Aria Sue

 Of  my 3 children, all three birth experiences have been incredibly different. When Jonathan was born, I was induced at 37 1/2 weeks because my blood pressure was elevated. He was trying to push himself out and was in distress, so they ended up doing a c-section. He spent a few days in the NICU due to fluid in his lungs, but he was a good size and just needed a tiny bit of extra attention at first. Peyton was, by far, the easiest. She was born at just under 40 weeks... a repeat c-section that was scheduled. I got to do immediate skin to skin with her in the OR. She stayed in my hospital room with me, and we went home after 2 days, together. 

I knew from day 1 that #3 was going to be significantly different. I went to my first appointment with my dr and my blood pressure was 160/100. Due to my blood pressure and other physical circumstances surrounding my medical history, my dr was not comfortable going through with being my doctor. She referred me to a high risk doctor that could monitor everything I needed monitored. Over the next few months, my blood pressure was consistently high and gradually would increase. In January, they finally got me up to my max dose of my BP medicine...2400 mg/day...plus baby aspirin, one other BP pill, 2 iron pills a day, and my prenatal. I felt like a walking pharmacy, but I was doing what I had to for "Baby Bob." 

On February 22nd, I went back to work after having a week at home due to the stores being closed because of our winter storm in Texas. I felt okay. Simply tired and sore, but chalked it up to being 34 weeks pregnant and feeling gigantic. My feet and hands were swollen to the point that they hurt, and I couldn't even make a fist with my hands. I was sitting at my desk (It was Monday, so Admin day...no, I was not running around like someone asked me a few days later). Anyway, I was sitting at my desk and I felt something like a small leak. I didn't think anything of it. About 2 minutes later, I felt a gush of liquid. For the ladies, (TMI, sorry), you know how it feels when you have your period and you get a large gush of blood... that's what it felt like. So I immediately got up and went to the bathroom. I sat down and my underwear and pad (I was wearing one for uncomfortable leaks) were completely soaked in blood. I immediately started crying. I went back out and was sobbing as I mumbled something to my supervisor about leaving because I was bleeding. He immediately came into the back with me and called his mom, who was a L&D nurse. She told him to hang up and call 911. He called 911 as I called Jonathan. My mom called me and told me that everything would be fine. Within a few minutes, the paramedics were there. The next half hour or so was a bit of a blur. They got me onto a stretcher in the lobby, and got me loaded into the ambulance. I remember the paramedic telling me that we had the same due date when she asked me what mine was. March 31st. In the ambulance, my blood pressure was 196/110. 

I cried the whole way to the hospital. They took me to L&D when we got there. Jonathan was able to get there shortly after I got there. They consistently checked my blood pressure, and they found the babies heartbeat for me. My BP was consistently elevated...the highest I remember it getting was 225/106. They did an ultrasound and found that my placenta had detached from my uterine wall...a placental abruption. The nurse started to prepare me for the fact that I would probably be having my baby that day. My bleeding had started to slow down a bit, but had never stopped. They eventually moved me to an actual room in L&D. When I got there, the nurse let me go to the bathroom. I went pee, and when I stood back up, everything was fuzzy, my head was spinning, and I looked down and there was blood on the floor. I sat back down. A minute later, the nurse asked if I was okay. I said that I was dizzy, so she came and got me and helped me get back to my bed. I laid down, and I can remember feeling like there were so many people in the room. There was a nurse that was working on trying to get a good reading on the baby. I can remember laying in the bed, just having tears streaming. I remember hearing the nurse say that the baby's heart rate was at 70. 

After hearing that, it seemed like even more people came into the room, and my bed was moving. I was being rushed to the OR. The OR was bright and I was crying. Everyone around me was moving so fast, and I was terrified. The doctor kept saying she was ready to go. The anesthesiologist was behind me, and honestly, the most comforting voice in the room. The last thing I remember hearing was him telling the doctor that I was almost ready. From what I was told later on, the doctor had her out of me in under 2 minutes. 

