Angel's thoughts

After she passed away, I sat and watched her for a long while. Her extremities had been going cold long before her final breath, as in those last hours of her life, I rubbed her feet hoping the friction of my hands may bring warmth to her. But it didn’t.

I was exhausted, never more than she had to be in those last hours. She had trudged bravely with her illness, never letting on until the weekend before she passed, that she would leave this world. Our world. Our lives.

It’s been 21 months, 10 days, 14 hours, and 49 minutes, since she left for that light. I no longer count the time she has been away like that…but am well aware of each passing month, marking another anniversary of her death. I miss her as much today, this minute, as I did in those first 72 hours after the funeral. My life would never be the same, she told me, and she was head on.

Now, instead of dwelling every minute over her leaving me, she crosses my mind in quiet contemplation over what she would say about whatever may be going on my life, or my children’s. Not one day passes that she doesn’t cross through my thoughts. In the early days afterwards, I found solace in sleep and as much as I could get. Every afternoon, exhausted from my own emotions, I’d lay down on my sofa, and sleep. Those naps became a ritual in my depression. They offered me escape from the horrible reality of life without her and they brought her back to me in my dreams. Eventually it was no longer about the depression, as much as it was about getting glimpses of her in my dreams.

Sometimes speaking to me, sometimes, speaking to others around me, sometimes, not speaking at all, but watching me and I could hear the unspoken words she said to me.

I found myself reading every bit of information I could find on the net, at Barnes & Noble, in the Bible, about life after death. I read and read, until I felt no more NEW information could be had. But I learned so much through that time. One article stated that when you pray to your loved one that has passed, a light shines brighter on them in Heaven. Another stated that unspoken words in a dream are more a visitation from your passed loved one. It when on to claim that spoken words were your alter ego, acting through your thoughts subliminally.

At night and sometimes in the earliest hours of the morning, I head to the deck with coffee in hand. Scenes from our lives, intertwined, replay over in my head. Then I start talking to her. Sometimes, I can almost hear her answer the conversation in my mind. I will tell her how much I miss her. I tell her, if I had the chance right that minute to talk to her, I’d question her endlessly on her departure and arrival to Heaven, asking who met her and had she seen her Mother in those two hours preceding her own death?

“Who’s all there, Mom?

Everybody.

“Do you get to see all of our relatives everyday?”

“What’s it like?”

“Do you know any good lottery numbers?”

“Aw, c’mon, Mom! You’d ask the same thing of me!”

And she’d laugh.

I have these conversations when time is quiet. I wonder even as I’m “talking” to her, if she is shining a little brighter? My thoughts run together so often, and then I wonder if, every person I had thought of during my conversation with her, has lit up? Their spirits shining because someone back here was remembering them for a moment. If they are all together, do other Spirits walk by and say…..”There’s that Coyle bunch again…..all lit up!” I imagine LAUGHTER aplenty there. I imagine, her sitting and waiting, for me to sleep, so she can visit me.

There are moments, that rocking chairs rock on their own; dogs run in to meet the person that just came through the door, although no one has; there are moments when a shadow makes you wonder if your eyes are playing tricks on you. There are moments that you can smell the perfume of your Mother fill a room, in the middle of the night.

At times, there are moments when you awake in the middle of the night reaching for her outstretched hand, and realize, it had all been a dream.

I have no true idea what’s true and what’s not. I only know, that I hope for those visits, those conversations, those moments of quiet, when I can hear her answering me back, in my mind.

I talk to her out of my own need. I tell her things and then contradict myself by telling her she would already know all of this. Then there are the moments that, one simple conversation starts to her, and I continue it as long as I can, in hope that she shines brighter than all others around her, so they all know how much she is missed and loved and being remembered. I want her to shine bright for Heaven to see, as she did during her life with us. She is my constant, still~With my Dad in 2004....

In September, 2002, my Mom and Dad treated Eddie, Andrew, Alyssa and I to a cruise on the Disney Cruise ship. We flew into Orlando for free since I still was flying and rented a car to take us to Cape Canaveral to board that ship. Eddie, Alyssa and I had gone one a day earlier than Mom, Ron, & Andrew, as sometimes it worked best to separate our party, in order to fly stand by.

Somehow, despite careful planning, Aaron was conceived on that trip. He was our little souvenir.

My pregnancy with Aaron went fairly smooth. None of my pregnancies ever produced much morning sickness, as some Mom’s to be experience. As I was told, my pregnancy was considered high risk, as I was over 35 at the time, and toward the end of my pregnancy, I would go through weekly visits to put my unborn child through stress tests.

I started my pre-natal visits, and by our guess, Aaron would be due around June 6th, 2003. They did all the measurements through ultrasound and because of my age, I was lucky enough to see him throughout the pregnancy. I declined the amnio, as honestly, it scared me more than thought of anything being wrong with my child.

