Sometimes, I'm completely overwhelmed with the understanding of what a miracle Lily is. It hits me unexpectedly, catches me completely off guard.
Right now, after the 2 am feeding, I'm watching Lily drift to sleep. Her warm little body is snuggled against me, and as I rock, and stroke her fuzzy head, she makes involuntary facial expressions, first forming her mouth into a perfect little o and fluttering her eyelids, then smiling. She's very, very much alive. This is the same child I prayed for, begged God to allow me to meet. This is the very same child whose heartbeat I feared not hearing week after week at the Dr's office. This tiny person, who's breath I can feel on my skin, is the same being I watched take shape in the ultrasound pictures over nine months. Her little head rests in the crook of my arm, and I can feel that the back of her neck is smooth; there is no tumor, no hygroma, just loose skin to remind me of what was once there.
Sometimes, I'm caught up in the everyday drama of childbirth recovery, territorial toddler tantrums, sleepless nights, and spit-up. Every once in a while, though, my heart is completely open and I can fully see the magnitude of what God has done. It leaves me breathless.
What if we could see what God has done this Christmas? What if we could intimately know the miracle of Jesus' conception and birth? How would it change us to fully recognize He came to die for us? Are our hearts open enough to let it take our breaths away? Overwhelm us? Or are we too caught up in the everyday drama of shopping and wrapping and holiday parties ?
I pray, this Christmas season, that all the people I love get glimpses of miracles, particularly ones involving little babies.
Saturday, December 3, 2011
Saturday, November 26, 2011
Lily's Arrival
Lily arrived Friday, November 18th at 7:03 am, weighing 7 lbs, 3 oz.
Her c-section was scheduled for 7:30 am Friday, and I was pretty anxious (see previous blog post). I was able to go to sleep at about 11, but woke up again at 1 am feeling strange. Thinking it was just anxious butterflies in my tummy, I went back to sleep. Those were no butterflies. At 3 am, I was awakened by close to the worst pain I've ever felt. There was no doubting it was a contraction, and not one of the annoying ones I'd been having for the last month. Poor Mario (way too many stories start with those two words lately) woke to me screaming I was in labor. I think we were dressed and in the car with mostly packed bags within 5 minutes. He made the usually 40 minute drive to the hospital in 25. I called the Dr on the way there, so the nurses were waiting for us and confirmed we were in fact in active labor. Lily did not want to show up on our schedule or do things anyone's way but her own. I wonder if this is any kind of forecast for the future.
The delivery went beautifully. No problems, minimal pain, and most importantly, lots of loud cries that brought tears of joy to our eyes. Neonatology took Lily for all of 30 minutes before declaring her healthy. That's right. perfectly healthy! Lily even came out hungry and knowing just what to do to eat right after being born!
I had a rough, rough recovery with Avery, so was prepared for the same with Lily. I kept waiting for the pain and crying to set in, but they never really came. We spent three days in the hospital enjoying Lily and introducing her to Katie and Avery when they came to visit. Avery didn't like her very much, but at 21 months, this wasn't a huge surprise. She yelled "Mommy, no! No baby! Bye bye," and tried to push Lily out of my arms. This relationship may take a little time and work.
On the fourth day after Lily was born, we packed up our things and headed home. We were so excited picking up Avery from our friend's house, but I started to feel strange on the final stretch home. My head started hurting, I was dizzy, and I had flashing lights in front of my eyes. Unfortunately, I was familiar with this set of symptoms from when we had Avery. We, along with my doctors, has been carefully watching for them for months. Sure enough, I took my blood pressure when we got in and it was 180/123. Not. Good. I tried lying down for a half hour. Wishful thinking. We called the doctor, who ordered us right back to the hospital stat. Mario and I were both terrified. We called friends who met us on our way to the hospital and took poor, confused Avery home with them.
We were admitted to the hospital, where I gave a ridiculous amount of blood and in return, received an equally obscene number of pills. I had an MRI to make sure the preeclampsia had not done any damage to my brain. Thankfully, it had not. By late afternoon the following day, my blood pressure was finally down if I stayed quiet and still, but we still didn't get to go home. We both missed Avery terribly and had had enough hospital to last us the rest of our lives. Oh how we prayed to be able to take Lily home.
