How To Live After Dying

Disclaimer: This post discusses pregnancy loss, severe bleeding, a medical emergency, and my personal experience of nearly dying. Some details may be difficult or triggering for those who have experienced miscarriage, trauma, or medical emergencies.

Feel free to skip this post if you feel it may be too difficult for you. 

My husband and I were just getting through the days. We had accepted that we had lost our precious baby, and we thought things were getting back to normal, or at least our new normal.

But one night, I went to bed not feeling very well. My belly hurt, and my back was killing me. I thought this was normal. Maybe I was just about to start my period. After everything my body had been through, I didn’t think much of it.

That night, I tossed and turned, unable to get comfortable.

Around 4:30 in the morning, I woke up and felt a small gush.

As I jumped up from my bed, a large gush came pouring down my legs.

I was in a panic. I had just woken up and was trying to figure out what was happening. I woke my husband and told him what was going on.

Then another gush poured out of my body.

Suddenly, fear set in as I understood what was happening.

I screamed to my husband, “Get me to the hospital. I’m hemorrhaging.”

I had never seen that kind of fear in my husband’s eyes.

As we rushed through the house trying to get our daughter and get to the car, I called my sister. Partially because I needed someone to take Sophia, but also because I needed someone to tell me that I was okay. I needed someone to tell me it wasn’t as serious as I thought.

I was in total denial, even though I knew exactly what was happening.

My sister knew it was serious. She told me to just get in the car and go.

We got to the car, and another gush.

We finally met my sister, and that’s when I realized I had to tell my baby goodbye.

I don’t have the words to express the pain I felt not knowing if I would ever see my little girl again.

At that moment, I begged God not to take me from her or any of my children. Flashes of their lives ran through my head.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen my husband so calm in such a crisis, but he was. He kept telling me I was going to make it and to calm down.

Gush after gush, I became weaker. Eventually, I had to hang my head out of the window just to keep myself alert.

I could feel my body wanting to shut down.

I could feel myself wanting to drift away, but I kept my eyes open and tried to focus.

I knew we wouldn’t make it in time, and I couldn’t imagine dying right there in the car and my husband having to carry that with him.

So I pushed through.

Finally, what felt like forever,but actually wasn’t, we arrived at the hospital.

My husband broke a lot of laws that morning.

He ran inside, and a nurse came out with a wheelchair. I don’t think she realized the severity of what was happening until my husband pulled me out of the vehicle.

Then it became very clear.

They called for backup, and it felt like people were running from all different directions.

It felt like an episode of Grey’s Anatomy. They were running so fast, saying terms I couldn’t understand.

All I could focus on were the white lights going by, one after another.

We got to a room, and they transferred me onto a bed. They cut my clothes off my body and held each of my arms down.

“We can’t find a vein,” one person said.

“I can’t get one on this side either,” another nurse called out.

My mind was spinning. Actually, it felt like the whole room was spinning.

“I can’t get a BP reading,” someone shouted.

At one point, I wondered if I had already died and just hadn’t left my body yet.

Finally, I heard a nurse say they had gotten a very low blood pressure reading.

I looked over and saw that my heart rate was extremely low, and fear rushed over my body once more.

I started to close my eyes when I felt a male nurse say,

“Don’t close your eyes. You have too much to live for.”

I don’t know why, after everything that was happening, those words were what made it feel real.

I could actually die.

As a woman of faith, I know where I’m going. But I wasn’t ready to go yet.

I needed more time.

I started to pray once more, keeping my eyes open the whole time.

As I lay there thinking about my family and wondering if I would ever see them again, my husband walked in.

Apparently, no one was keeping him out of the room.

He sat near the entrance, just watching.

He had been so amazing. He had known exactly what he needed to do and where he needed to take me. We had passed several hospitals on our way, but my husband knew what needed to be done.

At that moment, I realized just how precious our relationship was, and I don’t know what I would have done if I had been in his position.

I looked at him, and I could see the worry and helplessness in his face.

He knew his job was done.

It was now out of his hands.

A nurse came in with a pint of blood, and they started running it through my veins.

I heard a nurse whisper to another that I had lost too much blood.

My body was starting to shut down.

After a few pints of blood, I went in for an emergency D&C.

Then I woke up in the recovery room.

I’m alive.

The relief washed over me so strongly that I could feel it moving through my body and out through my hands and feet.

Once they finally allowed me to see my family, it was almost more than I could take.

I broke down.

When it was finally time for me to go home, my husband pulled the car around.

As my door opened, I could see what was left of the nightmare I had just endured.

My husband tried to cover it up, but there it was, staring back at me.

When we finally got home, he left me in the car while he cleaned up the mess in the house. He didn’t want me to have to relive what had happened.

It took several weeks for me to get my energy back.

It was a long process. One I thought I would never get through.

But as the days and weeks went by, I slowly started to feel like myself again.

At least my body did.

My brain was a different story.

Things had changed.

I felt grateful to be alive, but I couldn’t get comfortable in my own home. I woke up afraid of dying. I barely wanted to leave the house.

I wanted to climb out of my own skin.

I didn’t feel like me anymore.

I told my husband I was going crazy, but he assured me that it was a traumatic experience and that I needed to give myself time.

Day after day, I tried to brush it off, but it was like a dark cloud loomed over me.

Then one morning, I sat outside with my coffee.

I looked around and thought about how fortunate I was to still be sitting on my porch, drinking my coffee and listening to the silence.

I thanked God once again for allowing me to live.

For allowing me to have a second chance.

A second chance to live like I never had before.

That is where my new journey began.

I started appreciating the little things.

I looked at my daughter playing in her sandbox. Usually, I would get upset thinking about all the sand she was going to carry into the house.

But now?

I looked at it as another memory being made.

I started seeing my children again, not just as the adults they are, but as the children I had the privilege of raising.

I thought about how those memories will stay with me forever.

I thought about getting to watch my grandchildren grow and how precious it is to hear them call me Mamaw.

My husband encouraged me to start writing again, and I never realized how much I had missed it or how much it would help me heal.

I look forward to each day now.

I try not to let the little things bother me like they did before.

I’m not saying life is perfect. Things still get me down.

But I’m learning that life really is short, and you never know what lies ahead.

What I do know is that I’m here now.

And when it is my time to go, the messy house, the dishes, and all the little inconveniences that once felt so big won’t matter.

The memories I made.

The experiences I had.

And most importantly, the family I created.

That is what I will carry in my heart as I fade away.

Maybe that is what it means to learn how to live after dying.

Have you ever experienced something that completely changed the way you look at life?

Maybe it was a near death experience, a loss, a health scare, or simply a moment that made you realize how precious the little things really are.

If you feel comfortable sharing, I’d love to hear your story.