When I was around 4 months pregnant, I had another ultrasound, and the technician performing the ultrasound made a noise, something like……“Hmmmmm”. I asked what she meant by that, and she stated that the baby’s kidneys were a bit too large for his gestational age. (And) What does that mean, I asked her. “Simply put, it’s a characteristic of Down’s Syndrome.”

I left the hospital, full of information, armed with it. I went to the only place I knew I’d find understanding……to Mom’s. Just 33 years earlier, the doctor’s had told her my younger brother would most likely be a “water head baby”, a.k.a.: Down’s Syndrome. Here I was, going through the exact same thing she had suffered through, throughout HER own pregnancy. When I told her the news, she watched my face for a long while. I explained, it didn’t matter to me, if the baby was not normal. It no longer mattered if he’d be handicapped. And she knew, I was telling the truth. I’d already felt him turn inside me, and surely the biggest turning point in any pregnancy is the moment you feel that child flutter. Mom promised me she’d be with me, through thick and thin, and it didn’t need to be said. I already knew that.

When I delivered the news to Eddie, he took it much harder. All the things this child would never learn, he worried. The fears all parents have of your own child getting picked on in school, were multiplied by his thought that his handicapped child may have to endure. I eased his thoughts as much as I could. I promised him, this child would always love us, like a little one loves their parents, until friends come along. But nonetheless, the cloud was hanging above our heads.

About a month later, I went in to confirm the sex of this baby. I asked Eddie to come along, thinking, he’d be completely enthralled as I would, hearing the sex of our unborn child. Alyssa tagged along with us, carrying coloring books and a doll, we hoped would occupy her as Eddie and I watched the screen. Alyssa ended up being completely and utterly bored with the doctor’s office, her coloring book, and even lost interest in her doll. She engaged Eddie in trying conversation, to the point, any interest he HAD in the ultrasound, was lost to distraction.

He’d look up whenever I’d point out a leg, or an arm, but I know now, he couldn’t recognize anything I was pointing out to him. It was just a blob on a monitor, as far as he was concerned and thinking about it now, he would have preferred coloring the pages of My Little Pony, over being stuck in that exam room with me.

As the nurse talked of looking for signs of what the baby was, I waited and waited. I knew what to look for, Eddie didn’t. She maneuvered the arm of the ultrasound around on my belly, pushing at the same time, trying to make the baby change positions.

I tried to get Eddie to concentrate on the task at hand, but Alyssa was talking non-stop to him and he was exasperated.

“Oh, wait……I see something……Do you want to know the sex of the baby?”

“Eddie! She going to tell us what the baby is!”, I exclaimed, trying to hold his attention to the monitor.

He looked at me with that look I have grown to understand over the years, to mean…..You gotta be kiddin’ me…..Alyssa was relentless with her questions, and you could never dissuade her from talking.

I looked back at the ultrasound machine, and saw the little outline of a light bulb. I then knew, it was a boy. It was what I had hoped and prayed for, as Eddie has 2 daughters from his first marriage, and he and I had Alyssa together. He had no real sons, except for his stepson, Andrew.

As the ultrasound technician confirmed what Isaw, she stated, “There they are, testicles!”

I looked at Eddie and he seemed completely void of emotion. Maybe I had set myself up for some sort of epiphany, some sort of moment full of happy tears. He just looked at the machine and I looked at him and Alyssa kept talking about Little Ponies and Teletubbies. It was completely, surreal.

She printed out those little pictures of the baby, with arrows pointing to his head, to his leg, to his genitals, with the word PENIS boldly marking the spot.

As we walked to the car, I realized I had been saying the words nonstop. “You got your boy, Eddie….you got your boy!” Still nothing.

We buckled Alyssa into her car seat, and for whatever reason, we just sat there in the parking lot of the hospital. I looked at Eddie and said, “I thought you’d be so happy that you’ll have a boy to teach baseball to!” And that’s when he explained his utter defiance to my joy.

Somehow, through all the talking…..between Alyssa and Eddie, the technician and myself, he never heard the words. He never heard specifically “testicles”…..somehow, he heard OVARIES. He was having another girl. Despite our continued talking in front of him of the BOY we were going to welcome into the world in a few months, all he heard was OVARIES. Girl. Ovaries. Girl.

Once it all sank in for him, the tears began. He thanked me over and over for giving him a boy. I didn’t have the heart to tell him, I had nothing to do with it. I let him believe I was the queen of sex determination in babies. And he thanked me more, and called everyone he could.

Tests throughout the pregnancy kept leaning toward Down’s Syndrome. Major organs were either too big or too small for a healthy child. We lived the remaining months in quiet fear, and knowing we would still love this little boy more than anything in the world.

