Every year, on both Gabriel and Isaac's birthdays, I remember their births and I am reminded of how much their journey's shape my own life. They make me remember pain, fear, sacrifices and joy and most of all Love are all a part of Motherhood. Each emotion has its own special place for helping us grow.
Isaac's birth story is full of fear and pain for me, but it is also one that has taught me a very valuable life lesson. It is no longer a painful memory to me; rather it is one of great gratitude. I wouldn't change his story in any way. Because if I changed even one little part, it wouldn't be Isaac's own unique story. Each piece of his story is like a chapter in his book. His book is one that I can't put down. It has captivated me, taught me and also it has hooked me, through love. I can't imagine loving him any more, and yet somehow, each day, that love grows.
Here is Isaac's birth-day story, 2 years later.
For ten weeks, I had been through so much emotion as I searched google, doctors, hospitals, blogs, but most of all, God for answers for why, how and what to I do? How can I be this child's mother that faces SO many challenges. What is the best thing for him when I know nearly every system in his innocent little body, faces challenges and surgeries ahead. At 30 weeks pregnant, we had found answers. God had led us to the right hospital, the best doctors, and we had had a new found hope, (Dan and I) through God and each other.
For the next few weeks, I tried to enjoy life as much as I could, mostly I did my best to spend the most time I could with my sweet little Gabriel. I knew his life would be turned upside in a matter of weeks. I was sad he would no longer be my only little boy in some ways. I felt a little guilty that I would have to leave him and take care of a newborn. I think in someways, this perhaps was a heightened fear because I had no idea just how long I would need to be with his new brother in the hospital. Gabriel was so sweet and innocent that I didn't want to be torn away from him. We had been so close since his birth, spending every day together. I wasn't sure how our new days would look. But Gabriel had taught me what it meant to be a mother. He showed me that babies need so much work, but the love and joy that they give in return is immeasurable. I loved Gabriel more than words described and without that love, I am not sure how I would have had hope that I needed to as I waited for Isaac.
After my parents came up for the weekend to help me get my nursery ready, Dan and I relaxed outside after they left. I had just turned 34 weeks pregnant that day. We knew that in about 1 week, Gabriel and I would temporarily move to Cincinnati with Dan's parents as we awaited the arrival of Isaac so that he would receive care from Cincinnati Children's Hospital. On a whim, we decided to call our friends and ask if they would babysit Gabriel while we went out to dinner together. I think we both knew we needed an evening just to be a couple before everything changed in our lives. Our dear friends graciously watched Gabriel that night and Dan and I went to a quaint restaurant. It felt good to get ready and dress up a little.
It was a beautiful, summer evening and not very warm so we sat comfortably on the patio. I can't remember what we ordered, but I do remember that shortly after that I began to feel cramps. I tried to push it aside as Braxton Hicks, but something told me this was more than that. As we sat and ate, my "braxton hicks" contractions became more frequent and more intense. As lovely as our dinner was, we had to cut it short because I just wasn't feeling right. We picked up Gabriel and called my OB. Because it was the weekend, I reached a doctor that wasn't even part of my doctors practice and I am certain he had never heard of OEIS, but I hoped that he would understand my concern. He felt that I was probably dehydrated, but told me to go to the the OB floor and he would call ahead to let them know I was coming.
Fortunately, Dan's sister and her husband rushed over to watch Gabriel. They camped out on our couch with him and we headed downtown to Grant Hospital. Luckily, they did get me in right away and treated me well. They checked out the baby, my contractions and after about 6 hours and an IV fluid treatment, discharged me at 2 am saying I was probably dehydrated......
I had a feeling though, this was not dehydration. I hoped it was, but in my heart, I knew this baby was trying to come. The next day was filled with more contractions, calls between 3 different doctors offices (My OB, my high-risk OB, and the new high risk doctors in Cincinnati that would eventually deliver my baby); all gave me different advice on what to do. Because I was delivering in Cincinnati, but hadn't met those doctors yet (I was suppose to in 4 days), it complicated things. The best way to describe how we felt that day was panicked. Finally, despite advice to go to the ER, we took our chances around 4 that evening, packed our car up, loaded in Gabriel and said good-bye to our house for awhile. I knew as we headed down the street it might be a long time before I arrived home, but I was too busy focusing on being calm and counting contractions to really be sad about that.
We made it to Cincinnati and Dan's Dad made us a delicious dinner; only I couldn't eat anything. I could tell that things were progressing and that I should probably call the doctor. We quickly headed to Good Samaritan Hospital. It's hard to exactly remember what was going on in my head at that moment, but I do remember Dan and I discussing that we needed to have drugs to stop this labor. It was too early for our baby to arrive.
After what seemed like eternity (probably at least 3 hours), a resident finally checked me and cheerfully said, oh yes, you are progressed and are at 4 cm. I can get the OR ready. (We had already decided a C-Section would be the best option for Isaac). Woah! No, there is no way we are having this baby tonight. After Dan talking (shouting) with (at) the resident, we received a little more care and urgency in this matter. After that, began the three days of blur to me.
