Hurricane Ephraim

Thank you to those who were able to make the funeral.  There were many who made relatively long trips to Wabash to visit us.  Under any other circumstances it would have been a great party.  Friends we've not seen in years and people we've not talked to in quite some time.  It meant much to us that you showed up.

I've spent most of my adult life avoiding funerals.  I don't know whether it is the finality of death, the general unease of everyone present or the lack of words needing to be spoken at a funeral.  I'm pretty good at sticking my foot in my mouth.  Really.  I can manage to say the wrong thing most of the time and I just don't like to take my chances when it comes to death.  In our situation there wasn't really much anyone could say.  We don't expect anyone to say much but just show support that you care and that doesn't even need to involve words.

As the dust settles and we have some time to review the situation, people are asking us how we're doing.  I'm a quantitative guy so I'm inherently lost in emotional situations.   Dealing with feelings, grief, loss and all the mushy stuff the counselors like is like being asked to vomit so people can watch.  Suffice to say it is not my cup of tea.

But when I'm asked how I'm doing, I'd love to have a chart that would rate us.  Maybe a 1-100 score where a score below 50 is an automatic prescription for antidepressants.  I'm sure someone out there has some tool that would turn this qualitative situation into a quantitative score for me. 

I would describe how we're doing with the following metaphor.

At the 18 week ultrasound with Megan's OB, we noticed a strong rotation over some warmer waters deep in the Atlantic Ocean that would most likely lead to a situation where we could feel some remnants of a storm.  The following week in Cincinnati the tropical depression that had been detected was confirmed that it would hit us and it was looking like it would be a strong hurricane force storm.  Through the weeks and months of appointments in both Indianapolis and Cincinnati the storm grew stronger and confirmation was given that we were in the direct path of the storm.  We bought lumber and sealed our windows telling our family and friends it didn't look good and that it was a poor prognosis.  As Megan grew and the baby reached record size, the waters had warmed and the storm grew to a category five aimed directly for us. 

There was no way out.  We called for help.  People sent us provisions and helped us through a painstaking pregnancy where my wife endured three months of full-term size.  The interstates were jammed with everyone else trying to leave with their possessions.  It wouldn't have mattered if we could make it on the road because the hotels were full anyway.  This storm was so fierce that no matter where we went we could not hide. Extra provisions were purchased and we stayed in a safe house with friends.  They were comforting and they had plenty of food but we were in the eye. 

Finally the storm hit on August 18th.  While many prayed and watched the news (this blog) no one could save us from the lashing that hit us.  Little Ephraim was born without the ability to breathe.  That day was the saddest of my life and the direct hit was difficult to manage.  Despite the support from others and secure bunker we had, the storm had hit us squarely. 

In the following week after his death, we assessed the damage.  There was physical and emotional damage.  Fortunately the physical damage was not permanent but the emotional toll was catastrophic.  This is a storm that will live in infamy.  The very name of it (him) will be remembered like Sandy or Katrina.  As we regroup as a family and rebuild our lives, we know we are not the same.  Ephraim has changed us. 

What has changed yet we don't know.  We recently received back power and have started to resume our lives as normal.  I'm able to return to work but progress is slow and there are delays bringing speeds up to normal.  People around us understand that this is an extraordinary event and exceptions have been made.  Progress is slower and there is post traumatic stress on all involved, not only those directly in the eye but also those just outside of it.  We all are recovering from this life changing event. 

But in the end, I think we can all say we have survived Hurricane Ephraim.