That day was more special than most because my sister from Florida, Jess, and her family (Chuck and my little God-daughter, Luci) were flying in for the summer. For those of you that know Jessi, she is intensely familial and wanted to fly in the day I PPROMed to be supportive, but wasn't able to due to work...and the fact that I told her not to come (let's be honest, there was nothing anyone could do to help). I was both anticipating this day and dreading it all at the same time...you see, Jessi is also pregnant...Her due date is three weeks after mine, so seeing her pregnant really hit home. We found out that she is also having a boy the day after I PPROMed. It's a delicate balance when it comes to family. On one hand, you are so happy for them. On the other you play the "it's not fair" game. Everything is fine with her pregnancy, why did this happen to us? Why did God make Gabriel go through all of this hardship? It just wasn't fair. Well, Krissi, face the music, life's not fair. God did have a plan for Gabriel, and me, and Trent. This was part of it. Emotional crisis averted.
A few hours after the ultrasound, the troops arrived and we had a nice visit with Luci :). At some point, I got up to go to the bathroom. When I stood up, I had the familiar feeling of "leaking", which was strange, because that morning, the tech had told me there was no measurable fluid. Maybe I "tinkled" myself. To avoid any wierdness, I didn't mention it while everyone was around. They soon decided they were hungry and headed off to Muncie, while Trent and I ordered some lunch. Our nurse came in to do her normal "vitals" check and listened to Gabriel's heart rate - in the 150s. Perfect. I casually mentioned the fluid leak, and that it was business as usual, just a little heavier. She put me on the toco monitor to check for contractions. Nothing. In the four weeks I had been there, I hadn't any contractions or labor, so this is not suprising. They just continued to watch it.
Lunch arrived and we began to eat, but the bathroom summoned again. I went in and for the first time since I was admitted, there was a little pinkness when I was finished. Strange but not uncommon for the cervix to bleed a little. I notified the nurse. Gabriel and I went back on the monitor to look for HR and contractions. He was still little, so it was necessary to find the "sweet spot" and hold it just so or else he would hide. Nurses are trained to do this, but Gabriel was inside of me...and I knew where he was. The nurse couldn't find him, but I adjusted the belt and got his HR right away. Stable. However, they were unable to get a continuous reading...he kept squirming away. Nurse: "Just keep eating, we will watch the contraction monitor from outisde, but the baby looks good." I specifically remember Trent's sigh of relief, because I asked, "What was that about?" He said, "Just relieved that its nothing." But it had scared him, and his tummy was revolting. He left to find a bathroom I wouldn't have to smell...
After he left, our room became a bustle of people. Side note: Our room was considered "the easy" assignment for four weeks. They barely had to come in at all, because Trent did everything for me, so the fact that there was more than one person in the room should have alarmed us. One of the nurses informed me that I was having contractions every three minutes. We had seen nothing on the monitor and I felt nothing, except I did have to go to the bathroom again. This time it wasn't pink when I glance in the bowl. IT WAS RED. Basics: Red = never good when you are pregnant. Systematically, I didn't flush so it could be recorded. My OB came in, looked at the blood, and then tried to put Gabriel on the heart rate monitor. She only got blips, and then he would move. Inability to monitor his HR + contractions every two minutes + blood = possible placental abruption. Immediate delivery. Trent was still not in the room.
By the time he returned, there were three nurses and an anesthesiologist in the room. Putting in lines, handing consents, explaining procedures. I remember the anesthesiologist asked me at least 20 times if I was diabetic....After the 20th time, I said, "No, STILL NOT". As we were about to wheel out of the room, I asked Trent, "Do you know what's happening?" He looked at me with a blank stare, and I told him, "They are going to deliver him....start calling people." I can't imagine how scared he must have been at that moment. I knew in my heart that this is what we had been praying for...the Lord knew what we didn't. Maybe Gabriel was in trouble. Perhaps he was close to his cord. God chose this day for him to be born and I felt a peace that this was right. Evidence: my OB was going on vacation tomorrow. The neonatologist on call was Dr. Edwards - who had guided us through the weeks of doom when we were first admitted. The right team was assembled and ready.
Not to say that the procedure wasn't scary. I know the surgery protocol. "Scoot on to the table, make sure you are in the middle." My OB saw me roll my eyes when the anesthesiologist said, "little bee sting" when she gave me the lidocaine (numbing medicine) for my spinal block (I was just happy that she had stopped asking me if I was diabetic!) Although the spinal worked right away, it was an eerie feeling that you can't feel parts of your body, but then again you can. They call it "just pressure". I call it wierd. Trent was then allowed back in the room, and as soon as I saw him relief flooded over me. He looked how I felt - scared. He kept it together, held my hand, and was my source of strength.
A few minutes went by with increasing "pressure" that began radiating to my lungs. Just when I was most uncomfortable, my OB said, "Definitely a boy. He's with the team now." I immediately told Trent to go and be with him. We didn't know what his status was, he might be intubated immediately, he might not make it. I wanted Trent to be with him no matter what was going to happen - he would always know his parents were THERE. A few minutes later, an isolette came by while they were closing me up, and I was able to see my son. My son. He was here. And so far, he was a fighter. And I was in love. He was small, just 2 pounds (920 grams) and he was in what appeared to be a gallon size Ziplock bag. But he had been successfully resuscitated and was on CPAP (a mask that covers the nose and delivers continuous positive airway pressure). His team then rushed him to the NICU, where his journey would begin, and make the past four weeks look like a day at the beach.
I couldn't stop shaking. Trent went with Gabriel to the NICU, and I was alone with strangers. My nose was so itchy. Back in my room, they were packing up four weeks of accumulated gifts, blankets, food, clothes, movies, etc and moving us to a post partum room 1/4th of the size. That didn't deter the family from being there. When I was wheeled into my new room looking a hot mess, everyone was there and pretended not to notice. They were all joyful at the birth of our son, and Gabriel deserved it - to be celebrated and not pitied for what he would go through next. Vickie Spangler even had a shirt for Trent to wear proudly.....
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