In October of 2007, I met Grant. He proposed on the Fourth of July in 2008, we married in March of 2010, and were expecting our first child in February 2011. Talk about moving quick!
Like every book, some chapters linger, and some, well, some chapters fly by. I went 9 years without dating, and then I met Grant. Here we are... married, 3 beautiful children, and looking back and wondering what and when did all this just happen? Ha-ha.
We weren't expecting to get pregnant right away, but we did. Excitement ran through the roof, but it wasn't quite real to us, until we found ourselves in the hospital. You never go in, especially with your first, expecting complications. I was 6 cm dilated with contractions that actually relieved me instead of tortured me. This was going to be a piece of cake, is what I thought. So much so, that I told the nurses if I was progressing this quickly with little pain that I wouldn't need the epidural. They assured me that things would get more painful, and that if I changed my mind later, the anesthesiologist may not be available at the time I'd want one. I quickly requested Kiko. Not long after, things went south. They rushed me in for a cesarean, and found a knot in the cord, in addition to it wrapped entirely around his belly and his neck. Every time a contraction came it would tighten the knot, minimizing the flow of oxygen to Parker. I know many people frown upon the increase in c-sections nowadays, but I am thankful for mine. I'm thankful for doctors who took the steps needed to ensure the health and safety of our little boy. Parker is now four, and he's one of the smartest little boys I know.
Not long after Parker, we decided to try for our second child. I was torn between a scheduled c-section or a VBAC. Considering the size of Parker (9.1 lbs), the doctor made a point to say that statistically speaking, second babies are usually bigger and that birthing a large baby would be no walk in the park. Easily convinced, I scheduled the cesarean.
I never told many people what happened in the hospital. Many people were anticipating the news, but they were left with no answers. They wanted to know, see and hear about baby. They were asking how everything went the morning of Reid's birth. But honestly, we weren't sure. Baby was okay. Mommy was not. My apologies to anyone who thought I was being rude or silent. The whole delivery was scary.
I went in that morning, anticipating the moment I'd see and hold Reid for the first time, sharing and seeing Parker's face when he met him for the first time, and then sharing the news with family and friends. That's what I had hoped for.
The normal numbing procedure for scheduled cesareans are done via spinals. They started the procedure early that morning, and 30 seconds in, I could barely talk while trying to catch my breath. It's normal to see a drop in blood pressure, and often times they spike it using medication. When they spiked it the first time, my body did not react. I've been told they routed to plan B, and tried to spike it with a different type of medication, to which my blood pressure skyrocketed. At this point, I screamed (So I've been told) and remember saying, "if you guys don't do something now, my head is going to explode."
I remember the nurses calling for the head anesthesiologist. I remember hearing these words, "we haven't quite stabilized her. If we can't stabilize her, we will have to put her under." Talk about the end of your life. It's not comforting. It's scary. I remember laying there on that cold operating table, shivering and teeth chattering uncontrollably, thinking I may not walk out of this place. I may not make it. I thought to myself, while in pain, that Grant would be walking out with two boys. Alone. Tears began to race down my cheeks. It was a silent kind of cry. I felt helpless. I think the doctors felt helpless too.
After the chaotic atmosphere settled and I was stabilized, my doctor asked if we were ready to proceed. At this point he had yet to start the surgery. He started the procedure, and I started to cough. In fact, I couldn't stop. I remember him asking, "Were you sick coming in today?" No! No, I was not.
Finally, the heavenly sound of Reid's first cry. Tears. Lots of them, rolled down my face. At this point I was wondering if I'd be going home with him?
I got to the recovery room, and an overwhelming feeling of relief came over me. Reid nursed for an hour, Parker got to meet him and everything was going great! Until... Grant leaves to get Parker situated and comfortable at home with Papa and Yaya, and the nurses come in to tell me that baby has to go to the nursery and that I have to go to the ICU. WHAT?!?!? Perfect timing. My husband just left and you're telling me I can't be with my baby, and I'm going to an entirely different unit and floor from him?!?
Talk about a shock. I was feeling fine, had been doing fine and they're taking me to the Intensive Care Unit. They began to explain that they were unsure of what happened in the Operating Room, and threw out the possibility of a heart attack and a pulmonary embolism. Their conclusion as of now (two years later) is that I am sensitive to medication and I reacted to the spinal. I believe there's more to the story that's not being said, but they'll never tell us what really happened. There's too much at stake.
Let's just say... I would have taken Parker's emergency c-section over Reid's scheduled cesarean any day. But, God had a plan. I believe without a doubt that Jesus' hand played a huge role in what happened, which is why I'm still here. Jesus was there in that room. I believe He fixed what human hands may have mistakenly messed up, and I am forever thankful.
After many doctor appointments with neurologists and cardiologists, everything came back normal. Thank you, Jesus.
As for having a third child, I was emotionally torn. I was scared. Many times I found myself saying I'd rather be a mom of two healthy boys than try again and have a single dad of three.