Thanksgiving morning brought answered prayers. My doctor came in and released us. We picked up Avery again, and got home just in time to meet friends who came to our door with a full Thanksgiving dinner. Thank you Smiths!
Overnight, I started to feel badly again, and my blood pressure shot up higher than we had ever seen it. Friday morning brought Dr's orders to return to the hospital, be admitted to icu, and start treatment with magnesium sulfate, which is reportedly a tortuous experience. We called out the troops to pray this time before we tearfully climbed in the car and waved good-bye to Avery. God answered, big time. First, there was no room in icu, so we were sent to antepartum instead, where I was allowed to keep, and continue to feed Lily. Then, my labs came back better than expected and the dreaded magnesium sulfate was indefinitely postponed.
We are still in the hospital, but doing much, much better. We will be here until I look stable for at least 24 hours, but Avery and Katie are safe and happy, Lily is healthy, and I am well cared for.
We've been warned we may have a rough several weeks or even months ahead getting me back to normal, but this thanksgiving holiday, I am still so, so thankful. I'm thankful for the Comerfords and the Shanks for loving on our sweet Avery when we couldn't, and for the Voricks for letting Katie be part of their family at their farm for Thanksgiving week. I'm thankful for my husband, who has
stayed by my side for well over half a decade and walked so closely through the last weeks and months with me. I'm thankful for doctors who have been part of allowing us the privilege of meeting and parenting Lily. I'm thankful for support from family, and I'm thankful for the opportunity to chronicle this journey here and experience all the love, acceptance, and prayers I've received from you who read it. Most of all, I'm thankful for Jesus, to whom we have prayed so fervently over the last 9 months. Without knowing Him, and being able to trust, albeit imperfectly, that He is in control, there would not have been any joy in this journey.
I will post when we are safely home, but after that, I may take a little break from blogging and invest the time in mothering and getting well. Please continue to remember us in your prayers as we try to heal and adjust.
I hope each of you had a holiday as rich in thanksgiving as ours.
Her c-section was scheduled for 7:30 am Friday, and I was pretty anxious (see previous blog post). I was able to go to sleep at about 11, but woke up again at 1 am feeling strange. Thinking it was just anxious butterflies in my tummy, I went back to sleep. Those were no butterflies. At 3 am, I was awakened by close to the worst pain I've ever felt. There was no doubting it was a contraction, and not one of the annoying ones I'd been having for the last month. Poor Mario (way too many stories start with those two words lately) woke to me screaming I was in labor. I think we were dressed and in the car with mostly packed bags within 5 minutes. He made the usually 40 minute drive to the hospital in 25. I called the Dr on the way there, so the nurses were waiting for us and confirmed we were in fact in active labor. Lily did not want to show up on our schedule or do things anyone's way but her own. I wonder if this is any kind of forecast for the future.
The delivery went beautifully. No problems, minimal pain, and most importantly, lots of loud cries that brought tears of joy to our eyes. Neonatology took Lily for all of 30 minutes before declaring her healthy. That's right. perfectly healthy! Lily even came out hungry and knowing just what to do to eat right after being born!
I had a rough, rough recovery with Avery, so was prepared for the same with Lily. I kept waiting for the pain and crying to set in, but they never really came. We spent three days in the hospital enjoying Lily and introducing her to Katie and Avery when they came to visit. Avery didn't like her very much, but at 21 months, this wasn't a huge surprise. She yelled "Mommy, no! No baby! Bye bye," and tried to push Lily out of my arms. This relationship may take a little time and work.
On the fourth day after Lily was born, we packed up our things and headed home. We were so excited picking up Avery from our friend's house, but I started to feel strange on the final stretch home. My head started hurting, I was dizzy, and I had flashing lights in front of my eyes. Unfortunately, I was familiar with this set of symptoms from when we had Avery. We, along with my doctors, has been carefully watching for them for months. Sure enough, I took my blood pressure when we got in and it was 180/123. Not. Good. I tried lying down for a half hour. Wishful thinking. We called the doctor, who ordered us right back to the hospital stat. Mario and I were both terrified. We called friends who met us on our way to the hospital and took poor, confused Avery home with them.
