It was July of 2014 when
we had a beautiful honeymoon trip to the hills and nature of Gatlinburg,
Tennessee! Our 3 year marriage anniversary, and 6 years total! This is where
our planned pregnancy was conceived. Yes, Planned. July 23rd, and the results are
in- we are pregnant! We sure hope it’s a girl! 6 weeks later, the beauty was
interrupted my unwavering nausea, waling headaches, and endless amounts of
medication to control every symptom of morning sickness known to man. It was
then that our obstetrician opted for a fetal scan for a multiples pregnancy.
Yeah, right. We had always joked about the possibility of having twins, but
never really named it a reality.
And here we are, they see what seems like
maybe two heartbeats? But surely it couldn’t be twins… One nurse comes in, the
next nurse comes in. My lady parts have been on full display with a poking rod
visually inspecting every corner of my uterus for the past 20 minutes after 5
hours of waiting (literally)….and here we are. “We’ve never seen twins this
close together!” ..Twins.. We are having… Twins. When we originally found out
we were having twins, I was so angry with God. I didn’t want twins. I was still
scared that I could not love one child as much as Camdyn, and now two!? It was
too early to be able to detect any sort of divide in the amniotic sacs, so 6
days later we returned… Mono-amniotic twins.
We were sort of rushed out of the
doctor’s office, as they were very busy at the time. I grew concerned over the
“closeness” comment, and the fact they were puzzled looking at the screen and
only based on my research did I know that they were mono-amniotic. Why weren’t
these doctors telling me? And why do I feel as if there is something much
larger that they are not sure of? With no further expressed concern, I opted
for a 2nd opinion and they got us in THAT day. After maybe all of 5 seconds of
the uterus-poking-rod being inserted it was confirmed. What we thought may have
been our worst fear, was confirmed.
When we originally found out we were having
twins, I was so angry with God. I didn’t want twins. I was still scared that I
could not love one child as much as Camdyn, and now two!? We were finally
adjusting that we were having twins, and the excitement of the love that they
were going to bring to our family, was going to be far beyond measure. Our
twins failed to separate, and they are….conjoined. My thoughts…”Like Siamese
twins?” I sure nailed it.
We were informed that sometimes the ultrasound techs
get “gun-shy” and they are too unsure on how to relay the news, so they don’t.
In this case, I could have not been more thankful for the honesty and
compassion in our techs voice and actions. As she walked out of the room to get
our nurse, I looked over and saw tears fill my husband’s eyes. He turned red as
if he may explode from trying to hold in a sobbing cry similar to mine. My
brain turned into some sort of 1,000 question marquee with every one of them
quickly scrolling through my mind’s eye. An overwhelming amount of information,
that resulted in a secluded, and blank stare at the wall blurred through the
tears as I was trying to gather an internal list of questions I never thought I
would have to ask or know the answer to. We met with the doctor, and stumbled
over our noses our faces were so far buried in the ground to disguise some
amount of discomfort and pain, allowing the tears to hit the floor rather than
stream down our faces. We again, thanked another person for their answers, and
were on to our next set of appointments.
The days went by endlessly, and
mindlessly. Like a daze, and zombie effect that couldn’t have been any louder,
and less controlled. My immediate reaction after the shock was zeroing in was
the logical end of survival. The one that tells me that I am going to have to
quit school, and quit my job to take care of them properly, and that I couldn’t
place the trust in others to do so. How was I going to sacrifice everything in
my life to only allow two babies as one ONLY live? They would ONLY sustain
life, they would never be able to live it. And what does this do to Camdyn? I
didn’t want to make this kind of decision, but at that point in time abortion
DID cross my mind! I have a child HERE I have to think about. I cannot
sacrifice him along with everything else—But isn’t that what we do as parents?
Isn’t THAT what I signed up for? We were sent to several high risk doctors that
would tell us our options were to maintain the pregnancy, or not- but no
sensible answers as to what would have been morally or physically correct. No
one could have taken on that kind of liability. We discovered in the
appointment that the twins were conjoined in a way that they could share heart
chambers, they could be fused at the head, and they could also share numerous
internal organs. They would not be able to determine the full anatomy or
likelihood of survival completely until they were at least 21 weeks or so
gestation which was after our time frame to terminate. In the state of Indiana,
you can only terminate up until 20 weeks. We wanted to keep our options open,
even though my underlying faith says “termination is abortion! It is murder!”