But, I remember standing in line at Publix, talking to a sweet lady in front of me. She was chatting with the boys, complimenting how well-behaved and cute they were, and then said to me, "I have two as well, but boy do I regret not having a third. I really wanted a third, but we just never went for it." I had to ask myself, would I regret not having tried? And then I started thinking that fear should not stop me. Where is my faith? And wasn't Jesus there with me during Reid's delivery? I couldn't let fear decide for me. I knew I wanted to try again for baby three. After about a month (maybe longer), Grant was finally on board. One... last... time.
COOL LITTLE SIDE STORY
Before we decided to try for baby number three, we were sitting on the couch one evening. Parker looked at me and says, "mommy, when the baby girl comes out of your belly, then we will name her." I was honestly confused, and Grant chimed in and asked, "Are you telling him about babies already?"
No! I haven't said one word to him about babies. (We weren't even pregnant at the time.) So Grant asks Parker, "Hey buddy, what do you mean baby girl?" He shrugged his shoulders and said, "I don't know. When she comes out, then we'll name her."
Grant and I oddly looked at each other and never thought twice about it.
So, back to baby three. We are both on board, and we quickly find ourselves pregnant. We share the news, and Parker is automatically convinced it's a girl. Sometimes I wonder if Jesus told him, especially after the encounter we had with him before we were pregnant.
On the way to the doctors to find out what we were having, I wanted to prepare Parker that this could very well be a boy. He cried when I told him and said, "I don't want another boy!" When we finally found out we were having a girl, there was no reaction. He just had an "I told you so" kind of attitude. It was no real news to him. He apparently knew in his heart, and throughout the entire pregnancy that he was having a baby sister. Parker even chose her name.
As we got further along, I was certain baby girl would come early. I was hoping so--I was so uncomfortable this third time around. However, she must have been super comfortable inside mommy having gone 39 weeks and 4 days. Pretty close to full term. I was over it by 6 months, ha.
The date of our scheduled cesarean was nearing. To tell you I wasn't scared or concerned would be a lie. However, I knew that God gave us this third blessing, and all I could do was trust Him completely.
Because of my complications, and what the doctors like to call "a rare case", they had to prepare their entire team in the OR. They had to be on top of anything that could go wrong, just in case I responded to the medication the same way. With that, we opted for the epidural instead of the spinal in hopes for an uneventful delivery. Things would progress slower, but safer. Kiko was THE MAN! I requested him over 100 times. He was the anesthesiologist that took care of me during Parker's emergency, and I wanted him!
When he walked into the room, I think I got a little choked up, and said, "I'm SO SO happy to see your face!" I think I took him by surprise.
Anyways, long story short, this delivery was the first one that Grant could be apart of. He was there to experience the delivery, hold my hand and comfort me. It was the first delivery that was uneventful. I know that Jesus was there in that room. I know He was. There were moments I'd feel tugging or normal discomfort from the operation, or I would allow my mind to wonder places that would result in shivers and chattering teeth. I couldn't control them. I'd close my eyes, picture the cross with Jesus in front of it, and in that moment everything stopped. My chatters and shivers were gone. That happened a handful of times on the operating table. He was there. Without a doubt.
It was the first time I heard laughing in the operating room. The doctors joked and laughed with Grant. Me? Not so much. I just wanted it over with. They laughed about whether or not the baby was a girl or a boy. Told me that if she were a boy, we should name him Elway. Grant would have appreciated the name. John Elway. Colorado. Get it?
Anyways, as soon as he pulled her out, he leaned her over the drape and said if there were any concerns about being a girl, here we have it. We laugh, and Grant says, "well at least there's only one!" And my doctor leans over the drape and says, "We aren't done yet!"
There was a lot of laughing; something so different than with our first two experiences. Then, for just a moment, it was bittersweet. Sad, really. The last 15 minutes were spent ending an entire chapter of our own--the doctor cut and tied the tubes. I will never carry another child or feel another kick. It hasn't fully hit me emotionally. Maybe it never will. But, there's a time in life when chapters must end and new ones begin. I'm just happy we tried a third time. I consider myself blessed and truly thankful that this time was uneventful. All praise and thanks go to Jesus alone.
Oh life, it's a beautiful thing, but it moves so fast. I wish it would slow down. Sadly, it never will. We have to embrace it while we can, savor each and every moment because life is but a breath. Ella is just shy of three weeks. I'm going to blink and they'll all be off to college. I know. People remind me daily how quick it goes by.
So, we will enjoy this journey that God has set before us. We pray that we can be examples of Jesus to and for our children. That they will grow to love Him and love all people unconditionally. We will trust in God to guide our steps and teach us how to be more Christ-like. And at the end of the day, no matter what or where life takes us, Jesus will be the center of it.
We are pretty simple people who love Jesus, love people and love life and this is us; this is our story.