We were admitted to the hospital, where I gave a ridiculous amount of blood and in return, received an equally obscene number of pills. I had an MRI to make sure the preeclampsia had not done any damage to my brain. Thankfully, it had not. By late afternoon the following day, my blood pressure was finally down if I stayed quiet and still, but we still didn't get to go home. We both missed Avery terribly and had had enough hospital to last us the rest of our lives. Oh how we prayed to be able to take Lily home.
Thanksgiving morning brought answered prayers. My doctor came in and released us. We picked up Avery again, and got home just in time to meet friends who came to our door with a full Thanksgiving dinner. Thank you Smiths!
Overnight, I started to feel badly again, and my blood pressure shot up higher than we had ever seen it. Friday morning brought Dr's orders to return to the hospital, be admitted to icu, and start treatment with magnesium sulfate, which is reportedly a tortuous experience. We called out the troops to pray this time before we tearfully climbed in the car and waved good-bye to Avery. God answered, big time. First, there was no room in icu, so we were sent to antepartum instead, where I was allowed to keep, and continue to feed Lily. Then, my labs came back better than expected and the dreaded magnesium sulfate was indefinitely postponed.
We are still in the hospital, but doing much, much better. We will be here until I look stable for at least 24 hours, but Avery and Katie are safe and happy, Lily is healthy, and I am well cared for.
We've been warned we may have a rough several weeks or even months ahead getting me back to normal, but this thanksgiving holiday, I am still so, so thankful. I'm thankful for the Comerfords and the Shanks for loving on our sweet Avery when we couldn't, and for the Voricks for letting Katie be part of their family at their farm for Thanksgiving week. I'm thankful for my husband, who has
stayed by my side for well over half a decade and walked so closely through the last weeks and months with me. I'm thankful for doctors who have been part of allowing us the privilege of meeting and parenting Lily. I'm thankful for support from family, and I'm thankful for the opportunity to chronicle this journey here and experience all the love, acceptance, and prayers I've received from you who read it. Most of all, I'm thankful for Jesus, to whom we have prayed so fervently over the last 9 months. Without knowing Him, and being able to trust, albeit imperfectly, that He is in control, there would not have been any joy in this journey.
I will post when we are safely home, but after that, I may take a little break from blogging and invest the time in mothering and getting well. Please continue to remember us in your prayers as we try to heal and adjust.
I hope each of you had a holiday as rich in thanksgiving as ours.
Thursday, November 17, 2011
Uncomfortable
I am trying to cement in my mind that tomorrow will be the climax of the amazing testimony of Lily's life, and I'm struggling. I'm vacillating between confidently knowing The Gracious God Who Loves Us is in ultimate control, and panicking at all the possible outcomes. I've shed more than a few anxious, scared tears today. I suppose that's pretty normal, if there is a normal for this situation.
In the event that you've not followed the blog from the beginning, here's a very condensed recap: Lily was found to have a large cystic hygroma and fetal hydrops at 11 weeks gestation. She was given a 1 in 3000 chance of surviving even to birth. She has completely defied all the odds. Her hygroma shrunk and her hydrops resolved. She has no detectable chromosomal abnormalities and looks great on ultrasound. I give God all the glory for these miracles and am so thankful for all who have prayed for Lily.
Our physicians have told us repeatedly that not everything is visible on ultrasound, and there are many things we won't know until Lily arrives. Tomorrow, we will know. When we first were told there were problems, I struggled with not knowing, not being in control. I learned, over a long stretch of time, to surrender this worry to God, and I found joy in Him and His creation of Lily's life in my womb. We've celebrated her life every step of the way. I've grown past worrying about not knowing.
Now, tonight, I'm terrified about knowing. I sort of would rather go on not knowing. I'm comfortable here. But I know God doesn't call us to a life of comfort. I'm learning this in this situation and several others. There's no change or growth in comfort. What amazing testimonies of who God is have you heard from people who have always been comfortable? What men and women of faith do you remember from the Bible being comfortable? I'm pretty convinced that to really experience God moving in my life, I have to be at least willing to be intensely uncomfortable.
