Pregnancy Tales: The birth

It has taken me almost two months to be able to really pen this down—partly because I’ve been taking care of a newborn and partly because it’s emotional. After I’ve been able to process it, I still find myself in tears. I’m emotional and thankful and hormonal. So, while this may not be the best post and it’s long, it is documenting one of the scariest and most beautiful times in my life. 

Sunday, February 17, 2019

I woke up just like any other Sunday, except I wasn’t 100%. I had Jimmie check my blood pressure and while it was a little high, it was not over the numbers our doctor gave us. 

“Anything over 160/100, then you need to come in!”

Got up. Got dressed. Went to church. Had lunch. Came home and everyone took a nap, mainly because I just didn’t feel good. I couldn’t tell anyone what was wrong, but just that I didn’t feel good. Something was off, but I just didn’t know what. 

Around 4, I had Jimmie check my blood pressure again. 

It was consistently above 160/100.

“Let’s go to your mom’s and have her check it manually.” 

We load up and head over. 

Again, it was consistently high. Drastically high.  One reading was 183/107.

We call the on-call service.

“You need to go to Labor and Delivery.”

We got Gracee and Titus settled with my parents. And off Jimmie and I went.

I was convinced we would be home in a few hours with me on bed rest. Or worst case scenario, I would be monitored on bed rest in the hospital for a day or two. 

What I did not expect was having three nurses start working on me while I was putting on that fancy hospital gown. What I did not expect was the Laborist to come in and say, “We are going to deliver your baby.” 

I looked at Jimmie and I know my eyes screamed “Help! What?” 

“You are at risk of a stroke or seizures. You and the baby could die.”

“What?” 

Bp: 207/146

I look at Jimmie and I can tell his blood pressure is then rising. But then I see it. I see my strong, protector husband look helpless and scared as he fights tears. He assured me that he was okay, but he was getting my sister to come up to the hospital. 

(My sister is a rockstar and she came immediately. I don’t know if she knows or will ever know what it meant to Jimmie (and me) to have her there. She came in with a peace, knowledge, and heart. She helped calm the scared parents we were.) 

What I didn’t realize was just how serious and almost emergent this situation was. All I could do was pray. I felt like everything was happening really fast and I was confused as to what all was happening. I knew the nurses were talking to me and telling me what they were doing, but I could process it. 

All I knew was I had to trust that the Lord had me and Libby in His hands.

After steroid shots and IV medicines and catheters and pressure cuffs, we were able to wait until my regular doctor made rounds the next morning before making a decision about delivery. 

That night was quite possibly the longest and most uncomfortable night of my life. I had tubes and chords everywhere on and in my body. That night I watched the clock tick. I listened to my baby girl’s heartbeat. I watched as my husband finally got a little bit of sleep on that uncomfortable sofa. And I prayed.

I prayed that I wasn’t about to leave Jimmie with 3 or 2 kids to raise. Maybe that prayer was wrong or selfish, but it was the honest plea of my heart. 

I didn’t go to the hospital that night even remotely thinking I would be close to having my baby. Looking back, I think I might have been in some state of shock or denial. 

I wasn’t ready to not be pregnant anymore. 

I wasn’t ready to not feel her kicks, rolls, flips, and hiccups on the inside. 

And to be completely honest, I wasn’t ready to share her. 

While I long to hold her and smell her, I wasn’t ready to not carry her. 

I was supposed to have 4 more weeks—just her and I. 

Monday, February 18, 2019 

Morning came. 

And we wait. 

My doctor, whom we love, came in around 11:15. 

“I’m sorry the other doctor scared you, but everything he said is true. This is a very serious condition. We don’t know why it happens, but we know how to cure it. And that’s by delivering the baby.  The fact is you could start seizing at any minute—before we even finish this conversation. So, we need to have this baby today.”

The news.

It was a lot. But the morning brought joy and peace among some scary news. 