How could I even consider killing the babies that I PLANNED for? Our twins at
that point in time, had less than a 1% chance of surviving delivery, and no
chance of survival once they were out of the womb- we were told. Basically how
it was said “These twins are not conjoined in a way where you see them
successfully surviving or being separated on Dr. Oz or Television programs.” We
were also told that the cesarean to remove this set of conjoined twins would be
traumatizing to my body and that the potential was very high that the scarring
would not allow us any more children. So here I am. I am going to have twins
that will die….. And I may not have any children after to fill this void,
knowing how great it will be.
Wow. And here I am again… Do I risk it all and
birth them, only to say goodbye? To hold them in my arms and watch as they slowly
drift away into a slumber, knowing all too well I will forever have to live
with the image engrained in every ounce of my being…of them in my arms. Dead. I
get the saying that people use that a fetus means as much to the world, as
let’s say your physical child does… It is not true for me, and I can nearly say
this as for all who would experience the tribulation. At the point that I knew
that they would not live, I could no longer fathom the thought of trying to
bond with them knowing their fate, and potentially mine too (The pregnancy and
delivery could have been fatal- low potential, but still there) We knew we had
to make a decision, and I have never been so tormented. So humiliated, angered,
embarrassed, terrified, and anguished. I was desperate for hope that I couldn’t
find. Amidst this, a story broke about a family who had a bucket list for their
child who they knew would not survive and how greatly I admired their bravery,
but could not compare the situation as terribly as Satan was encouraging me to.
She could birth her child and have another if she so chose to…Our potential may
not have been there.
Today I choose to tell
you my journey about an early delivery. You call it abortion, termination, or
murder! An at times, I did too until I lived it. I lived it, until I called it
compassion. I loved them so much, I didn’t want them to experience the pain and
fate that was ahead of them. I wanted them to go peacefully even if that meant
that I had to endure the pain. Yes, I did. The pain of regret, and remorse even
though I know I made the correct decision for them. I didn’t think that God
could forgive me for what I had done, even though every compassionate and Godly
part of my body told me it HAD to be! We chose early delivery for our pregnancy
because we knew our precious girls could never live. I couldn’t handle holding
them and burying them…Yes, I so vividly hear the echoes saying “Well isn’t that
what you did anyway?” I did choose a burial service for the girls following our
“early delivery”, and I did hold their remains before they were buried…But
regardless of what anyone says, it was NOT the same as if I had held them in my
arms alive before as a fully formed child. Emotionally, it was not the same.
For me, and my family of three anyhow. We kissed them, we held them, and we
spoke with them just as you would. We told them hello, before we had to tell
them goodbye.
You have these precious moments, minutes-- maybe even seconds of
life before you and they are gone. I didn't want to share them, and I didn't
want a family member to have to live with if they were in the room when it
happened either! So much of this world sees this as a cowardly decision, and so
much of me thought it was too, until I had to make it. I can tell you that
having birthed them would have been much easier of a decision, than what I had
to endure --so that I didn’t have to see them in pain. It is undeniably selfish
for me, but in that EXACT same token, I know God didn’t want pain for them and
God gave me compassion. I still live in the pain every day of what if, or act
like I had a choice when in all reality… I didn’t. I am PRO-LIFE…NOT pro-birth
in my particular situation.
If birthing my child, only to watch it die makes me
the perfect parent, then maybe that is what I should have done to avoid your,
or anyone else’s invalid judgment. If parents find comfort in doing so, then I
fully understand your decision and am not there to judge them the same way I
beg them not to judge me. My experience of days of having luminaria (a dried seaweed
used to absorb fluid in your cervix) knowing what I was slowly doing. I was
slowly preparing for an abortion. To kill the children that I had begged God
for. There were days I would plead to God to take them before I had to.
And
here I am again. Alone. All alone in this procedure room.
Naked.
Vulnerable.
Having this seaweed inserted to slowly drain the life from my children which I
chose... I opted to pay for a surgical procedure. I chose this option, because
I wanted NO recollection of the surgery, to hear any of the sounds, or forever
be traumatized by the sights that would be involved in the process. I walked,
bare naked, into an operating room… Hoisted myself up on the operating table to
have my gown removed and exposed to the world.