When you pray for us tonight, and early tomorrow when Lily comes out to meet us, please do pray she is strong and healthy and untainted by any of her earlier problems. Please do pray for my health and safety. Don't linger too long, though, praying for our comfort. Pray instead that God is glorified in whatever happens, and that we have the strength of faith to embrace Him in whatever circumstance awaits us.
In the event that you've not followed the blog from the beginning, here's a very condensed recap: Lily was found to have a large cystic hygroma and fetal hydrops at 11 weeks gestation. She was given a 1 in 3000 chance of surviving even to birth. She has completely defied all the odds. Her hygroma shrunk and her hydrops resolved. She has no detectable chromosomal abnormalities and looks great on ultrasound. I give God all the glory for these miracles and am so thankful for all who have prayed for Lily.
Our physicians have told us repeatedly that not everything is visible on ultrasound, and there are many things we won't know until Lily arrives. Tomorrow, we will know. When we first were told there were problems, I struggled with not knowing, not being in control. I learned, over a long stretch of time, to surrender this worry to God, and I found joy in Him and His creation of Lily's life in my womb. We've celebrated her life every step of the way. I've grown past worrying about not knowing.
Now, tonight, I'm terrified about knowing. I sort of would rather go on not knowing. I'm comfortable here. But I know God doesn't call us to a life of comfort. I'm learning this in this situation and several others. There's no change or growth in comfort. What amazing testimonies of who God is have you heard from people who have always been comfortable? What men and women of faith do you remember from the Bible being comfortable? I'm pretty convinced that to really experience God moving in my life, I have to be at least willing to be intensely uncomfortable.
When you pray for us tonight, and early tomorrow when Lily comes out to meet us, please do pray she is strong and healthy and untainted by any of her earlier problems. Please do pray for my health and safety. Don't linger too long, though, praying for our comfort. Pray instead that God is glorified in whatever happens, and that we have the strength of faith to embrace Him in whatever circumstance awaits us.
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
Almost Time!
I've not posted in a while because there has really not been any news to impart, but actually, not having anything to say IS news! Lily is still tucked away at almost 39 weeks, and we've not been back to the hospital in two weeks. I hope to stay away till Lily's scheduled arrival this Friday morning. I've followed orders and stayed on rest (lounging on the couch and not going anywhere) every day, and it has slowed the contractions and kept my blood pressure at least out of the danger zone. Most weekdays, Mario has gone to work, Avery has spent at least part of the day with our sitter, Katie has been at school and riding, and I have watched a lot of HGTV. I didn't think anyone would be interested in g what I learned from Design on a Dime or Candice Tells All. The shows did inspire some serious nesting, so my poor, sweet, ever-accommodating husband has painted, organized, assembled, labeled, and cleaned for hours and without a word of complaint. His biggest accomplishment was re-upholstering my grandmother's bench, which was covered in purple flame stitch fabric. It's hanging out inside the front door now, sporting a very current beige, chocolate, and blue/green suzani pattern. I'm pretty proud of this project, because the cost was less than $10.
My good friend Jenn asked yesterday how I was feeling. My response was "puffy, anxious, hopeful, excited, nervous, tired, and thankful.". Probably more than she bargained for, but I was her roommate long ago, so she knows my annoying tendency toward hyper-verbose descriptions of feelings. No one will ever catch me saying "fine," which is NOT a feeling.
Most of my remaining anxiety is about the actual c-section. I hate hospitals, needles, beeping noises, bright lights, and drugs. More on the history of that another time. I have a combination of peace and excitement about meeting Lily. Even the Dr's constant reminders that something may still be very wrong haven't phased me lately. I KNOW God has a plan for Lily. He tells me so every time she kicks, when she gets the hiccups in my belly, and each week when I hear her sweet heartbeat. This week, we got one final 3-D peek of her curled up inside me. She has huge, chunky cheeks and is almost 8 lbs! In one picture, she was winking at us, one eye open and one shut. She almost looked mischievous.
Please pray for Lily and me, and for the doctors at St Luke's and TX Children's this Friday morning. We have so much to be thankful for this season, including your faithful prayers for us.
My good friend Jenn asked yesterday how I was feeling. My response was "puffy, anxious, hopeful, excited, nervous, tired, and thankful.". Probably more than she bargained for, but I was her roommate long ago, so she knows my annoying tendency toward hyper-verbose descriptions of feelings. No one will ever catch me saying "fine," which is NOT a feeling.
