Being an Adult.
How odd to become so much of an adult in a year.
After my house’s birthday yesterday, I thought about how much had transpired in the last 12 months. How much of an “adult” I had to become.
When we started the home buying process, everyone at work kept making the comments that now I was an adult. Having the responsibility of owning your own home comes with the title of being an adult. After we bought the house, Shannon and I prepared the house for our children we were to have. We painted the “baby’s room” and started collecting baby items. We worked to organize, clean, and make our house a beautiful, inviting home.
Then comes October. My Dr. tells us that he can’t help us anymore and we need to see the specialist. I’ve written about this several times…we couldn’t afford the specialist and mentally we couldn’t deal with the emotional stress of not being able to conceive. I had to become more of an adult and accept the fact that I may never be a mother.
Then comes February 24th. I didn’t hear from my husband for hours, so I called his best friend to see where they were. He muttered the words I dreaded hearing “we’re at the emergency room, he’s sick again…with the pancreatitis”. Initially I thought that it was a mild case and that Shannon would get better quick and then be on the way home, but as February 25th rolled around, I knew that wasn’t the case. As I walked into his ICU room I knew something was oddly worse about this particular case. He was breathing so rapidly and looked extremely disoriented. He never even realized I was there with him. Eventually he lost consciousness and they felt like putting him on a ventilator would protect his body from just giving out.
Each day we waited, we prayed. Each Dr. consultation we were given hope and then given worse news. He had developed a serious complication called DIC, which I later read on Wikipedia is nicknamed, “Death is Coming”. I sat in his room on Thursday, encouraged by the fact that he seemed to be getting better, when all of the sudden the dialysis nurse looked at the other nurse and said “why is his blood pressure going up so fast?” It was approximately 350/200 and within seconds it was 70/20. I was watching the beginning of the end. After they had stabilized him, I walked into the room and knew that my husband was gone. I could look at him and tell that he was with the Lord. The first thought I had was “to be absent from the body is to be present with the Lord”. All I saw was the shell of a great life that was lived and was now slowly dying.
When the Dr came in for that final consult I knew at that moment I was once again becoming an adult. My husband had bled into his brain and he was essentially dead. The machines were keeping him alive. How odd to be in a room hearing these harsh truths, and yet being comforted by a great peace. The peace of God. I rushed out of the consult room and went into Shannon’s room, shut the curtain and just began to thank God for the life we had together and for the person Shannon had become and for the husband he had been to me.
My husband died with me hugging him and kissing his face. Up until this point, I have not talked about how he died. He died in my arms with me trying to remember every smell and every feeling of his face. His ears, his nose, his mouth, his eyebrow. Trying to remember every minute detail of his face. I remember watching the machines as his vital signs slowly went down. I remember the minute that his heart rate clicked to 0 and his blood pressure stopped. I remember looking at him and thanking God that I knew where my husband was at that moment.
I walked out of that room an adult. A Widow at 25. A Barren Widow at 25.
More adult decisions – funeral arrangements, legal hassles, death certificates.
So here I am desperately clinging to the hope of a life restored. Shannon always talked about how much like Job he was. Losing everything but still clinging to God. I feel like Job. It feels like I have lost it all and been tried. I feel like God has said “this is my servant Sarah, she has been found righteous…go ahead throw what you have at her”. I have lost my children, my husband, my life. But I refuse to not praise God. I refuse to look at this situation and indulge in self-pity. I will stand and fight. Because I know that I have a God that has promised that the things I considered lost, He will restore.
So I stand at this crossroads of life. A Barren, 25 year old Widow. All I can do is cling tight to the promises of God…
After my house’s birthday yesterday, I thought about how much had transpired in the last 12 months. How much of an “adult” I had to become.
When we started the home buying process, everyone at work kept making the comments that now I was an adult. Having the responsibility of owning your own home comes with the title of being an adult. After we bought the house, Shannon and I prepared the house for our children we were to have. We painted the “baby’s room” and started collecting baby items. We worked to organize, clean, and make our house a beautiful, inviting home.
Then comes October. My Dr. tells us that he can’t help us anymore and we need to see the specialist. I’ve written about this several times…we couldn’t afford the specialist and mentally we couldn’t deal with the emotional stress of not being able to conceive. I had to become more of an adult and accept the fact that I may never be a mother.
Then comes February 24th. I didn’t hear from my husband for hours, so I called his best friend to see where they were. He muttered the words I dreaded hearing “we’re at the emergency room, he’s sick again…with the pancreatitis”. Initially I thought that it was a mild case and that Shannon would get better quick and then be on the way home, but as February 25th rolled around, I knew that wasn’t the case. As I walked into his ICU room I knew something was oddly worse about this particular case. He was breathing so rapidly and looked extremely disoriented. He never even realized I was there with him. Eventually he lost consciousness and they felt like putting him on a ventilator would protect his body from just giving out.
Each day we waited, we prayed. Each Dr. consultation we were given hope and then given worse news. He had developed a serious complication called DIC, which I later read on Wikipedia is nicknamed, “Death is Coming”. I sat in his room on Thursday, encouraged by the fact that he seemed to be getting better, when all of the sudden the dialysis nurse looked at the other nurse and said “why is his blood pressure going up so fast?” It was approximately 350/200 and within seconds it was 70/20. I was watching the beginning of the end. After they had stabilized him, I walked into the room and knew that my husband was gone. I could look at him and tell that he was with the Lord. The first thought I had was “to be absent from the body is to be present with the Lord”. All I saw was the shell of a great life that was lived and was now slowly dying.
When the Dr came in for that final consult I knew at that moment I was once again becoming an adult. My husband had bled into his brain and he was essentially dead. The machines were keeping him alive. How odd to be in a room hearing these harsh truths, and yet being comforted by a great peace. The peace of God. I rushed out of the consult room and went into Shannon’s room, shut the curtain and just began to thank God for the life we had together and for the person Shannon had become and for the husband he had been to me.
My husband died with me hugging him and kissing his face. Up until this point, I have not talked about how he died. He died in my arms with me trying to remember every smell and every feeling of his face. His ears, his nose, his mouth, his eyebrow. Trying to remember every minute detail of his face. I remember watching the machines as his vital signs slowly went down. I remember the minute that his heart rate clicked to 0 and his blood pressure stopped. I remember looking at him and thanking God that I knew where my husband was at that moment.
I walked out of that room an adult. A Widow at 25. A Barren Widow at 25.
More adult decisions – funeral arrangements, legal hassles, death certificates.
So here I am desperately clinging to the hope of a life restored. Shannon always talked about how much like Job he was. Losing everything but still clinging to God. I feel like Job. It feels like I have lost it all and been tried. I feel like God has said “this is my servant Sarah, she has been found righteous…go ahead throw what you have at her”. I have lost my children, my husband, my life. But I refuse to not praise God. I refuse to look at this situation and indulge in self-pity. I will stand and fight. Because I know that I have a God that has promised that the things I considered lost, He will restore.
So I stand at this crossroads of life. A Barren, 25 year old Widow. All I can do is cling tight to the promises of God…
posted by Sarah W @ 10:24 AM
1 Comments:
At 2:20 PM ,
Kara said...
I love you SARAH!!! I thank God for you and Shannon what what you both have done in our lives.
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