Milestones (Part Two)
Today I am 27 weeks and 6 days through this pregnancy. My baby is still so far away from being able to survive by him/herself outside my womb. This is how old our son G was when he was introduced to this world.
My womb was not a suitable home for him anymore. Since my water broke at 20 weeks gestation (Premature Rupture of Membranes), my body just couldn't rebuild the amniotic fluid needed to sustain the little guy. I was put on hospital bedrest. I drank more water than I cared to drink in order to keep myself hydrated, hoping to rebuild fluid faster. I only went to the bathroom and took a shower when it was absolutely necessary. Even with all these precautions, I was still leaking fluid, and there were a few times that I started spotting and bleeding.
The night before G was born was one of those times. Except this time, I started to have contractions as well. We watched and waited all night long. I thank God that my husband was there. See, he travelled for work and our home was an hour away. It was a Sunday night, and for some forgotten reason he wasn't planning on going into work that Monday. Although I wasn't completely alone, it makes a big difference that your husband is there when they tell you the nurse is coming to prep you for an emergency surgery.
I didn't know what to expect. My husband made the necessary calls to our parents. They wheeled me away. Miraculously my husband was there as the doctors cut my baby out. He was my rock, advocating for me, telling them to give me something so I wouldn't vomit, stroking my hand that was contractured from the ongoing blood pressure readings, looking and listening for our baby to cry.
He did! He cried - well, squealed a little - but he cried. He filled his own lungs with air. Then he was promptly intubated, checked over, they paused for half a second on the way out the door so I could glance at him, and then he was wheeled away to the NICU. The blessed souls that work in the NICU are a whole other post, my friends. It would be an understatement to say that I am thankful for them!
So why am I telling this story? I want you to know that this happens. I want you to know that our G is a miracle. I want you to realize that having babies is a trememdous blessing, a gift that should never be taken for granted and always received with love. I want you to know that I'm scared right now, and I'm asking you to pray for me to have peace and trust in our Father.
I would love to be fearless, for I know that fear does not come from God.
As I hit this momentous milestone in my life yet again, I thank God for another opportunity. I'm alive another day. My baby is kicking happily as I drink an iced coffee from my favorite glass. I thank God for the suffering he allowed me to have back then.
How can you be thankful for suffering, Jennifer? you might say. Well, it is through those times of uncertainty, sadness, and pain that I can remember how much God loves me. Right now, I'm listening to my youngest MCADDer sing in the bathroom...because our Michael died, which led us to come to know about MCADD, which prompted us to test each subsequent child for the disorder. In a sense, he died to save the lives of three of his siblings, and maybe so many more babies. I'm thankful for those memories of pumping and bottle feeding G every three hours for months, just to keep him alive. I remember how hard it was to live with my parents again and rarely see my husband for those seven weeks that G was in the NICU. I remember how painful it was to show up at the wrong time to G's incubator, a "no touching" time, and only be able to watch him and the machines that were keeping him alive. So yes, I am thankful for the suffering, for through suffering I was able to let God carry me through this mess.
He was molding me. I was chosen for this, and I must receive it, for I am called to give Him glory, wherever I am.
My womb was not a suitable home for him anymore. Since my water broke at 20 weeks gestation (Premature Rupture of Membranes), my body just couldn't rebuild the amniotic fluid needed to sustain the little guy. I was put on hospital bedrest. I drank more water than I cared to drink in order to keep myself hydrated, hoping to rebuild fluid faster. I only went to the bathroom and took a shower when it was absolutely necessary. Even with all these precautions, I was still leaking fluid, and there were a few times that I started spotting and bleeding.
The night before G was born was one of those times. Except this time, I started to have contractions as well. We watched and waited all night long. I thank God that my husband was there. See, he travelled for work and our home was an hour away. It was a Sunday night, and for some forgotten reason he wasn't planning on going into work that Monday. Although I wasn't completely alone, it makes a big difference that your husband is there when they tell you the nurse is coming to prep you for an emergency surgery.
I didn't know what to expect. My husband made the necessary calls to our parents. They wheeled me away. Miraculously my husband was there as the doctors cut my baby out. He was my rock, advocating for me, telling them to give me something so I wouldn't vomit, stroking my hand that was contractured from the ongoing blood pressure readings, looking and listening for our baby to cry.
He did! He cried - well, squealed a little - but he cried. He filled his own lungs with air. Then he was promptly intubated, checked over, they paused for half a second on the way out the door so I could glance at him, and then he was wheeled away to the NICU. The blessed souls that work in the NICU are a whole other post, my friends. It would be an understatement to say that I am thankful for them!
So why am I telling this story? I want you to know that this happens. I want you to know that our G is a miracle. I want you to realize that having babies is a trememdous blessing, a gift that should never be taken for granted and always received with love. I want you to know that I'm scared right now, and I'm asking you to pray for me to have peace and trust in our Father.
I would love to be fearless, for I know that fear does not come from God.
As I hit this momentous milestone in my life yet again, I thank God for another opportunity. I'm alive another day. My baby is kicking happily as I drink an iced coffee from my favorite glass. I thank God for the suffering he allowed me to have back then.
How can you be thankful for suffering, Jennifer? you might say. Well, it is through those times of uncertainty, sadness, and pain that I can remember how much God loves me. Right now, I'm listening to my youngest MCADDer sing in the bathroom...because our Michael died, which led us to come to know about MCADD, which prompted us to test each subsequent child for the disorder. In a sense, he died to save the lives of three of his siblings, and maybe so many more babies. I'm thankful for those memories of pumping and bottle feeding G every three hours for months, just to keep him alive. I remember how hard it was to live with my parents again and rarely see my husband for those seven weeks that G was in the NICU. I remember how painful it was to show up at the wrong time to G's incubator, a "no touching" time, and only be able to watch him and the machines that were keeping him alive. So yes, I am thankful for the suffering, for through suffering I was able to let God carry me through this mess.
He was molding me. I was chosen for this, and I must receive it, for I am called to give Him glory, wherever I am.
Thank you for sharing something so painful so others can improve their faith, learn & gain knowledge.
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