Most of my remaining anxiety is about the actual c-section. I hate hospitals, needles, beeping noises, bright lights, and drugs. More on the history of that another time. I have a combination of peace and excitement about meeting Lily. Even the Dr's constant reminders that something may still be very wrong haven't phased me lately. I KNOW God has a plan for Lily. He tells me so every time she kicks, when she gets the hiccups in my belly, and each week when I hear her sweet heartbeat. This week, we got one final 3-D peek of her curled up inside me. She has huge, chunky cheeks and is almost 8 lbs! In one picture, she was winking at us, one eye open and one shut. She almost looked mischievous.
Please pray for Lily and me, and for the doctors at St Luke's and TX Children's this Friday morning. We have so much to be thankful for this season, including your faithful prayers for us.
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
No Baby
We thought we were having a baby yesterday. We told everyone she was coming, repacked bags for each family member, made arrangements for Katie and for Avery, called family to tell them when to come, froze the meat in the fridge, and cancelled anything that was planned for the rest of the week. All indications at the OB’s office on Monday morning were that I had preeclampsia, and Lily needed to be delivered pretty quickly. We prayed, and worked really hard to wrap our brains around Lily coming yesterday. I felt pretty prepared and really had a peace about her arrival. It didn’t happen.
We checked in to the hospital, as instructed, at 8:45 After I was on the monitor, in a gown, with an IV, my last lab test came back. It was very unexpectedly normal. Last year, this would not have mattered. This year, there are strict guidelines in place for OBs about when they can and can’t deliver a baby. Very specific criteria have to be met to deliver a baby before 39 weeks, and that one test was part of the criteria.
While all the medical folks were chatting about what to do with me, I started having contractions again on the monitor – every 2-3 minutes. “Looks like you are going in to labor on your own!” they said. “You can’t go home like that, so we are just going to keep you here and see what you do.” Hours later – no labor. Just loads of preterm contractions. By about 7 pm, my OB, the high risk OB, and the high risk OB’s nurse all showed up to stare at me and talk about what to do. The high risk OB won, and we were put BACK on contraction slowing meds, and told we could go home if Lily and I did OK on overnight monitoring. I thanked them for their watchful and attentive care, nodded, and waved as the forum walked out the door. Then, I had a meltdown. A two year old, irrational, snot dripping, whiney, unlady-like, and very, very therapeutic meltdown. It went something like this:
Me: I hate it here. It’s hot. This bed is awful. I want my own bed! I hate being connected to all these wires and tubes! I miss Avery. I HATE hospitals! I hate needles! I feel this needle in my arm and it’s stupid that I have to have it when we aren’t having a baby. It’s stupid that I have to be here at all! I want to go home!
Mario: Do you want me to see if they could bring you a fan, sweetie?
Me: I hate fans! They dry out my contacts and make my skin itch. I am gross. I am huge, and puffy, and sweaty, and dirty, and gross, and I want to go home. I can’t have a baby. What was I thinking? I can’t deal with the pain. I’m a wimp. Wimps shouldn’t be allowed to have babies………..
Poor Mario
I did eventually calm down. I talked to the nurse, who had heard the same tirade, verbatim, about 15,000 times and brought me a fan and some Tylenol. I prayed. Mario prayed, and quit speaking since he wasn’t making much headway. I think we slept a combined total of 4 hours.
My OB came in at 7 am and told us to go home. As long as my pressure stays down, I am off of bed rest, and just on “rest.” She advised us to go out for dinner tonight. It’s actually my birthday.
Though it’s driving both Mario and I nuts to be on this rollercoaster, we know that we are not the first riders. We also know that God knows better than anyone else when Lily should come. Feel free to keep reminding me of this when I start to forget and think that I know best.
I’m so sorry we got everyone excited that she was coming yesterday- again. The outpouring of support was so sweet. We are so, so blessed to have the friends and family we do. I can’t wait for everyone to meet Lily and Lily to experience all the love that is waiting to be shown her. I will definitely keep you posted about how GOD’s plan for her birth unfolds.
