The irony of this story taking place only days after my last blog post (linked at the bottom of this post) does not sneak by me. Apparently the Lord wanted to make sure my pregnancy ended as dramatically as my entire pregnancy had been.
The story truly begins exactly one week before I delivered when my doctor said my blood pressure was too high. They tested me for preeclampsia (which came back negative) and told me that if my blood pressure was still too high in a week, they would be sending me to the hospital to be induced.
This was not the worse case scenario, but it wasn't great. I wanted to go into labor on my own and have a smooth natural birth—like anyone would want.
I got to work doing all of the things to keep my blood pressure down.
Less Salt
No caffeine
Staying relaxed
And I even started using spelt flour
Did any of this work? Of course not.
One week later they took my blood pressure and it was even higher.
The doctor walks in: You're having a baby today.
Me: *Bursts into tears because that was not my plan for the day*
The doctor: I promise, this will be the best day of your life.
Me: Or the most painful.
The doctor: The epidural will take care of that.
Except I didn't want an epidural.
We got to the hospital and they tested me for preeclampsia and COVID. They both came back negative and they started the induction process. Following this, labor started quickly and grew in its intensity. They gave me fentanyl to take the edge off the pain which only worked the first time they gave it to me.
The contractions got so bad, so fast. I was screaming and poor Wesley just kept asking me if I was okay.
Me: I am NOT okay, and don't ask again! That will be my answer until this child comes out of me.
It was about this time he called my mother for "phone support". She was on speaker and every time I screamed, "I can't do this" they both yelled back that I was in fact "doing this".
Around 7:45pm, the nurses came to check on me and I was at 6 cm. I needed to be at 10 cm to push, and it was already unbearable. One contraction on top of another with no relief and 15 minutes later, Isaiah's heart rate became erratic and began to drop.
The nurses rushed in and realized that because my contractions were on top of one another, it wasn't giving Isaiah a chance to recover from them. They pulled me up and jabbed a needle into my thigh to slow the contractions, but the heart rate was still dropping.
I was thrown out of the room into an OR for a c–section. I was in this fog of pain and nothing was coming clearly, I could barely open my eyes. A nurse yelled the heartbeat was gone. Surgical tools were being thrown out beside me.
The doctor grabbed my face and said, "I need you to know that what we are doing right now is saving you and your baby's life. Everything is going to be okay."
Moments later, they were seconds away from putting me to sleep and the heart rate shot back up. Everything in that room stopped. Everyone just watching that monitor.
A contraction hit me and I felt my body pushing down on me. I screamed that I felt like I needed to push. The doctor checked me and found that I was at 9cm. They threw me back into the delivery room saying, "She's having this baby, get her back to dad."
This was around 8:30—which means I went from 6cm to 9cm in 45 minutes. This was incredibly fast and a little insane for my body to pull off.
Back in the room, I began pushing. The nurse told me the more I leaned into the pain, the faster it would be over. There was nothing I wanted more in life.
I leaned into that pain and an hour later his head was out. However, the cord was wrapped around his neck and seconds later, his shoulders were stuck.
Someone screamed, "WE NEED HELP."
My nurse jumped on top of me and shoved her hands down on my belly.
The pain. It was excruciating, but he was out and the relief of it was overwhelming.
They held him up and Wesley yelled, "It's a boy!"
But, he wasn't breathing, his poor little lungs were stunned from his dramatic entrance. When they put him on my chest he had a little oxygen plug in his nose, but he was perfect in every way.
He was 9 pounds and 8 ounces and 21.5 inches long (although there is debate about his length now since he was 20 inches at his 2 week check up).
He was quickly whisked off to the NICU seconds after being placed on my chest.
While the doctor was fixing me up, I said, "There was a ton of nurses in here when he came out."
And the doctor said, "Honey, every nurse was in here when he came out."
Once they got me to a recovery room, my nurse wheeled me down to see little Isaiah.
I found myself standing over this tiny human all hooked up to so many wires and a CPAC on his face. Yet, he was the most beautiful and perfect thing I'd ever seen. They handed him to me and he was staring up at me with these big blue eyes. I stared back into them, and I never wanted him to grow up. He was a perfect, innocent, precious gift from God.
When we found out we were pregnant I was so overwhelmed by the monumental discovery. I kept asking Wesley, "What are we going to do?"
But now, as I looked down at Isaiah in my arms, all I could think was, "What would I do without you?"
Isaiah, you are truly my favorite wedding gift.