Aria Sue was born at 34 1/2 weeks...at 4 lbs, 11oz...17.5 inches long. The day I was leaving, my original nurse came to see me. She gave me a hug and said that she was so glad we were both okay. She said that we came very close to losing both of us. 

Its hard to put into writing exactly how I feel. But this was 100% the most traumatic event I've ever experienced. And there has not been a day since that I don't think about it...and theres not a day that hasn't brought tears to my eyes. I know that, in time, the fear that I felt will start to fade away. And memories will start to fade. 

I will say that I am forever thankful for my nurse Melissa. She was with me from the start, and she was absolutely amazing. I am thankful for the rest of the amazing nursing staff, and NICU nurses that took such great care of my sweet girl. I am beyond thankful for the fact that myself and Aria are both here and healthy today. However, don't be surprised if you ask me a question about her birth and I start to cry. It will take time. 

I love you

As we approach the 11 year anniversary of my big brother leaving this Earth, I've decided to post not about just him, but about something I hold close to my heart.

As you're reading this, you may or may not know, that when Justin died, he and I were not in a good place. He and I had been fighting for nearly a month or so, and I was bound and determined to just let it play out. I remember vividly, calling him and yelling at him on his voicemail. I left him a nasty message about how he needed to grow up. He needed to act like an adult and make better choices. Not long after that, he came to stay with my little brother and I for a weekend. I was so mad at him all weekend. I didn't want anything to do with him that weekend, and I made sure he knew it. When I drove him home at the end of the weekend, he gave me a hug, and said he loved me. I mumbled back, "Mmhmm, love you too" half-heartedly. That was the last time I saw him.

I was fed up. I was angry. I was annoyed. But oh boy, was I so angry with him. It wasn't too long after that weekend that Justin was found dead. And my heart broke. Not only from losing him. But because I was still angry at him. I was angry at him for the stupid things he had done that made me mad at him in the first place. I was angry at him for the choices that led to his death. The choices that I knew would eventually lead to his death. That I told him over and over again would lead to his death.

And I was angry at myself. Because I never made things right with him. To this day, I question whether or not he knew I loved him when he died. Did he know how much I cared about him? Did he know that, even though he made me angry, that I adored my big brother?? He made me laugh like no one else could. He gave the best hugs. And deep down, he had the biggest heart of anyone I knew. His decisions just sucked. I have struggled for the last 11 years with this.

Which is why I try my very hardest to not go to bed angry with those that I love and care about the most. Tomorrow is not promised, and you never know what may happen. I have learned how important it is to forgive. To love, and to make sure people know they are loved. I'm not perfect, and sometimes I fail at this. But I try to fix it and make things better. Whenever I'm angry at my kids, we talk about it. We talk about what happened, why it happened. At the end of every angry conversation, I give them a hug and kiss. And I tell them how much I love them. Little Jonathan asks me all the time, "Mommy, do you love me even when I'm naughty?" And I tell him, "I love you ALL the time. There is nothing that could ever make me stop loving you." I need to make sure that they never question whether or not their mama loved them.

So, I'm sorry, big brother. I'm sorry I was so angry with you. I'm sorry if you didn't know I loved you. I forgive you, big brother. I forgive you for everything you put us through. I forgive you for the hurt you caused. I forgive you for the choices you made. And I still love you more than you'll ever know.

<3

10 years...

10 years. It's amazing what can happen in life in 10 years. It goes by faster than one might think. And for me, it's hard to believe its been that long that Justin has been gone. Even after so long, there are still times I expect to get a phone call from him. Or to see his face somewhere. Any time I hear the name Justin, I look up, expecting to see him. Even though in my heart, I know that, of course it would never be him.

10 years ago, I was visiting my (now) husband, Jonathan, down at school. We had our first official Valentine's Day weekend together planned out. I never would have thought that weekend would have come to a crashing halt at 7am on Saturday morning. I can remember the moment like it happened yesterday. We were laying in bed sleeping, and my phone kept ringing. I kept ignoring it. Finally, Jonathan nudged me and told me it was Rick calling me. I answered the phone, and all he said was, "Tasha, you need to come home now." Being the young adult I still was, my response was a snotty, "Why?" He said "Your mom needs you here." and Instantly my heart sank. My mom. There was something wrong with my mom. My mom needed me. I said "Is she okay?" There was a pause that seemed to last forever. And then he said the words that are forever ingrained into my memory, "She found your brother. She found Justin. He's dead."

