December 3, 2010 - We went in for a scheduled C-section to meet our second daughter. It had been a very easy pregnancy. Mama healthy, baby healthy. It was supposed to be completely routine. As soon as she was delivered, something seemed....off. When our first daughter was born (also by C-section) the nurses talked to us. They went on and on about her hair and how beautiful she was. With this one it was different though. They were quiet and I could see it on their faces, something wasn't right.
They cleaned her up a little, brought her over for me to see and then took her to the nursery along with my husband and I was taken to recovery. For an hour I was in recovery. I was so anxious. I just wanted to hold my baby, and unlike my first C-section, I was completely awake and aware of everything the whole hour. I talked so much to the nurse who was there with me, and if you know me you know that I am HORRIBLE at making small talk with strangers. Twice she called the nursery for me to see how everything was going. She wasn't ever able to give me any information. I don't know what was said to her but I remember her telling me, "I'm sure it's just busy, if there was something wrong the doctor would come talk to you."
My recovery time was over and it was time for me to go back to my room and I still didn't know how much my baby weighed, how long she was... if she was okay. I just kept repeating to myself what the nurse said. It's busy in the nursery. (And it was, my c-section was moved back two hours because of how many unexpected deliveries had come in that morning.) If something was wrong, a doctor would have told me. I hadn't seen a doctor so things must be okay. They took me back to my room and I was alone. My husband wasn't there yet, he was still with the baby. All alone, no one to talk to, no nurse for me to ask questions to.
A knock on my door and someone in a white coat enters my room. A doctor. My heart sank. I could feel the tears forming before she even started speaking. I cannot for the life of me remember what her name was, I can't even remember if my husband was there, but I remember her telling me that my baby wasn't breathing right and they were going to have to take her to another hospital that could handle her condition. What she was saying, just didn't make sense. Words that I had never heard before, being used to describe my baby's condidtion. This isn't right. My baby is healthy. My doctor would have told me if something was going to be wrong.
And she would have, if she could have known. Our little girl was born with bilateral choanal atresia. Basically her sinus cavity never opened up. In her case, it was still full of bone. She couldn't breathe through her nose, and with a newborn that means she couldn't breathe. There was no way that this could have been detected in an ultrasound. She was fine as long as she was in me, but as soon as she tried to take her first breath she was struggling.
From her first breath. From her VERY FIRST breath, she had to fight. She had to fight and I was powerless. I couldn't protect my baby in that moment. I just wanted to take her from them, put her back in me. There. She's safe there. Now leave her alone. But, that wouldn't have solved anything.
The next time I saw that doctor she was explaining that they would be flying our little girl out soon. My husband was going to go by car, because the other hospital was only about two hours from where we were. I had to stay at the hospital. I had just had a surgery. I couldn't leave and they were taking my baby two hours away from me. My baby, that I had only seen for a moment. The helicopter crew brought her up to see me right before they left. She was ready for transport so I couldn't hold her. I touched her for a moment through the incubator and then she was gone, my husband with her.
That was THE longest night of my life. I needed to get to that hospital. I needed to be with her. Thankfully God layed his hands on me and I flew through all of my discharge prerequisites. The hospital and my doctor were wonderful and let me leave the next morning, under strict instructions to take it as easy as possible. My sister, who had stayed with me through the night, drove me the two hours so that I could be with my baby.
The first time I saw my little girl was for a brief moment before they took her to the nursery. The second was for a brief moment before they took her to a different hospital. The third was this:
I couldn't hold my baby. I couldn't comfort her.
By the time I was able to get to the hospital, she had already had her first surgery to remove the bone so that she could breathe. She ended up being there for the first two weeks of her life. I was finally able to hold her on December 9, 2010.
It was a long two weeks. We stayed at the Ronald McDonald House (love them) and while we were going through something we hadn't planned on, we were still very fortunate, very blessed. Our baby was going to be okay. She could recover. There were other families there that couldn't say the same thing.
After a few months of procedures, two different doctors, two different hospitals, we finally found the right doctor. She hasn't been back to the doctor for the atresia since March 15, 2011. She's good, she's really good. She does have one nostril that is always snotty but we're not complaining.
She turned one on Saturday.
My favorite gift that she's been given...health.
Your strength through it amazed me, Sarah! You do not give yourself enough credit.
ReplyDeleteAnd that little girl has some amazing strength too. She's always so full of happiness that it effects everyone around her! :) ...until you tick her off! haha
God provided many blessings during that very scary time. It is often through those scary times though when we realize just how much we need a personal relationship with God.
Love you and those girls! And give Adam a Wet Willy for me please!