We checked in to the hospital, as instructed, at 8:45 After I was on the monitor, in a gown, with an IV, my last lab test came back. It was very unexpectedly normal. Last year, this would not have mattered. This year, there are strict guidelines in place for OBs about when they can and can’t deliver a baby. Very specific criteria have to be met to deliver a baby before 39 weeks, and that one test was part of the criteria.
While all the medical folks were chatting about what to do with me, I started having contractions again on the monitor – every 2-3 minutes. “Looks like you are going in to labor on your own!” they said. “You can’t go home like that, so we are just going to keep you here and see what you do.” Hours later – no labor. Just loads of preterm contractions. By about 7 pm, my OB, the high risk OB, and the high risk OB’s nurse all showed up to stare at me and talk about what to do. The high risk OB won, and we were put BACK on contraction slowing meds, and told we could go home if Lily and I did OK on overnight monitoring. I thanked them for their watchful and attentive care, nodded, and waved as the forum walked out the door. Then, I had a meltdown. A two year old, irrational, snot dripping, whiney, unlady-like, and very, very therapeutic meltdown. It went something like this:
Me: I hate it here. It’s hot. This bed is awful. I want my own bed! I hate being connected to all these wires and tubes! I miss Avery. I HATE hospitals! I hate needles! I feel this needle in my arm and it’s stupid that I have to have it when we aren’t having a baby. It’s stupid that I have to be here at all! I want to go home!
Mario: Do you want me to see if they could bring you a fan, sweetie?
Me: I hate fans! They dry out my contacts and make my skin itch. I am gross. I am huge, and puffy, and sweaty, and dirty, and gross, and I want to go home. I can’t have a baby. What was I thinking? I can’t deal with the pain. I’m a wimp. Wimps shouldn’t be allowed to have babies………..
Poor Mario
I did eventually calm down. I talked to the nurse, who had heard the same tirade, verbatim, about 15,000 times and brought me a fan and some Tylenol. I prayed. Mario prayed, and quit speaking since he wasn’t making much headway. I think we slept a combined total of 4 hours.
My OB came in at 7 am and told us to go home. As long as my pressure stays down, I am off of bed rest, and just on “rest.” She advised us to go out for dinner tonight. It’s actually my birthday.
Though it’s driving both Mario and I nuts to be on this rollercoaster, we know that we are not the first riders. We also know that God knows better than anyone else when Lily should come. Feel free to keep reminding me of this when I start to forget and think that I know best.
I’m so sorry we got everyone excited that she was coming yesterday- again. The outpouring of support was so sweet. We are so, so blessed to have the friends and family we do. I can’t wait for everyone to meet Lily and Lily to experience all the love that is waiting to be shown her. I will definitely keep you posted about how GOD’s plan for her birth unfolds.
Monday, October 31, 2011
Happy Halloween!
Happy Halloween, everyone!
Tomorrow?
We very likely will meet Lily tomorrow! We went to the OB this morning, and I am SO glad that she and my high risk doc are back in town. I made it through the whole week without them last week, but started not feeling right yesterday. My blood pressure started going up, I was seeing spots, and I looked puffier than I ever remember looking pregnant. My OB saw me and said I either already have preeclampsia or it is setting in and ordered a test that takes 24 hours to assess how bad it is. We talked her into letting us go home for the time being, and check in to the hospital tomorrow morning unless things take a turn for the worse. I so wanted to see Avery in her costume. I am seeming to get worse, but not bad enough yet to warrant going in.
My OB told us it is very, very likely Lily is coming tomorrow. She took me off all of the contraction stopping meds, and also, they won't let me try to carry her longer with preeclampsia. It's just too risky. We are praying we make it through the night. I'm anxious and excited. Lily is still about a half week shy of full term, but we got a lot further than we did with Avery and the preeclampsia I had with her. I pray Lily arrives truly having defied all the odds - completely without any defect - internal or external. Please pray with us for this.
My OB told us it is very, very likely Lily is coming tomorrow. She took me off all of the contraction stopping meds, and also, they won't let me try to carry her longer with preeclampsia. It's just too risky. We are praying we make it through the night. I'm anxious and excited. Lily is still about a half week shy of full term, but we got a lot further than we did with Avery and the preeclampsia I had with her. I pray Lily arrives truly having defied all the odds - completely without any defect - internal or external. Please pray with us for this.