I don't remember saying anything to him after that. I'm sure I mumbled something about coming home. I got out of bed and started to pack my things. Jonathan kept asking me what was happening, and I broke down. I can remember dropping to the floor like you would see in a movie, and telling him that my brother was dead. And that I knew it. That I had the feeling in my gut earlier that week and that I should have listened to it. And that I had made a joke about it when my mom couldn't get ahold of him. I had shrugged at her and said "maybe he's dead." Who would think something like that was funny?

What many don't know is that Justin and I were not in a good place when he died. Which is why I made such a horrible smartass remark to my mom, just days prior. Justin and I had been fighting, because I told him he was childish, and weak, and needed to grow up and act like a man. We'd been fighting for weeks, and I was so angry with him. And I live with that pain and that struggle. Every. Single. Day. I like to think he knows I said those things out of love, somewhere deep down. But I don't know.

In 10 years, life has brought many changes. And every once in a while, I laugh, because I feel like these things were sent to me, in a way, by my brother. The first thing I think of is my incredible son, Jonathan. We named him Jonathan Justin. I wanted him to have a piece of his uncle, even though he would never know him. And that little boy is the most sensitive, loving, sweet little boy that I have ever known. His personality reminds me so much of Justin, it's crazy. And then just 2 years after that darling boy, my amazing fireball of a daughter was born. And Peyton was brought into this world on December 28th. Which was also Justin's birthday. And she is sassy and funny and hardheaded and she loves to talk. There's a small piece of my brother in both of my children, and it helps ease the pain that I have in my heart a little bit.

Also, more recently, I made a huge change in my own life. I decided to take control of my own health and do something about my weight. I had tried before. But before, I had tried on my own. 10 years ago, at Justin's funeral, there was a girl there that was crying. My mom and I didn't know who she was. My mom went up to her and met her and talked to her. Not too long after, they were friends on Facebook. A little while after this, this girl sent me a friend request. I thought it was odd, but okay. She seemed nice enough, and I generally liked most of my brother's friends. (she says that we met before when I worked at Photo's ;) but it's been so long) 10 years later, and this girl is an amazing friend of mine. She is the one I contacted about helping me with my weight loss journey, and she has been the most amazing coach and friend every step of the way. I've shared exciting moments with her, fears, frustrations, and being sad. And she's there for all of it. 10 years ago, I never thought that crying girl would be such an incredible part of my life. So I thank Justin all the time, for knowing her and for bringing her into my life.

We've all come a long way in the last 10 years. My brothers are all incredible men that have done amazing things in life. I am the proudest sister that I could possibly be. I like to think that I'd be proud of where Justin would be today too. My mom has come a long way in these last 10 years as well. Losing a sibling is hard, but losing a child? That's a different kind of pain that no one should ever have to endure. Some didn't think she would make it through. But my mom is a fighter. It was a rocky road, but she made it to the other side. And 10 years later, she's tough as nails. Though she'd never admit that. My mom is my hero. I've seen her struggle, I've seen the fight. She's a stronger woman and a stronger mom because of what' she's been through. She's incredible. My mom. My hero. The greatest superhero there ever was.

I love you, big brother. I miss you so very much. Every day. There is not a single day that goes by that I don't think of you at least once. It makes me sad cuz I've forgotten what your voice sounds like. And I knew that day would come, but it's hard. I try to bring it up in my mind, and I can't. But I will never forget your hugs. Or your big goofy grins with your gigantic bug eyes. I love you so very much, big brother. I hope you're making everyone laugh up there. Miss you bunches!

