Noah 11/30/2025

  The writing bug hasn’t hit me in quite some time. I’ve felt the itch now and again but finding the time is another thing right now…homeschool, chickens, dogs, reselling, karate, and horse riding lessons all keep my time pretty wrapped up.  Today though Noah deserves a moment of my time, some reflection of the past written down in memory of him. I think about him often… every day.  It has been eight years since the day he died; he would be seven years old if he had survived and made it to his due date.  Guilt, anger and acceptance come at me in waves. If only I had fully trusted my intuition.  If only I had advocated for myself and my baby just a little bit harder. If only the doctor had been more thorough, if only I hadn’t been such a good patient. If only… If only.  Would it have made a difference? Probably not, but I’ll never know.  I’ve learned since then to not be a good patient; I’ve learned to trust my intuition.  What would have happened if he lived? Would the truth about my ex have ever come out? Would I still be living a lie?

   My ex left me to walk in the hospital alone; I don’t think he fully believed there was a problem.  He took the girls home while I sat alone and in pain in an ER full of laughing and joking nurses. When I finally called to let him know I was hemorrhaging he went to the furthest possible relative's house, it took him hours to get to me. There was no real concern.  During the recovery weeks, I was passing in and out of consciousness on the couch and was never taken in to get medical care.  I was in no shape to think for myself, and I was not cared for or loved. I thought he cared but his actions proved otherwise.  Looking back now, I can see that I wasn’t.  Unfortunately, I have had similar experiences with my husband now that I compare too.  He has never once let me feel unimportant or unloved. Seeing his love and concern and realizing how little I mattered before is healing but also opens up new wounds. I can now see how badly I was treated in my first marriage.  My husband has rushed me to the hospital, and he has stayed by my side, nurses looked after my girls in the ER.  They were cared for just not by a family member. Which opens up another layer of wounds when I realize that my girls were left with a family that was not safe.  The sexual abuse and the evil that went on under the surface of a conservative Christian family will haunt me forever. I thought they were in good hands; I thought they were cared for, but now I’ll always know they were being groomed, whether it was as enablers or as victims I know they would have continued in that cycle of abuse.   Where would Noah be in all of this?. If the sexual abuse came to light as I held a newborn and sank under the weight of the responsibility of 4 babies 5 and under, would I have handled it differently?    Noah woke me up to pain. Pain I never thought possible. He woke me up to the evil in this world.  If not for him, I can’t say for sure that I would have had the strength to leave that next summer.  

    All this is messy, all of this hurts. I wrestle with it, and I surrender it to God and then another wave hits and I have to work through it all over again. Forgiveness is hard, wanting revenge is easy.  God works in His time and I’m learning to accept that. 

     All of these thoughts and questions go through my head often.  Especially on days like today where I miss my baby with every breath.  I can still see him, clear as day, holding him and wishing it was all a bad dream.  I catch myself wondering what he would have looked like. How would he get along with his sisters?   What would life look like today with him in it?   Greif, pain, forgiveness and joy are all competing for the leading emotion… especially in the holiday season.