Friday, October 28, 2011
Documenting
In late September, we had some really special photos taken. We had settled into the house, finished all the renovations our budget would allow (plus some unexpected ones), and generally calmed down. This left me lots of time and mental space to think about Lily coming. Everything was looking fabulous on her ultrasounds, and I know God is capable of delivering to us a perfectly healthy baby despite all the early indications that she is very sick, but I felt a need to do some preparing. I wanted to be sure that no matter what the outcome of her birth, we had documentation of her life inside me and the joy she has brought us.
Our good friend, Veronica, who works at Early Childhood Intervention, and has been Avery’s developmental specialist since birth, put us in touch with an amazing woman. Jennifer Maler (Red Balloon Photography) gladly took on the task of documenting Lily’s life and did so with compassion, sympathy, and an incredible ability to capture emotion. She also realized, more than I did, the need to include Mario and Avery in many of these photos rather than just take shots of my humungous tummy. She even snuck in a few candid pictures of Avery that are now some of our favorite photos. I regret that we didn’t have Katie with us so she could be in them too.
I’m still at home on modified bed rest, and so thankful to have made it almost another full week with Lily tucked safely inside. My Dr. will be back Sunday and I see her Monday morning. The plan is that she will be taking me off all my contraction stopping meds, and as soon as Lily tells us it’s time, we will let her come on out via c-section. Monday is Halloween, and Wednesday is my birthday, so Tuesday would be nice, but we would be happy to meet her any day of the week. I hope and pray that we will soon be sharing tons of new baby pics of Lily, so I want to make sure we get these precious photos shared now:
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
Stone Cold Normal
The last few weeks have really been tiring. Here’s the update: Right now, we are 35 weeks and 5 days pregnant. I’ve been having preterm contractions of varying intensities and at varying intervals for the last two weeks, but we have managed to keep Lily safe in my belly with a combination of hospital bed rest, home bed rest, and various medications to slow down the contractions and keep me from going into labor. The goal is to keep her in until at least Sunday night so that: 1. Her lungs can further develop, and 2. My doctor and my high risk OB are back in town. They are presently attending a conference in the Bahamas. With all of Lily’s issues, I would rather she not be delivered by an on-call Dr. from another practice, no matter how competent he is.
I’m at home now, and am intensely frustrated to not be able to do very much on modified bed rest. I especially miss my time with Avery during the day. I am so grateful to be out of the hospital, though. Some of those exhausted and devoted mommies on the antepartum unit had been there for 12 weeks! I can’t imagine being away from my family and lying in a bed in a hospital for 12 weeks. Thinking about this makes our situation seem much more palatable.
We are managing pretty well with some help. Avery stays with her usual sitter during the day, and Mario has cancelled some work and revised his schedule at the church so that he can be home in the evenings. A good friend of ours is giving Katie a lot of extra attention and school help. I’ve done all of the family meal planning from my reclining command post. I tell Mario what to buy and give step by step instructions on how to prepare it. I’ve found he has a lot more cooking skill than he has ever let on. I’m usually the chef in our house, but he may be making dinner a little more often now that his secret is out. With a little coaching, he can make a lot more than brownies and breakfast foods! He really is such a multi-talented man.
Lots of people have offered to bring us a meal, but because we are doing OK for now, we’ve asked them to wait until after Lily comes, when we will undoubtedly need ALL of those dinners. Thanks, friends! We are so blessed to have you all in our lives, praying for us and giving us practical help during this time.
Yesterday, when we saw our OB, she reminded us that Lily may still have significant problems. She explained, again, that though Lily looks, as she always says, “stone cold normal” now, we still do not know what caused her cystic hygroma and her hydrops earlier in the pregnancy. We may never know. She may come out and actually be, medically “stone cold normal,” but we’ve been duly reminded that we do not have assurance of this. Because we are lacking this worldly assurance, I am clinging to those things of which I can always be assured: God loves us and has a plan for our lives. This includes Lily, no matter how long, or short, or difficult, or simple her life might be.
