Last night, at 5:58, I gave birth to a tiny little miracle. At just 2 pounds 12 ounces, James David entered my life and this world just a little sooner than we anticipated.
It all started on November 7 when I went in for my weekly appointment with my high risk doctor. My blood pressure was high again and she decided to keep me for 24-hour observation at the hospital. They would do a 24-hour urine collection to determine if I had preeclampsia and make decisions from there.
As I feared, I did have preeclampsia. The protein in my urine was just at the level where they diagnose pre-e: 300. My doctor informed me that I would be on bed rest for the remainder of my pregnancy and she wanted to keep me another day. Great.
The following day, Saturday, I was fully prepared to start packing to go home. Until Dr. Ware showed up. She informed me that the protein had doubled over night and that it was an indicator that things could get really bad with the pre-e. They would begin steroid shots to build up James' lungs in case we needed to deliver early.
My protein levels continued to rise and despite being on blood pressure medicine, my blood pressure was still spiking at times. On Tuesday morning I woke up and felt like someone was sitting on my chest. I couldn't breathe. I could barely get out a sentence without coughing and gasping for air. After the 7 am shift change doctors began ordering various tests including a chest x-ray and an EKG. While I waited on the test results, I was given oxygen to assist my breathing. That evening my doctors informed me that the pain I was experiencing was due to fluid building up on my lungs as a result of the high blood pressure. The first course of action was to administer a diuretic to help drain the fluid out of my body. Dr. Ware informed me that there was no way I could wait until 37 weeks to deliver James. At best we were looking at 34 weeks, but even that would be a stretch.
I didn't panic initially. But when a doctor from the NICU came to visit and answer any questions Brian and I had, I shut down. I absoultely couldn't believe that I was here. In this situation. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. I was supposed to have a smooth delivery via induction at 38 weeks just like I did with Thomas.
Thursday night Dr. Ware came into my room with a somber look on her face. I knew it was not good. I knew what she was going to say. My protein level was just short of where they would normally deliver James. It was likely that I would reach that level the following day.
I didn't sleep that well that night. I prayed like I haven't prayed in a really long time. I didn't really pray for my protein level to decrease. I didn't pray for James to arrive at a normal birth weight and not need the NICU. No, I simply prayed to be content. To be okay with whatever the following day's outcome would be.
As expected I was told that I would deliver that day, but due to a backed up operating room and my OB's schedule, it was unknown when I would be taken back for a c-section. The next few hours were the longest of my life. I felt like a prisoner awaiting his lethal injection, not a mom who was preparing to meet her new baby. I played over the last 30 weeks in my mind--what did I do wrong? Was this my fault? What specific action did I do to make this happen?
Around 4:30 pm the room started erupting with nurses preparing me for delivery. Anesthesiology showed up and that's where things start to get hazy.
I remember sitting in my room with Brian and the nurses wheeling me out into the hallway. My mom was standing outside my door, and I waved to her as I rode away on my glorious bed chariot.
I remember being placed on the operating table, unable to move anything below my waistline. The thin blue curtain I had seen in so many baby delivery shows was put up in front of me and I heard Dr. Bartley enter the room shortly after that.
I remember her asking, "Did you feel that?"
"No," I responded.
"Okay, well I just pinched your stomach really hard," she told me.
"Well that wasn't very nice!" Oh yeah--the drugs were working.
At that point I remember being terrified that they were going to begin operating without Brian in the room. Who would hold my hand? Who would check on James while I was stitched up? Who would walk down to the NICU with him?
I felt a huge relief when one of the nurses announced his arrival. As soon as he was by my side I reached for his hand.
I don't remember them actually telling me that they were beginning to cut, but I do remember there being a lot of pulling and strange sounds coming from behind the curtain. I remember Brian talking to me, but I don't remember what he said or what I said.
Suddenly I felt Dr. Bartley mashing on my ribcage over and over--like she was trying to kill me with CPR. Then there was a pause and I heard several people scurry over to my bed. A moment later they called Brian to the corner of the room. He left my side and that's when I heard it.
Crying. The most beautiful cry I have ever heard in my life. It was teeny, but strong. Soft, but loud. It was perfect. Tears began streaming down my face. "That's a good sound, isn't it, Momma?" Dr. Bartley asked as she and her team repaired my tummy. All I could do was nod.
Brian and the team of NICU nurses brought him by my bedside so I only got to see him for a moment, but it was cherished nonetheless.
After my surgery, I was taken back to a recovery room for about an hour. I was told that they would take me to the NICU to see him and I was itching to get out of there.
When I finally made it back there I was in love. Again, just like with Thomas, I was completely infatuated with this tiny creature that had grown and moved inside my belly. As scary as it was to see him in that incubator, hooked up to all those monitors, I knew that everything was going to be okay.
It has to be.
James' first photo.
Breathing okay on his own.
In Room #2 in the NICU.
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