I was actually going to post about Halloween today but I feel like I need to share something else instead. I’m not sure why, but the thought came and I just can’t get it out of my mind.
My youngest daughter and I have been butting heads recently and it’s made life more than a little interesting. But tonight I was reminded of the circumstances surrounding her birth which, in my opinion, is pretty awe inspiring.
I’d had a rough pregnancy history with miscarriages and premature babies that didn’t make it. By the time I got pregnant for her (immediately following my decision to get my tubes tied), I was extremely high risk and knew my odds of dying were really good if I decided to go through with it.
Abortion would have been acceptable in that case, and I actually considered it, but didn’t want to do it. But before I had to make the choice, my doctor decided it must be a tubal pregnancy because the baby wasn’t growing like ‘it’ should. I was so happy because if he was right, the decision would be taken out of my hands. So I prayed really hard that it was.
Until I walked into the hospital for the ultra sound…and saw a woman being wheeled out with her new baby.
And then my prayers changed immediately. I wanted this baby! I’d had to leave so many times without one, that’s all I wanted in that moment. To be wheeled out of the hospital with my baby in my arms. One more child that I could bring home to love and raise. Three out of seven would be more acceptable than two out of six.
And when the ultra sound revealed that the pregnancy was normal, no one was happier than I was…or more scared, because the odds were still good that I could die.
I was very fortunate to have a high risk doctor who saw me pretty much on a weekly basis. I’m not sure why, but I feel that we got to be more than just the regular doctor/patient thing. Not anything bad. More than acquaintances, but less than friends. He knew my fears, and for some reason, also trusted my judgment.
An especially good thing when, a week before my scheduled C-section, I felt like something very bad was going to happen and told him I felt the baby needed to be delivered now. Doctors just don’t change surgery dates like that, not three weeks early instead of two, but he did. Even though he was very pleased that I’d made it well past the six month mark, which neither one of us really expected to happen. He was shooting for as close to full term as possible.
Long story short (or shorter), if we’d waited the extra week, my uterus would have ruptured, likely killing both of us. As it was, we cut it very close.
So yes, my daughter is a walking, talking miracle. And even in the midst of all the problems of the past few weeks, I remember how grateful I was to be wheeled out of the hospital with her in my arms.
And the amazing stuff doesn’t end there. At ten days old she was put back in the hospital for jaundice. When they released her two days later, because I’d just had a C-section, they had me get in a wheelchair…so I got to be wheeled out with her twice.
It brings tears to my eyes every time I remember that. A baby being wheeled out in its mother’s arms had caused such an intense longing in me to experience that one more time, and I got to do it twice in less than two weeks.
How awesome is that? Just as awesome as my daughter is. We’ll probably continue to disagree over this situation for some time to come, but I know she’ll be all right. With such an incredible start to her life, I’m expecting nothing less.