I knew that it was completely up to God to get me through this pregnancy. I was very vocal about my rebellion towards the Word of Faith tenets. I confessed my doubts and fears openly concerning the outcome of this pregnancy. During this time the ladies at the church looked to me for counsel now and then. I felt to be the least of anyone to know how to approach their needs. I did the best I could and by the grace of God they seemed to be drawn to my counsel. I, personally, found that they were far more supportive of me than I was to them. I could not have asked for a better group of ladies for God to bless me with. I was beginning to see a dim picture God's grace.
Here I was in pure emotional agony and to make matters even tougher the pregnancy did not go well. My first doctor was very concerned about my well being and the well being of the baby. At ten weeks he sent me to see a specialist in a bigger city because of my thyroid. Towards my twentieth week he moved out of town and I had to find a new doctor. I found a doctor who had much experience and who was a believer. He shared with me that he was going to take this pregnancy very seriously through care and prayer. Wow! What more could I ask for in a doctor? One day, after grocery shopping, I came into the kitchen with my first load of groceries from the car; I noticed a message on the answering machine. It was my doctor. He said, “I have been up since five am praying for you and the pregnancy. I have some serious concerns. I am going to send you to a specialist in Denver.” I was blessed on one hand that my doctor should be on his knees for me but shell shocked on the other that he was that concerned. I called him back. He gave me the number of the specialist who was expecting my call. I set the date for three days away. This topped my Ice cream Sunday of anxiety with thick lavish syrup of panic. I sat on the couch in a daze. My front door stood open and the trunk of my car was still open too. This, I later found out, was causing a bit of a stir in the neighborhood. Knowing my history and being wonderful concerned neighbors, they had noticed that I had not returned to gather the rest of my groceries. Though I did finally take care of my car and the groceries just before they had decided to "call in the troops".
It turned out that my doctor’s concern was the apparent size of my uterus. The 3D ultra sound administered by the neo-natologist in Denver did not reveal any abnormalities or problems. Just for the heck of it she took a stab at measuring me from side to side instead of from top to bottom. Amazingly enough, I measured right this way. She said that in her thirty years as a MD specializing in high risk pregnancies she had never seen someone measure correctly side to side and not top to bottom. I had to laugh. She assumed that this phenomenon was due to the fact that the baby was transverse (lying side to side) and that I carried the risk of polyhydramnios (too much amniotic fluid). The two together had created a unique pregnancy. She said that everything else looked perfect. “Whew”…I was relieved to hear this.
Towards the last thirteen weeks of pregnancy, I spent three hours every week at the hospital doing stress tests and ultrasounds. The baby continued to be transverse which posed its own set of problems for delivery. The high level of amniotic fluid posed its own set of problems as well. If my amniotic sac were to break it posed a risk of pinching the umbilical cord shut with the rush of fluid. Certainly, this pregnancy was causing me to cry out to God instead of trusting in my own abilities to control the outcome.
So far I had endured one tubal pregnancy, two normal pregnancies resulting in live births and a full term pregnancy loss and another loss at sixteen weeks. With no discernable amount of faith or artifice of control, I coped one day at a time. Slowly but surely, I reacquainted myself with prayer. Not hours of it by any means but just simple honest prayers. It was a step by step process.
Mentally speaking, I succeeded by simply accepting the fact that I was pregnant and that I could not know the outcome. The next step was talking to the Lord about my fears. I never hid my fears from myself or the Lord during this trial of faith. Rather than hiding these fears in fear of what my feelings would produce, I confessed them and prayed about them. Regularly, from that point on I mimicked the prayer of Jesus, “Lord, I really would like to have this child be born alive, but not my will but yours be done”. For awhile this prayer frightened me. I had to believe what I prayed. That meant that my will had to yield to the Lord’s will. But each time I prayed it I felt a little more joy and a little more freedom. Still, I would lay awake at night and fret if I didn’t feel movement for more than a half an hour. I kept my husband awake on more than one occasion when I would reposition back and forth trying to get the baby to move. Looking back, it was almost laughable the way I acted.
