My husband, Jacob, and I married in January 2014 in
Nashville, Tennessee. Not long after our wedding, we started to feel like we
were being called to Louisville, Kentucky for Jacob to attend seminary. When it
seemed like we had officially decided to move, we found out I was pregnant. WE
were on a “two year plan,” but obviously God wasn’t, as we had only been
married for 3 months! We were broke newlyweds -- I had lost my full-time job
after we had been married for 2 weeks. Fun
times, right? I had started working at Starbucks and was teaching music
lessons, and I was, unfortunately, without insurance at the time. I tried to
hold off on doctors appointments until the last possible date they gave me,
because my Starbucks insurance was kicking in fairly soon. But not soon enough.
In case you don’t know, Starbucks opens VERY early in the
morning. Also, in case you don’t know, morning sickness in the first trimester
for some women AINT NO JOKE. I spent many a morning shift going back and forth
from the bathroom to the drive thru, where my boss graciously let me have a
stool to sit on during my shifts. I will never forget the sheer horror, though,
as I went to the bathroom one day and found a large amount of blood. I
immediately became hysterical, left work, called my husband, and we met at
Vanderbilt for an emergency ultrasound. I had heard of spotting during
pregnancy, but this was so much more than that, and every part of me thought we
had lost our precious child. “Awww, there it is! Goodness, you have a little
wiggle worm!” Jacob and I both started crying and the huge looming cloud above
our heads disappeared. At least for a week or so. Because this exact situation
happened two. more. times. There was so much anguish… so much crying… so much
rallying of the prayer warriors… so much of Jacob and I praying together in
waiting rooms… so much pleading with God for this craziness and anxiety to
stop… so many uninsured appointments… so many bills. My insurance eventually
kicked in. And I was eventually diagnosed with a Friable Cervix. This basically
means “don’t overdo it or you’re going to end up at an emergency ultrasound,
where everything is probably fine.” I had to learn that myself, though. My
doctor didn’t have much of anything to say about the whole thing. Or anything,
for that matter. Google became my best friend and my worst enemy. Pregnant women, do yourself a favor: DO NOT
GOOGLE.
Fast forward 6 weeks. We made the move to Louisville when I
was 20 weeks pregnant, and I was now on the verge of my third trimester at 26
weeks and 5 days. The week we moved, we found out we were having a little boy,
and we were so excited! And now we were settling in so well in our new home.
Jacob was loving his new job, and I had just had an interview at a job teaching
voice and guitar lessons. I was busy trying to make our apartment a home,
wrangling two dogs, making sure we had a perfect home-cooked meal every night, and
I was attending 2 different Seminary Wives classes at the seminary. We were visiting
churches in town, I was loading up on baby clothes from local consignment
shops, and we and were just having a fun time being a couple of newlyweds
(still) in a new place, before we were going to become a family of 3 in 3 more
months. But it was all about to change.
I had met my new doctor twice. Once for my 20 week
appointment and once for my glucose test. I didn’t pass the first glucose test,
so I had a call one day from a nurse to see if I could come the next morning
for my fasting glucose test. I figured it would be best to go ahead and get it
out of the way, so I agreed. No midnight snack. I could handle that. What I could not handle, though, was the horrific pain I started to experience
around 9:00 that night, as Jacob and I sat on the couch, eating burnt popcorn
and watching Downton Abbey. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I just feel
really bad. Like, my stomach hurts or something…” “Maybe we should just go to
bed, then. We don’t have to watch the rest of the show. Let’s just go lie
down.” So we did. But I never slept. I couldn’t. Because every fifteen minutes
to half hour, I would have intense “stomach pain.” “Am I constipated?? Is that
what’s wrong with me!?” These are
seriously thoughts that went through my brain. Around midnight I decided to
take a bath to see if that would help. I fell asleep in the tub for about an
hour. I could feel my son kicking constantly, and aside from my “stomach
hurting,” everything seemed normal. I was trying to wait until my OB-GYN
appointment at 8:00 the next morning to ask my doctor if there was any advice
she could offer. At 3:00 AM, I couldn’t handle the pain anymore. I let Jacob
sleep, and I called the on-call doctor. I told her how far along I was and
explained the symptoms. “Jaime, you need to go to the hospital now. I think you
may be having contractions.” CONTRACTIONS???? This word was not even in my
vocabulary yet. I wasn’t even in my third trimester! “JACOB! Wake up! We
have to go to the hospital! Right now!” We basically put a coat on over our
pajamas and drove to the hospital. I expected that they’d check me out and send
me home.
“Ma’am, I’m so sorry, but you are in labor. You are 6 cm
dilated, and there’s nothing we can do. You are going to have this baby, and
you’re going to have him soon. But even if he was to wait, you’re not leaving
the hospital.”
In that moment, I felt like I was in a scene in a horror
movie, where the person is screaming but there is no sound coming out. Yet at
the same time, I felt this strange peace and excitement that I was going to
meet my little boy soon. The next two days were such a blur. I was told that
there was no time to give any type of medication like magnesium or steroids,
which would have helped slow/stop the labor and help our baby’s lungs to mature
more before coming out into the world. A few hours after we arrived at the
hospital, I was almost fully dilated and they decided to break my water and
deliver the baby. When they did, the strangest thing happened, and my body
started to UN-dilate. They took that opportunity to administer magnesium and
steroids, and I am so thankful for that. I lasted another 24 hours, and there
was no more waiting. At 26 weeks and 6 days, our precious boy, Hank, was born,
weighing 2 pounds 12 ounces and measuring 14 inches long.
I will never forget the feeling I had when he came out
screaming like a banshee. I knew that healthy lungs were such a critical part
of his survival, and for some reason, I knew that that cry was God telling me
that everything was going to be okay. In the end, it was okay. Hank spent 10
weeks and 1 day in the NICU. He had heart surgery at 2 weeks old and had
countless tests and procedures throughout his stay. I decided not to work, I
quit my classes, and I devoted the next 10 weeks to my son. I was by his side
every day, and there is no other place I wanted to be. After 71 days, Hank came
home on Thanksgiving Day. It was such a symbolic and monumental day for us, as
we had so much to be thankful for. Our son was a miracle.
Hank is now 4 and a half months old (1 and a half months old
corrected age, or, how old he would be had he been born on his December 17th
due date) and weighs almost 11 pounds. He is a happy, healthy baby and we
absolutely adore him. The doctors never determined a cause for my preterm
labor, and it’s something we may have to deal with again if God allows us to
have other children. But we put our trust in the Lord. For any expecting mother
out there, my story is not shared to scare you. If I could offer you any
advice, I would tell you three things. One: if you are a believer, let God
carry your fears and burdens. Being an expectant mom provides us with enough
stress. Hand Him over your fears -- He will take care of you because He cares
for you. Two: be aware. IT’S OKAY to be a helicopter mom before you give birth!
Ask your doctor lots of questions, and if something doesn’t seem right to you,
do something about it. You are your child’s voice. Three: no matter what stage
of life you’re in, have a community. We are not meant to live life alone. We
could not have made it through our journey without friends and the Church
rallying around us. People WANT to help and be a blessing -- let them! J Thanks for letting me
share our story, and my prayer for you is this: “The Lord bless you and keep
you. The Lord make His face shine upon you, and be gracious to you; The Lord
lift His countenance upon you, and give you peace.” Numbers 6:24-26
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