They immediately admitted me and got me hooked up to machines, IV's and gave me quite a few shots. Meds to stop labor. Steroids to help strengthen the baby's lungs should he arrive soon. It all felt awful. The next couple days were long and I felt horrible. I had fear of his birth, but I was also so drugged that about the only thing that felt ok, was sleeping and listening to music. On Thursday, June 16 they had given me my last dose of steroids the night before and decided to wean me off the meds to stop labor. If I went into labor again, he would need to be born. But also, I couldn't leave the hospital until he was born.
This brought a lot of fear. Dan had stayed by my side since we had gotten there. But it could still be a month of being hospitalized. What if Dan left and I went into labor? How could I be in the hospital and only see Gabriel for only a little bit each day. Up until this hospital stay, I had never been away from Gabriel. We figured Dan would go home that evening and come back on the weekend. I would only be one day without him and they we would think about the plan for the next week.
I was finally able to shower that day. Dan bought a beautiful cross at the gift shop that we hung across from my bed in my hospital room. The hospital chaplain came by and did a healing prayer on me (she had also given me a prayer shawl that was knitted by volunteers earlier on Tuesday that I had been clutching since I received it). Perhaps it was in my head, but after that prayer, the soft scent of lavender filled the room. Whatever it was, it gave me a sense of calm. Dan and I sat, listened to music and then we got out our rosaries. My friend's mother had visited the day before and given us both beautiful wooden rosaries. They were very simple, but they were special. They were from Bethlehem and blessed there. I was not Catholic at the time, but I had learned during my pregnancy to pray to the Blessed Mother Mary for her intercession. Praying to Mary brought me such comfort. For I knew that if there is any Mother that must have faced fear and pain by watching her Son suffer, it was Mary. Late that afternoon, Dan and I sat down together, got out our rosaries, and prayed. He taught me how to pray the rosary. It brought us peace. I think that prayer to Mary, helped me to feel like this will be a hard road, but everything would be ok.
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Shortly after that, I started to feel contractions again and throughout the next hour or two, they got stronger and more intense. They kept monitoring the baby and the baby was so stable. My parents called and had said they were on their way down to Cincinnati for the weekend. After a couple more hours, they checked me a learned that I was indeed in labor and progressing. They began prepping the OR. I started to become scared, but somehow it was controlled fear. My only guess is that our Lord was holding me up. I was so scared not only to have a C-Section, but what would be our baby's fate. Would he come out alive? Would he have all the birth defects they suspected? Maybe a miracle would occur and everything would be healed! Regardless, I just told myself to move forward. I couldn't stay in labor, in this hospital forever, nor did I want to. I was exhausted and ready to move on. I wanted to meet this baby. Who would he look like?
Right before I began to walk to down the hall to the OR, my parents arrived. Just in time. I was so glad they were there. I needed them. I gave my mom my rosary and prayer shawl. I knew she would hold on and be praying. At that point, I walked into the OR and just followed all the steps they told me. It felt like forever until Dan was able to come in but finally he made it in and stayed right by me.
I hated to feeling of being strapped to a table, not being in control. Having a C-Section had been one of my biggest fears. All I could think of was, I can do this. I am tough. Then, all I could beg in my head was, please God, let him be alive and well. It is hard to think of that moment. Every time I do, it still brings tears to my eyes, but then I can't help but smile, when I think about the next moment.... hearing his little, but strong cry. He was here! And alive!
The next hour is a blur. They immediately placed his lower half in a sterile plastic bag. They examined him and he indeed did have OEIS complex. His spinal defect was there, but it was covered in skin. (Had it not been covered, he would have needed surgery right away and had more risk for infections like menigitis). His movements were not strong, but he could move his legs and his feet! They brought him over to me finally.
He was tiny. He was beautiful. I knew at that moment, his life might not be how I imagined or prayed it would be, but he would be ok. He was strong. As much as I wanted to heal him, I knew God had other plans for him.... perhaps bigger plans than I could have imagined at that time. I had to surrender myself to God and His plans for Isaac. I had to surrender my ideals of what motherhood would be for me.
At that moment I knew the challenge had begun. God was asking me to be the best mother I could be; for the perfect soul with the imperfect body.
That is the beginning of his story and a huge part of mine. I look at my scar and am reminded of his birth. I am reminded of the fears I have overcome and the strength of this little boy. He goes into surgery like a warrior, comes out with a scar, but most of all, he shares inspiration to so many through his courage.
Most importantly, I have learned about our Lord's sacrifice and love for us all. Our lives do not always play out the way we plan, but if we lean on God, remember the Love and sacrifice of His Son, and trust in His plan, then I know we will find more love and joy than we could imagine. I know this to be true, because it happened to me.
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