A journey to say the least. That's definitely what we have been on in the last three weeks, as Olivia knew she wanted out, although the doctor's wanted to keep her in. Rightfully so as every day in Mommy at 33, 34, 35, etc. weeks is the best thing for baby. After making the trek into Sunrise Hospital in Las Vegas twice and having labor stopped, the third time proved to be the "charm." Even though I was taking the maximum dose of Procardia, a contraction stopping medicine, the contractions simply did not want to stop. I actually did not even go into the hospital for contractions, but instead, went in for a moderate/severe pain at the top of my abdomen. However, when they hooked me to the monitoring machine, my contractions were literally off the charts.
My doctor came in and said that my body is trying to tell us something, and it's no longer safe to keep trying to stop contractions (as we've exhausted all of our resources), so it's time to have the c-section. He expressed his concerns of my uterus rupturing, which would/could cause many complications for Mommy and baby. He said the c-section would be at 7:30 a.m. the next morning.
I was shocked. I figured we would be in the same boat as we had been the two weeks previous, where they would stop the contractions and send us on our way. In no way did I think that we actually would be leaving the hospital with a beautiful baby girl. Overall, I kept my cool quite well, prayed a lot, and prepared myself mentally for the day ahead. It's funny that you choose to get pregnant, know how the process works, and yet you can still be completely amazed/astonished by the process and the arrival of a new life. I didn't sleep much through the night as I was anxious, nervous, excited, etc., but did manage to sleep between 2 and 4 a.m. At 4:30 a.m. I decided to get up and fix my make-up although my husband thought I was absolutely crazy. :) He continued to snore away until about 6 a.m. When I finished my make-up, I caught up on the "Royal Wedding." :)
Then, life changed. Again. And my overall perception of life took a hit too. I walked into the operating room. Yes, walked. Hopped up on the table and waited for my epidural. Then, the process began. Armando sat next to me, holding my hand, as we waited for the first cry. Seven minutes after the initial cut, the cry radiated through the operating room and silent tears slid down my face. Olivia Grace was born right at 8 a.m. I could hear the nurses calling out her length (17.75 inches) and weight (6.5 lbs.). Because she was only 35 weeks and 3 days, it was standard to have the NICU team in on the delivery, and just as soon as they cleaned her off, they came over, let me kiss her and she was whisked away (with Daddy) to the NICU. While Dr. Richter was making the initial cuts, he kept saying, "Thank God. Thank God we are doing this right now." Obviously, I was laying there thinking, "Can you please elaborate?" And, then, he did. My uterus had what is referred to as a "window." Essentially my uterus was so thin that the doctor said he could see Olivia waving to him through it. It turned out that given much longer my uterus most likely would have ruptured and Olivia and I would have been in a lot of turmoil, up to death. This was just the beginning of a perception change.
Then, life took that unexpected turn. It turned out that Olivia needed the NICU team, although I had prayed many, many prayers to never have to experience the NICU again. Her lung had a small hole in it, there was a chance of an infection, and due to the breathing complications, she struggled (would struggle) to eat. Needless to say, initially, I was crushed. To see your baby in the NICU and/or hospital at all, is simply like wearing your heart on your sleeve. I cried many, many tears standing over her, watching her labored breathing, holding her and talking to doctors. I was asked on more than one occasion, by family mostly, "how are you doing it?" My response was simply, "I don't have a choice." When faced with stress of that caliber it would be much easier to crawl under the bed and cry until it is over, but that is not going to solve anything. Instead, I am still a mother of two, and a wife, and I had to let Olivia know that even when the going gets tough, I will always be there to take care of her. I had to remind myself of this on occasion through the process, but with Armando's amazing love it was much easier.
And, then, it also helps when life is put into perspective for you. First, we were surrounded by amazing nurses and doctors. People that truly care about people, and life, and work difficult hours and with difficult situations, to help people. It is a beautiful thing to watch, as sometimes when you look at society, it may be easy to think that kindness and compassion have been lost. Visit the NICU, that's certainly not the case. Secondly, when I looked around the NICU, it was easy to see that Armando and I were blessed. We had a little girl that came a bit too early and needed a little more time to develop. She would leave the NICU with no long-term effects, and with a family to love and provide for her. Some of the babies in there would have to have their parents called to come and get them, as the parent(s) had given up on them. And the majority of the babies in the NICU were in there for months, needed open heart surgery (in our pod, as it was the cardiac pod), had many machines hooked to them to keep them alive, etc. We met parents that had been so strong, and were so dedicated to their children. We met parents that were as scared as we were. We watched parents as they were admitted into the NICU, and as they were discharged. I shed many tears for many families, that I did not even know.
It was at times a painful chapter in our story, but the journey was certainly part of our story, and the reward was and is a blessing. Olivia was called several things in the NICU: sassy, a fighter, adorable, beautiful, etc. She's already making a name for herself and I can't wait to continue this story with her. This chapter has taught me so much and given me yet another perspective on life and what our priorities really should be/are. We were surrounded by beautiful people - in the NICU, and outside (our family and friends). While I can't say I'm going to miss the experience, it is as it was and has had a tremendous effect on who I am and how I view people and life. When we think things are as bad as they can get and/or that we can't take the small things, we just need to stop and think of how things could be and what others are facing, and making it through.
To everyone that showed their love and compassion to us through this time, I appreciate you more than you probably will ever know and I am grateful that you are part of our story.
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