In my eyes, Lily could never be “stone cold normal.” Her life is a miracle. She was created and sustained in my womb by God despite what anyone predicted for her. She has brought joy and depth to my life and the lives of countless others. I would much rather she has this legacy, no matter what may lie ahead for her, than she be “normal.” I do pray, though, that God would allow her physical and cognitive health as part of her testimony. Thank you for continuing to pray for her with us. I will keep you posted!
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
Feeling Funny
I’ve been meaning to post and share that my blood pressure has been great. In fact, it started going down almost as soon as I published the last post. Thanks, thanks, thanks for the prayers. We have some great prayer warriors out there.
Today, we spent a good portion of the day in labor and delivery. We were not on a tour. I started feeling funny last night, but thought it was the chili I had made, because Mario felt a little funny too. By about 2 am, I was complaining that my stomach felt like it was cramping and I wondered a little if this could be what contractions feel like. I didn’t have them with Avery at all before her C-Section. They stopped early this morning, so I did two loads of laundry, baked a chicken, and played baby doll with Avery. We’re working on not stabbing the baby in the eye with the toy bottle. The weird feelings started up again a few hours later, and by the time I put Avery down for nap at noon, I could tell that something really might be wrong. I’d been trying to tell myself it wasn’t for over half a day. I don’t know why I always try to talk myself out of things being really wrong. I don’t think this way often, and I usually am right to begin with.
Today, we spent a good portion of the day in labor and delivery. We were not on a tour. I started feeling funny last night, but thought it was the chili I had made, because Mario felt a little funny too. By about 2 am, I was complaining that my stomach felt like it was cramping and I wondered a little if this could be what contractions feel like. I didn’t have them with Avery at all before her C-Section. They stopped early this morning, so I did two loads of laundry, baked a chicken, and played baby doll with Avery. We’re working on not stabbing the baby in the eye with the toy bottle. The weird feelings started up again a few hours later, and by the time I put Avery down for nap at noon, I could tell that something really might be wrong. I’d been trying to tell myself it wasn’t for over half a day. I don’t know why I always try to talk myself out of things being really wrong. I don’t think this way often, and I usually am right to begin with.
The doctor’s office was closed for lunch, so I decided to put sleeping Avery in the car and head that direction since it’s a 30 minute drive and they would be back in by the time I arrived. Mario had a lunch break and said he could meet me there. I assumed I would get checked out, told I was imagining things, and sent home. Nope. We landed in labor and delivery observation at Women’s Hospital. The funny feelings were big contractions that, when we arrived there, were about 6 minutes apart, and within a half hour, were 3-5 minutes apart. I don’t know if seeing them on a screen made them feel worse, or they actually got stronger, but I was not comfortable. Gentle, nurturing Mario patted me and asked if I would like to squeeze his hand. I had never, until that moment, understood why women in labor in movies always sound so angry. I told Mario that I did not want to squeeze his hand; I wanted to kick him. I would have said other things, but Avery was still there. My sweet friend Heather picked her up a few minutes later, and I got to quit fake smiling and gritting my teeth. And then the first contraction-stopping injection (yes, first) kicked in. I felt like I was having a contraction, but that my stomach was full of fuzzy caterpillars, or sliced kiwi, or maybe moth balls. I asked the nurse if this was normal, and she assured me that though she had never heard it described that way, it was completely normal. I wasn’t able to be so creatively descriptive with the second shot. More caterpillars, but my heart also started beating a million (120) beats per minute. I’ve never experienced a panic attack, but I now know that all that good self- talk I preach about is really pretty useless at that moment. God talk works a lot better. I did a lot of talking to God. I asked him to please keep Lily safe, to quiet my heart, remove the caterpillars, and spare me the dreaded third shot with which I was being threatened. He did. In fact, we didn’t see another contraction on the screen that hour, and were sent home.
We’re home now. Avery is wearing Mario’s baseball cap and ripping up a catalogue; I’ve sent Mario back to the store for the second time to grab yet another item I forgot earlier this week, and Katie is at a football game with some friends of ours.
I’m always thrilled when God shows off what He can do in our lives and I get to be part of it, but I’d like to not repeat the events of this particular day. Could you please talk to God for us? Ask him to quiet my heart, keep Lily safe, and let us stay home a few weeks longer?
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