Enlightened Reasoning Between the covers of this book, the reader will be taken along on one woman's journey, from poverty through crisis, to loss and rebirth of her faith. Elize Lemieux has gained the courage to share with us the many hills and valleys

Enlightened Reasoning

By Elize Lemieux

AuthorHouse

Copyright © 2012 Elize Lemieux
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4685-7394-7

Chapter One

Here Comes the Bride

"Here comes the bride, all dressed in white": a little girl's fantasy chant.

The innocent, the charmed; no matter the circumstance.

The youthful visionary dances unknowingly in a blind reality.

No need for solace.

No need for fear.

No numbness in ceaselessly wanting to believe in "happily ever after."

No yearning to be cherished in a barren union.

No seeking to quieten the drone of the routine of fruitless living.

No touch of kindness.

No flirtatious playfulness.

No heated passion.

No arms to embrace souls.

No bond of compassion.

No kiss to seal promises.

No white knight, my darling.

Here comes the bride, all dressed in twilight.

APGAR Score of One: A Life Worth Living

September 4th 1991

I would like to tell you about what happened to me twenty years ago today.

It was 2 pm and I was chairing a meeting. Thank goodness for the prepared agenda before me as I was running the meeting by rote. I remember feeling happy earlier that day, as it was the first day I wore maternity clothes – a navy skirt and a fashionable white blouse. I thought I looked pretty hot for a pregnant lady.

The meeting was going well up until that point. I was focused and in command of the agenda at hand.

Then the day took a dramatic shift south. I started to feel low back discomfort that quickly grew into an ache, and then a pain, that I could not ignore. My face went pale and no relief came from shifting my body repeatedly in the chair at the head of the boardroom table.

Thank God the meeting was to be adjourned. I quickly went to my car and proceeded to drive homeward.

I felt as if I were on automatic pilot now.

The pain came in waves and at the height of each wave I felt my abdomen writhe.

I was stuck bumper to bumper on an endless ride home. I could not navigate a different route because my mind was consumed with pain and premonitions of the tragic turn of events that were to follow.

I finally reached the driveway of 1122 Common Road West and could see that the pool closing crew where just leaving. I could not bear to deal with this now and simply excused myself and went inside.

Thank God my children were at home. All I needed at that moment was to see them and hug them and regain my strength and composure in order to deal with what was to come.

No words had to be exchanged. Both children instinctively knew that their mother was suffering and that they needed to rally round. One led me to my bedroom and I was grateful to lie down. He did not leave my side.

The other went to the kitchen, called my husband and told him to come home immediately.

I closed my eyes and rolled from side to side, unable to find a place of rest. I could not even drink a cup of tea or utter the words, "thank you."

My children kissed and hugged me, both with tears in their eyes, as they said their quick goodbyes. I felt some relief in knowing they would be ok while I attempted to face this cruel hand dealt by life.

My husband arrived with a deep look of anxiety, care and fear.

The drive to the hospital was without words but our hands were held tightly as the pain amplified.

Still no words were spoken as I pushed myself to guardedly and bravely get out of the car.

We headed directly to the 3rd floor of the hospital. My two previous trips to this destination were met with joy, not sadness and deep sorrow.

He quietly spoke to one nurse while another led me to a private room at the very end of a long hallway. She helped me out of my pretty clothes. Warm blankets were placed on my back as I lay on my side knowing I was in full-blown labor.

My husband attempting to be stoic came into the room, still in his business suit. He looked so handsome despite the tragedy we now confronted.

I tried to muster up a smile to show my connection to him and my intent to find courage.

Dr. Caner of the neonatal unit came in.

Tears from my heart and soul now streamed down my face.

His eyes told me the outcome before he spoke the words, "Your baby is too young to survive. You will soon deliver this baby and we will not resuscitate your child or do anything other than our best to make you and your child comfortable."

He squeezed my hand in order to give me more of the much-needed mental and physical strength I needed to endure this implausible journey.

He asked if I had any questions. I could not speak. This was no time to beg and plea for the survival of my baby. The absolute decision had already been made, despite my efforts to protect my child since I first learned of the dangers of my pregnancy the previous July.

That July, there was an outdoor family gathering on a beautiful summer day. It felt like laughter was long overdue. The sun was warm and the food and conversation was at its best.

That evening, my husband and I celebrated the day with torrid sex, all but forgetting the small life within.

The next morning I awoke momentarily happy, and then stretched only to feel a tremendous burst from within.

Red-tinged sanguineous fluid leaked from between my legs.

The phrase "premature rupture of the amniotic sac" now applied. The obstetrician offered a D and C but I refused and hoped and prayed that despite this catastrophic event, we would all survive this.

Now, eight weeks later, the consequence of this rupture unfolded.

The pain in my low back and pelvis was now minimal compared to the overwhelming pain of grief in my heart.

It was time.

I was wheeled into a small delivery room.

An obstetrician was not present. There was only a frightened male med student and myself now ready or not for this birth.

Once entered into the birth canal, the baby's journey was quick into the awaiting hands of the trembling soon-to-be doctor.

All I heard was: "APGAR of one."

The babe was handed over to me, all naked and pink.

His head moved gently to and fro as he found comfort in the palms of my hands. There was only the very faint sound of a cry. I put my face to his and felt the frail, translucent skin as I kissed his tiny, perfectly formed body. Both the smell and the taste of my baby's skin was sweet, and then wet and salty from my ever-flowing tears. I used these tears as the holiest of water to baptize my baby. His color now faded from pinkish to blue as his last breath faded forever.

The tears still flowed and the sobbing now engulfed the room.

A somber nurse came into the room with a tiny basket.

She took my baby from my hands, wrapped him in a small white cloth, and placed him in the basket.

After one final kiss, his physical body was gone from me forever.

Such a brief life.

Was it all worth the immense heartbreak?

Absolutely!

This soul traveled a whole lifetime in five minutes.

He felt the love and the warm touch of his mother's lips as I tenderly and repeatedly kissed him.

He felt the warm tears splash on his tiny chest. They must have felt like the waves of the sea. His tiny body was so weak and fading, yet his spirit rallied with all its might for breath. Oh for him to breath and reach for his mother's face, so warm and wet with grief juxtaposed with joy! I knew him so very briefly and yet I do not regret this event in my life. Looking back, I cherish this memory of a mother's unconditional love.

This baby struggled to survive a natural birth and death. Not unlike all of us.

He travelled from fetus to...