Justin C Hall 12/28/83 - 2/16/08

Leave Out All the Rest

When my time comes

Forget the wrong that I've done

Help me leave behind 

Some reason to be missed

And don't resent me 

When you're feeling empty

Keep me in your memory

Leave out all the rest

I quoted this song at my brother's funeral 8 years ago. I still love these words because I know that this is how Justin would want us to remember him. He wouldn't want us to remember bad things about him. He would want us to remember the good things about him--the good things that make us miss him every day. 

I'm taking a page from my little brother's book today and celebrating my brother today instead of mourning him. He's missed terribly, yes. But he's missed because of all the happiness he left behind. Even through anger, hurt, and tears...there was still happiness with him. Because he exuded it. I feel the word "Jolly" describes Justin perfectly. He was goofy. And dorky. And he had these huge bug eyes that made him goofy looking. Haha! But his eyes were mostly full of laughter and smiles.  

And dreams. Justin had so many dreams. He always had something that he had hopes of doing. I was just telling Jonathan yesterday what an awesome cook he was. And how at one point, he was interested in culinary school. I know that he could have achieved any of his dreams if there weren't other factors that took over his mindset. 

He made me laugh like nobody else could. The type of laughter that brought tears to your eyes and made you nearly pee yourself. And he gave the most wonderful hugs. Big, strong, firm bear hugs. He was so tall and had the longest arms, that he could literally wrap you up in his arms and make you feel comforted. I miss those hugs. 

I love remembering happy times and wonderful things about my brother. I love celebrating the person he was. The person that I knew...before the drugs...as a little kid growing up, as my brother, as my friend. I know that everyone has a good memory of him. You have to. At least one, no matter who you are. If you knew Justin, you have a good memory of him. It's been 8 years. Get rid of the negative. Put away the anger and the bad memories. Think of the good. Remember that there's a reason that you think of him. There's a reason you miss him. It's because you remember that there was good. And there was happy. Keep that in your memory. And leave out all the rest. 

Remembering the Good

Seven years. It's incredible how fast time can go by. The pain gets easier to deal with, but I can still feel it some days. There are some days that I relive that morning...I can still remember every detail. It makes my heart ache. I miss my brother every day.

I'm friends with some of his friends on facebook...And it makes me happy. It makes me smile to see how their lives have turned out, and what wonderful people they have turned into. And to see the lives they've created for themselves. And sometimes it makes me sad. Because I wish my brother could have had that. I wish he could have had that future. And that happiness. And it makes me sad because I wonder if they think of him. Do they remember any good? Or is it only bad?

When I think of him, I remember so much good. He made me laugh so hard. All the time. So many times, I laughed so hard that I cried. I have to remind myself to constantly think of the good and the happy. Because every day, I struggle with the fact that I was angry with him when he died. The last conversation that I had with him was a fight. And I have lived with that every day for the past 7 years. I only hope that he knows that I remember the good times. I remember the laughs. And I hope others do too.

I remember coming home my first day of my sophomore year and crying...having such an awful day. And his only goal that afternoon was to make me laugh until I forgot about my bad day. I remember him singing Britney Spears LOUDLY and BADLY on a karaoke machine. I remember waking up one morning to my mom and I finding him sleeping in her bed because "there was too much candy on his bed." (There was nothing there.) I remember him laughing at me and teasing me because I put Dawn dish soap in the dishwasher, and we walked into a kitchen full of bubbles on the floor. I remember his hugs. They were firm and comforting.

I constantly try to think of the good, and the things that made me smile. His big goofy grin, and his gigantic bug eyes. His laugh. His sense of humor.

I would love to know what others remember of him as well. Good memories. If you have them, which I can only hope that you do, even if it's small, please share it here. I would love to read them, and remember more good :)

