say “dead” when I called my sister to tell her – I just kept saying “he isn’t there”. I remember waiting in the car while Jimmy Ray went in to tell his mom and then him back in the truck sobbing. I remember him telling me that if all he ever had was me, it was more than most people had in a life time.
When we woke up Friday morning, we decided to go through labor and delivery, and to do so immediately. They were able to schedule us for admission on Friday night at 9:00pm. I knew I was going to go through labor and delivery. I knew we were checking in through the Labor and Delivery department. But it never hit me until we actually walked down the hall that I was going to be in the same wing, in a room next door to other people having full term, healthy, breathing babies.
My sister drove in from Nashville and got to the hospital at 11:00pm. They gave me the first dose of Pitocin 10:00pm. I started having contractions around 8:00am, went into labor around 11:15am, and gave birth to a tiny pink baby boy - that I never saw or held or touched - at 11:30am on August 23, 2008. I went in for the D&C at 1:00pm and woke up at 5:00pm and left the hospital at 6:00pm.
While I waited with empty arms in the wheel chair at the door, my husband wandered around the parking lot looking for our SUV. He had only driven it about 3 times, and couldn’t find it because he couldn’t remember what it looked like. It took him 15 minutes.
We buried our only son, John Preston Sloan on Tuesday, August 26 at 11:00am in the family cemetery in a tiny little coffin about the size of an Igloo cooler.
On October 13, almost 2 months after the birth of John Preston, my husband was driving us back from picking out a head stone, and he blacked out and the car veered off the road into a 40 ft ravine. Even while we were crashing down, I knew that he was not conscious. The doctors said that he suffered from Syncope Grief Reaction – sort of like Delayed Stress Syndrome.
Every month seemed to have some sort of anniversary or event that we had to face and work through. In September we faced the one month anniversary, in October we ordered the tombstone and had the wreck, in November we had to go proof the words on the tombstone, in December we had to face my birthday, Christmas and the tombstone came, and finally in January we faced the fact that we would not be bringing home our baby on his due date of January 20.
Although I lost my mom to cancer when I was 15, and Jimmy Ray lost his dad in a car wreck in 2004, we have been so blessed in our lives. We both come from very awesome, very supportive, very faithful families. We have both always been surrounded by caring and loyal friends. We have never been seriously ill. We are not rich, but we have enough money to do the things we want to do and to help others. We own a house free and clear for which we have never had to pay. Most importantly Jimmy Ray and I truly love one another and have a marriage that is more wonderful than I would have ever dreamed was possible.
When we first found out we were pregnant, I told Jimmy Ray that I was a little sad that our baby wouldn’t know my mom or his dad in this lifetime. After we lost him, Jimmy Ray reminded me that they had gotten to meet John Preston first, and that they would take care of him until we got to Heaven. I don’t know what the future holds and I don’t guess we ever will. We can only live in the present and be thankful for every day and every minute we have. I know that some day, we will see him again.
During the summer of 2009, an incredible woman by the name of Robin Cross began working with me. She supported me, listened to me, gave me a care package and helped me make it through the roughest summer of my life. In March of 2010, Robin founded CrossHeart Ministries, and I came on board as the first board member and marketing and publishing guru. CHM is a non-profit geared toward helping women who have lost babied due to stillbirth, miscarriage and infant death. So far it has been my savior.