*Here I am world, naked and a
murderer with 12+ people in the room knowing what I am doing!*
I am not a fan
of nakedness at all, and it makes me terrified the thought alone. I am in here,
with the children my husband and I so willingly created, and I had to do this alone.
(They would not let my husband back because we had Camdyn [2 year old son]
because we couldn’t find anyone to watch him during the procedure) The emotions
that take over, I began to shake.. I was so cold. I was so scared. All I wanted
was to HAVE my babies, but I couldn’t. Trembling, crying, and not being able to
look at anyone in the room for fear of judgment. I began to shake so terribly,
my heart was pounding with every breath I couldn’t catch through my cries…. And
then, I was awakened. I felt a shake and heard “It’s all over, you are in your
recovery room, Chelsea” and before my eyes even opened to see daylight they
welled full of tears, and I began to scream. The type of scream I would only
relentlessly let out in a case of torture or beating… But isn’t that what this
is?
That is exactly what this pain feels like. The internal, and emotional
pain. What had I just done? I went to sleep with my babies in a beautiful, and
seamless slumber inside, and now they are gone. Forever, and it is all my fault.
How am I going to live with this? Everything reminded me of that day, and the
days leading up to it. The decision that we had to fearfully, and yet so
bravely make. Kind of contradictory, isn’t it? In the days following my
procedure, I soberly knitted a casket blanket to hold my babies forever, like I
wished so terribly I could have done. I made a wreath with ribbons for
“Daughter, Sister” and submitted our obituaries. I wanted to give them the
respect they deserved and the honor they would have never had to earn! I bought
a onesie, that they both would have worn to go home, together. My intentions
were to place their remains in this onesie knitted together forever. Upon
arrival of the funeral home, the person up front had mentioned that their
remains were not yet placed in the casket. At the time, I assumed this meant
raw remains.
I was recommended the night before by the director, not to review
the remains as it would not be steadfast in the healing process. At that
moment, I so undesirably volunteered to do so because I so desperately needed
to tell them hello, before I had to tell them goodbye. I looked at the small
container covered with pink tulle and ran out to grab my husband so that he can
hold his sense of closure in his hands. He needed to do the same, and we needed
to do this as a family. As we stood in front of the 15 roses, and the 15
carnations all in pink…the child size casket.. and a beautiful flower
arrangement that couldn’t have compared to their beauty we made our final
hello’s and goodbyes. We kissed the beautiful container, which even yet was
another reminder with my hospital sticker attached to the side so beautifully
wrapped in attempt to hide the gruesome contents inside, which was the cold
hard, image of my choices and they laid it my blood. At that moment, It wasn’t
until almost two weeks later that I realized that it wasn’t my blood they were
laying in… It was their own.
Some days, I can’t live with that image… and
others, I think that it was easier than living with the image of them dying in
my arms. It's terrifying to share this experience with anyone, but it gets
easier, and helps us emotionally sometimes to retype, and relive the moment to
gather the same assurance that God had laid a windy road for me with numerous
forks, but somehow I feel we prevailed.
Our faith in the depths of the darkest
valleys, let us to a mountaintop that only had one path up. At the top of this
mountaintop we found Christ. We found beauty and a new faith in the ways of
this world, and our every blessing is accounted for. Today, I shared with you
my journey on early delivery. Today, I ask you not to judge my situation but to
show compassion to myself and others just as God has shown to us. I know God
will know the beauty and compassion in my heart and tell his child that all
decisions made through Christ, are magical. My two babies lay in the hands of
God and I will spend the rest of my life on this physical earth making sure
that I meet them again!
I hope that the fear of condemnation does not so
greatly affect the others who are put in such a terrible position that they
cannot find any sense of gravity. I could not find help or hope, because I was
too scared of the opinions. PLEASE, seek opinions. Medical and Professional and
don’t stop until God tells you to! Trust in him, and all the decisions you make
WITH christ, will guide you to acceptance. Let me phrase that again, will GUIDE
you to acceptance- but will not declare you acceptance.
Love, The Burrell that
Believes