On April 30, my Dad’s birthday, we took him to Ruby Tuesday’s to celebrate his day. Something felt odd and after excusing myself to the bathroom, I realized my mucus plug had separated. I returned to the table and Mom asked if all was okay and I relayed the information to her. We thought, I’d have the baby that weekend.

My appointments were weekly by this time, and I was having weekly ultrasounds and the stress test on the baby. If by chance, you have never had this done, they basically set a vibrator on your tummy and a loud humming noise scares the living crap out of your child, in order to get the heart rate up. Cruel~I tell ya.

My OB saw me and confirmed that I had dilated to 5 cm, and we readied ourselves for imminent delivery. Due to the projected weight of Aaron, instead of letting me go through the end of my pregnancy to June 6th, they planned to induce me on May 20th. The baby would come 17 days early.

Every day came and went with me dilated. I finally showed up at 6AM to the hospital to be induced. Once I was settled in my room, the nurse that would be with me all day explained that my doctor wanted me to hold out as long as I could without an epidural.

I balked! But I listened, thinking, I was already having contractions and holding my own.

I kept tabs on another girl that my doctor was delivering on that day, asking her progress with or without drugs. When my nurse came in and told me she was dilated to 3cm and begging for her epidural, I told the nurse to tell her, she couldn’t have one, until I could have one.

I was dilated to 8cm by this time, in heavy contractions, and no pain drugs. Finally, when the nurse said, the other girl had her epidural and was much happier, I looked at her and asked…..”What about me?” She stated: All you had to do was ask. I could have thrown the bed pan at her.

My epidural came when I hit 9cm. Hard labor was hitting me, and I started rocking myself endlessly in the bed. This is the point all mom’s start to go a bit nuts. The pain was unbearable. The epidural wasn’t helping. I looked at Mom, and begged her to take me to the bathroom.

“I gotta go Mom. Please help me up!”. She just stared at me. I couldn’t hold it any longer. I couldn’t wait for her to take me to the toilet. And I pushed. And pushed. And pushed.

Suddenly, Mom went into gear. She left the room, and I could hear her talking very loudly as she walked down the hallway, to call the doctor NOW…….SHE’S STARTED TO PUSH.

Yeah, how many babies does a girl have to have before she remembers, that need to go potty, is indeed that last stages of labor? Obviously, I had completely forgotten. I truly thought I’d lay in the bed and make a huge mess.

My doctor arrived just in time, to help me get Aaron into this world. I watched Eddie pace nervously back and forth. I’d push several times, stop and breathe, ask if he was okay. I’d eye Mom and she knew what I was thinking. I was afraid he’d pass out. The sight of blood does that to him.

I watched Aaron’s head peak through and ascend backinto me, as the pushing stopped. I was exhausted and quite finished with his turtle heading. Dr. T told me to take a break, but my determination kicked in and I stated, “NO, I want him out.”

I pushed with all my might. I thought he was ripping me up to my belly button. He was stuck. Dr. T started working in a frenzy. I could feel her cutting me, over and over, through the layers of my skin. Eddie paced faster and faster, rubbing his forehead all the while. Mom watched me, intently, and I could see the blood flowing from me, in great amounts. Dr. T was in over drive, and I was pushing my hardest, when finally, his head popped through, blue.

Words of encouragement were thrown at me. Mom said, “That’s an 11 pound baby for sure!“ and Dr T. stated, “If not 12 pounds, he’s huge”. I looked to Eddie and he watched horrified. I could see every thought in the lines of his face. He was scared.

I pushed once more, and Aaron was out. He was blue. They put him on me, while Dr. T tried to convince Eddie to cut the cord. Eddie, back and forth, back and forth, until he finally turned to cut the cord, just to shut her up. He couldn’t look, but he couldn’t not look.

I was in a state of……”all is well”. I held Aaron on my belly and rubbed my knuckles against his blue skin, telling him to wake up……”Wake up baby, wake up…..It’s your birthday, baby…….wake up for Mommy”.

The pacing never stopped until about a minute later, when Aaron took his first breath and screamed to us.

“There ya go, baby……I knew you wanted to wake up”, I whispered in his ear. MY son was here.

The next day, 3 different pediatricians came to look Aaron over. They tested his hearing, took his picture, and took blood. No one would give me any answers. My questions went ignored when I asked if they thought my baby had Down’s Syndrome.

Finally, my nurse from the day before came in to check on me and Aaron. I asked her the same question….

“Kathy, do you think he has Down’s? I won’t hold you responsible if you are wrong. I just want an opinion and no one will give me one”.

“Angel, there’s nothing wrong with that baby.”

And that’s all I needed. I’d managed to give birth to a healthy 11 pound 3.2 ounce bouncing baby boy.

Today he turns 5 years old. It’s hard to believe that 5 years have passed this quickly, and at the same time, remembering the days before and the day of his birth, are like recounting a memory from yesterday.

Happy Birthday to my Aaron Edward! Mom loves you more than you’ll ever know.