My pregnancy started off rough. Very rough.
I was so ill with morning sickness those first months, it was all I had
to keep my head up. I cried out to the
Lord for strength and kept leaning into Him, because I know Him to be faithful! And He was.
He is!
He saw me through morning sickness, just in time for the
influenza to hit our home like never before.
I spent the last 2 months of my pregnancy sleepless, caring for very
sick children and husband. I, too, came
down ill and I am certain I never felt more exhausted and spent in my whole
entire life.
All the while, I was struggling with a nudging in my spirit
that something was not right in my pregnancy.
No matter how hard I tried to prepare myself for labor and a new baby, I
could not see it happening. I eventually
approached my midwife with my concerns.
I expressed how I could not stop thinking about possible cord issues and
how I was struggling to figure out if the struggle was fear or a warning.
My midwife knows me very well, encouraged me and joined me
in prayer for guidance and clarity of mind.
I had a late ultra sound done and everything seemed fine, however, my
mind still was not put at ease. I found
myself being fairly content with being pregnant because I was deeply concerned
about what would happen when labor actually began….I could not shake something
was wrong.
On the evening of the January 5th around 5pm I
started regularly contracting. I had
spent many prior days in bed due to difficulty breathing and extreme exhaustion
from the flu and lack of sleep. Suddenly
that night I got a surge of energy and I knew in my heart this was really it,
but I still felt very concerned. I was
certain, though, if fear was my struggle and I was determined to overcome it if
it was.
At bedtime I was still contracting regularly, but I went to
sleep. I woke with every contraction but
went back to sleep. This was until that
one contraction, around midnight, when I woke up and I clearly remember
thinking, “that contraction did not feel normal.”. I got out of bed and as soon as I stood up my
water broke. I started to shake
violently. I went to the bathroom and
saw there was meconium in the fluid. This
has happened before and everything turned out fine, but this time it was my
first visual to go along with the check in my spirit. I called my midwife and we were then on our
way.
Once settled in at the place where I would give birth, I
continued to contract 5-7 minutes all night long. I spent those hours praying to the Lord,
asking still for clarity of mind. “Is
this fear I feel Lord? Am I fearing
labor and not willing to accept this and move on? Or is something wrong, Lord? Please give me a clear answer, Lord.”
By morning I had not found peace. I always find peace in labor, and it had not
come. I had not progressed either, and
my midwife asked me if I felt I needed to be in the hospital. Somehow I knew right then the answer was
yes. Yes, I knew, for whatever reason I
was going to need to be in the hospital.
So, somewhere around 7am, we transferred to the hospital, where we were
greeted by a friendly staff, willing to take me into their care, which put me
immediately at ease.
It wasn’t long after arrival that there was noticeable
distress in our baby, but I was reassured that he was doing well in between
contractions. He continued to bounce
back well after every contraction, but contractions were exhausting because I
had to lay on my right side the entire day and was moved by the team,
practically onto my belly, with each contraction to relieve baby.
Labor was long. I
already went into labor exhausted and spent.
I seriously was losing any and all reserves I had very quickly. Not only was I physically exhausted, but the
emotional toll was heavy. I hadn’t
voiced it all day, but I kept asking my Lord, “Am I going to have a still born baby
today?” I cannot express the struggle in
my spirit on this day of my life…..yet I amazingly had not shed a tear the
whole day. The doctor I had was so
patient all day, knowing as long as the baby was recovering from contractions I
could still have a chance to deliver.
The baby, however, was still way high and not engaging, even after
attempts to pull him down, when I was already 9 cm dialated a whole 25 hours
later.
Finally, when the doctor came and suggested trying Pitocin
again (which was a failed attempt earlier because the baby did NOT like that)
to see if we could get the baby out quickly that way, the floodgates finally
opened. I knew. I knew this was not going to happen the way
we all had hoped. And I started to
silently cry. The doctor noticed my
tears and my midwife expressed how I had had a feeling something was not
right. I told the doctor it wasn’t going
to happen, and he admitted he agreed but was trying to give me a chance. I thanked him and we moved on. I was wheeled into the operating room, saying
goodbye to my faithful midwife who had stuck by my side all night and day, and
held back tears as I waited for my husband to be in his scrubs and back by my
side.
It’s a helpless feeling lying on that cold table at the
mercy of others. And yes, when you are lying
there you do fear you might die there.
But my fears about my own life went back to my baby’s life quickly when
I could no longer hear his heartbeat on the monitor. When I asked where it was the nurse turned
off the monitor and started talking sweetly to me, though I cannot remember her
words. My baby was all I could think
about. I looked over into the eyes of my
strong husband and his eyes reflected mine.
I suddenly felt unsure of how it all was going to end and did all I’ve
ever known to do when the dark seems so dark.
I cried out to the Lord in my heart and asked Him to help me trust Him
no matter what happened.
The doctor created a large incision, twice the size of my
first cesarean incision, to get our baby out quickly. The first thing I heard him say when he
pulled our little boy into this world was, “There’s the problem.” His cord was short and wrapped tightly around
his neck, preventing him from descending and causing him distress. I started to cry. Really cry, right there on that table. Hearing him say that made me feel thankful I
was lying where I was. It made me feel
grateful to the Lord for speaking to my heart all along, and for being involved
in the every moment, every detail of our son’s little life. Yes, I could have turned out
differently. Even then I would have called
Him faithful. On this day, however, our
son was to live and I have cherished every moment so far.
The days and months after his birth have been hard. I ended up with numerous complications. I had a leg greatly swollen with blood clots
and a large internal hematoma. The
trauma of the first couple months are still something that is a blur, but still
so very raw and real for me. I spent the
first weeks wondering if I would die, as did my husband. Sometimes he couldn’t sleep, for fear I had
stopped breathing or that I would and he would not know. Getting around was excruciatingly painful for
2 and half months and to be raw and real….some days I just didn’t know how I
could take another step. But in those
moments, the Lord was there taking them for me….helping me through.
So I am at the 4 month mark.
I find I have tears falling that I haven’t let fall yet. It’s been about survival thus far. Survival is that temporary scab to a wound
and like my husband says, as it is with a burn, the scab must come off for
proper healing to take place. So I
cry.
Tears for the trauma I felt.
Tears for what I was spared.
Tears for what I have
lost. Tears for what I’ve been given.
Tears for the lonely journey. Tears for the knowing that I’m never really
alone. Tears for the fear of
death. Tears knowing I do not really
need to fear death.
Tears for painful paths.
Tears knowing my life’s path leads me straight to my Heavenly home with
Him.
My heart overflows as I look upon my son’s face. He is amazing. His waking hours are filled with the sweetest
smile. It goes straight and deep into my
heart, bringing me so much joy. Tonight,
when he was getting tired, I took him from his sister and he snuggled his
little face into the crook of my neck and immediately went to sleep. I could have laid him down, but I sat in my
rocker instead. I didn’t want to put him down. I have truly cherished these fleeting moments
with him.
The last months have been a great struggle, some days still
are physically very hard as I continue to heal, and the physical toll it took
on me is apparent, but I have had the blessing of just being still and watching
him grow and marveling at God’s amazing creation.
And when I look at his sweet,
sleeping face, I see God’s fingerprints all over it. I see them all over his story. All over his life. My life.
All over our future.
And I am at peace.