“We can give you medicine to see if she will move into position in order to deliver. Or we can do a caesarean this afternoon. The decision is up to you both, but with the medicine it will take 10-12 hours to even start labor if it works. And it still has the potential to turn into an emergency situation and we end up in the OR anyway.” 

He left us to talk. 

Jimmie and I just looked at each other. 

We held hands and tried to take a deep breath. 

I just needed time to stop for a minute so I could process things. But there was no time. There was an urgency stirring. We opted for what we believed was the safest option: c-section. 

11:33am

Upon telling our doctor our decision, I was immediately being prepared for surgery. 

To be honest, when we were told “this afternoon” we thought 4 or 5pm. We thought we would have a few hours. However, that was not the case. 

Jimmie immediately started calling and texting people. This was happening. And happening fast!! 

I’m not real sure of everything that happened or who got there first. I remember being a ball of emotions and trying not to cry too much. 

There were people prepping all areas of my body for surgery. There was a razor. There were q-tips in my nose. There was a cap on my head. There were papers And signatures. 

There was Jimmie in scrubs. There was my mom and sister. There was the NICU team talking about the possibilities. But he assured me if at all possible, I would get my skin to skin time immediately. 

And all I wanted to do was scream “Wait. I just need a minute. It’s too fast.”

But I was just there. Going through the motions—getting prepped— to meet this baby that I’d  prayed for for years. And I wasn’t sure I was ready. This isn’t how I pictured it at all. 

And I was scared. 

And I had to trust that the Lord was taking care of both of us. We had prayed that Libby’s birth would be His perfect will and safe for mom and baby. But, this wasn’t really how we had pictured it at all. (Funny how that happens!) 

In the middle of it all, I looked at Jimmie, squeezed his hand and said, “After she’s born, you go be with our girl and make sure she’s okay. You go be with her. I’ll be fine. And if I can have someone with me, send my mom. You go make sure our baby girl is okay.” 

They came in to get me. 

It was happening so fast. I looked at my mom. My sister. My husband. I looked deep into each of their eyes. They were all on the verge of breaking into emotion but were holding together for me. So, I held it together for them. 

They wheeled me down the hallway into the cold OR. 

More prep. 

But no husband with me yet. 

My mind and heart were racing with fears and prayers all intertwined. 

I laid there on the table. And I couldn’t feel my body from the epidural. All I could see was a blue sheet and bright lights. 

They were pushing medicine in me. They were talking. “Footloose” was playing on the stereo.  

“Hey baby.” I looked to my left and there my soulmate was——finally—-again. I wish I could’ve frozen that moment. That’s the moment I never want to forget—one of them at least. There was a peace and relief in His eyes. Maybe it was there for me—I don’t know  but I was so thankful to be able to look at him while knowing my body was cut wide open. 

Bizarre. Being wide awake. Not being able to feel your body. But knowing it’s being cut wide open. And knowing they are about to pull out life. A baby. An extension of you—your heart. 

12:40pm

Then, I heard it. 

It was the most beautiful sound. Her little cry. And what felt like my first breath, I sighed loudly. It was as if life filled my lungs for the first time. 

They quickly came around the blue sheet and let us look. 

“Those lips!”

And the tears started. There she was. The embodiment of God’s faithfulness and goodness. 

“Is she okay?”

“She’s great! She’s strong! 7lbs 4oz.”

My—Our baby was here! 

Thankfully she was breathing wonderfully; so they brought her to me, so that I could get skin to skin time immediately. The nurse laid her beautiful little body on my chest and I watched as her skin turn the prettiest shade of pink to match mine. I watched as she nestled closer to me. 

Upon holding her, feeling her, smelling her, seeing her, and falling madly in love with her, the previous night’s fears were a million miles away. I was so focused on this perfect gift the Lord had given us. Overwhelmed would be an understatement. I was in complete awe of my Lord. He continues to amaze me with this story and what He is doing. 

Everyday I thank the Lord for this beautiful story. I am thankful He chose me. I am thankful He gave us each other. I am thankful He never leaves or forsakes us. 

Until next time, Dearies!