The third step was learning what was most important to me. One day in particular stands out in my mind. I was in Colorado Springs visiting my parents. It had been awhile since I or Joshua had seen the Air Force Academy and Alexis had never been there so we decided to go for a trip and we took my parents' neighbor's kids too. As I was standing in front of that majestic chapel there on that military base, the thought struck me as I stared at my children and the other children playing on the stairs that led up to the big chapel. Isn't the Lord worth more to me than any child? What could I say? Yes, He was! A wave of peace and joy came over me and it lasted for about two minutes and then it was gone. It gave me reason to hope though. It became my new mantra...even when I didn't always mean it. "Even if I don't get this child, I will still have you Lord. I will always have You. Nothing would separate me from the Love of Christ." It was a step of faith in the right direction for me.
I did other things to help me cope through the pregnancy. I worked part time at the prison teaching GED skills. It did wonders to keep my mind off of me and the pregnancy for awhile each day. I managed to keep my pregnancy hidden from the inmates until I was about five months along and then it was pretty obvious. At first they teased me but when they understood that it was something I would not speak about openly, especially with them, they stopped. My supervisor was wonderful. He allowed me to work four days a week which meant I had every Friday off. I used this day in the first months of pregnancy to sleep and get caught up on house work.
During the last thirteen weeks Friday mornings were spent at the hospital. First I would go to have an ultra sound that checked amniotic fluid levels, the babies position and obviously for a heartbeat. Then I would head upstairs to the maternity for a stress test. Not really sure what that was all about but I did it. For thirteen weeks I went through the routine. It became a routine that I learned to enjoy. I got to know the ladies in radiology pretty well and I knew all of them in the maternity ward which I thought would come in handy. These visits helped me cope quite well and I think my doctor knew that.
Since the baby was still transverse and I carried the risks of poyhydramnios, I was scheduled for a C-section. That day came Friday, March 25. Because my doctor was not able to perform C-sections, the doctor that had delivered Samuel was to see me through this delivery as well. Though I had tried all the tricks to get the baby to turn she refused to flip head down until that morning at the hospital. I felt a very distinct movement and knew that is what had happened. So after the doctor made sure that the baby was head down, she told me I no longer needed a C-section. She was going to pin prick the sac to alleviate the pressure of the fluid and I was prepped for an induction instead. After placing the epidural in my spine as precautionary measure, a heart monitor was placed on my belly. It read a wonderful 150 beats a minute causing me and the doctor to breathe easy. That security soon disappeared as the babies heart rate suddenly fell to 30 beats a minute. The doctor didn't bat an eye before calling the OR and having me prepped for an emergency C-section. Within moments I was wheeled quickly to the OR. Within those moments I prayed again, this time with all my heart, "Lord, it's ok if I don't get this baby....I still have You. You are all I need". I meant it that time.
Since the epidural was not doing it's job and I was able to feel each cut she was making, she was forced to give me a stronger medicine through the epidural. Though my eyes were open, I was not mentally aware of what was happening. Because my eyes were open, Darren thought that I was awake and aware of what was going on. He was careful to keep the panic he was feeling restrained. He was talking me through it which I think was helpful for him but I did not hear a word. Finally, after it seemed like an eternity had passed for me, I did hear Darren ask me if I could hear that. I strained with all my might to listen and I did hear a babies cry. I felt a wave of relief and then lost consciousness again. The doctor told me later that it was the most stressful C-sections she had performed. Apparently, she could not free the baby from the uterus. She had to cut me horizontally and vertically.
Her report states, "(Patient) was placed in supine position on the operation table and at left lateral tilt. Fetal hear tones were verified with redosing of the epidural and noted to be in the 130's...I palpated the uterus and felt that the baby was no longer vertex...I scored the uterus...The baby was found to be back down to transverse, buttocks to maternal left, so she had started to somersault to vertex and just kept on going. Initially, I was able grab one foot and the other appendage I got was a hand. I put the hand back. I grabbed and got the other foot after I had T'd the uterus by about 3 cm. So far we had got the baby delivered up to the head but could not get the head delivered, I T'd the uterus further. The head was then delivered."
My husband tells me then that because it took much longer than expected to deliver her, they could not get her to breathe for a stressful amount of time. I only knew that she was alive and then had lost conciousness again. What seemed like moments to me was quite some time later as they were unable to wake me in the recovery room for some hours. I only knew that I was holding my precious daughter. Not only had the Lord given me a child, He had protected me from all the stress of delivery. Thank you Jesus.
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