Love you Big Brother <3 Dec 28, 1983-Feb 16, 2008

Six years gone

Saturday, February 16, 2008. I was down at Illinois State University visiting Jonathan. It was to be our first Valentine's together...and we were having a Valentine's weekend. That morning, around 7AM, Jonathan and I were sleeping, and my phone kept ringing. I ignored it a few times until Jonathan woke me up to tell me that Rick was calling. I answered the phone, and Rick told me that I had to come home. I asked him why. He told me that my mom had found Justin. "Found him where?" I asked. And then he said the two words that I can still hear ringing in my ears. "He's dead." I stumbled over something along the lines of "I'm coming home" before hanging up the phone. I laid in the bed and sobbed for a few minutes while Jonathan tried to understand what was happening. Then I simply got up and started packing my things...all while Jonathan asked me what was happening and what I was doing. I was finally able to get out the words to him that my brother was dead. He refused to let me drive myself home, so we left together. I cried most of the way home...and I cried even more after my brother Phil called. He couldn't get ahold of my mom, and I had to be the one to tell him that Justin was dead. Having to say those words out loud to somebody, and hearing the shock in their voice...it killed me.

Seeing my mom's face when we arrived at the police station...That killed me too. I felt sick. I felt confused. And lost. It didn't feel real. It didn't feel possible that my brother was no longer a part of this world. Sometimes it still feels unreal.

It's 6 years later now. And so much has changed over the past six years. Over those years, Justin has had a niece and two nephews come into this world. His little sister got married, as did his mom. His little sister and little brother graduated from college (Alex will be in May). It makes me sad to think about all the things he has missed in the past six years...and all the things he's going to miss in the future.

Justin died of a drug overdose. And over the past six years, the fact that he died that way has never made me miss him or love him any less. I feel the need to say this due to the high media attention surrounding drug overdoses in celebrities recently. According to some, my brother doesn't deserve to be missed and mourned. But it's clear, I hope, to any that read this, how much I love and care about my brother, regardless of the way that he died. In the end, he was still the boy in the picture with me...Just struggling with an addiction. While I know it's cliche, and some people hate to hear this said...He's in a better place. Because while we wish he was here with us...His better place is anywhere where he is away from his demons. And in this case...that was not here on this earth with his family.

I love you big brother. I think about you every day. I think about your smile. And your laugh. And I think about what a great Uncle you would have been to my son. I miss you every day. And I hope that you're smiling down on all of us.

Letter to My Brother

I would first like to mention, for those that may not know, I lost my brother to a cocaine overdose in February 2008. I wrote the following letter in April 2006, 2 years before he died. I can remember sitting down, writing it, crying, and thinking about how I would feel about losing my brother. It saddens me how much this letter hits the nail pretty much on the head :(
***

I can’t begin to tell you how broken I am right now. I feel as if I’m falling apart and there’s no one there to put the pieces back together again. I always had this fear that I would lose you this way—that one day everything would just go terribly wrong and you’d be gone. I never knew that someday would be now. Throughout our lives, especially as we got older, and as we got closer, there were so many good times. But behind those good times, there were lies. There were lies and betrayal and hurt and anger. I tried to convince myself that because of how close we were, you wouldn’t lie to me. But I was only lying to myself. Too many years before, the drugs had taken over your life. Cocaine was the easy way out. It was a way to deal with everything. It was a way to deal with the fact that you lied about everything It made you stop feeling guilty for those lies and made you feel better. However, it tore me apart. I never knew if I’d see you sober, or if you had just sniffed something. It killed me. I wanted terribly to believe you when you told me you no longer did these things, but I knew deep down that I was telling myself a lie. I knew that you were lying to me. And then that day came. The day that mom called me and told me that I needed to come home. When I got there, I never imagined that she would tell me that my brother had died. An overdose. I stared at her at first, not knowing how to respond, what to say. I could feel the tears burning in my eyes, but they didn’t fall. They couldn’t , for some reason. I felt broken, and as if someone had just crushed my world. I had wanted so badly to help you get away from the drugs. But you wouldn’t take my help. No matter how much I told you that I loved you, it didn’t make  a difference. No matter how much I told you I wanted to help, it didn’t matter. Cocaine had become your family now. I want you to know that I forgive you. I forgive you for all the lies. I forgive you for the addiction that you couldn’t seem to handle. I love you. You’re my brother and I couldn’t imagine my life without you in it. Now I guess I have to. But I love you. Don’t ever forget

                                                            ~Your Sister (April 17, 2006)