This is a deeply personal story that I have hesitated
writing down for fear that I would not do it justice. It is one of the most defining moments of my
life and it turned Paul and me into survivors.
On September 2, 2011, we were celebrating the Paul’s arrival at a baby shower with some of my closest friends and family at my parent’s house. I point out this day because it was one of the last memories I have of everything being OK.
To be completely honest, for weeks … 3 to be exact, I had been concerned about lack of movement by the baby but was assured each time I expressed his concern that he was fine. He was not. To quote a certain doctor “I should be happy that I wasn’t getting jabbed in the ribs.” I will live with a mountain of regret that my personality is to reluctantly trust what the “experts” told me rather than trusting my mommy gut and demanding them to take me seriously and give me an ultra-sound or non-stress test that would have undoubtedly shown that Paul was in distress. I live with this every single day of my life.
I had been having non-productive contractions for about a
week and they were beginning to become more regular although they did not cause
me any pain. I said in front of my TV
watching The Tudors on Netflix, eating and apple and peanut butter and decided
to call my mom to come and sit with me since Micah was out of town. We decided to head to the hospital … checked
in … everything was normal until I was hooked up to the monitors.
The nurse said he was sleeping and gave me some ice water to
drink to wake him up. It didn’t
work. He heart rate was non-varieted …
meaning it did not change with my contractions.
She told me he was fine and that he would be out already if there was
really something wrong. I was scared but
tried to believe what she told me. The
doctor popped her head in after about 1.5 hours … we were going to do a
c-section and the anesthesiologist was headed over. Nothing was rushed … there was what I would
describe as mild concern.
The atmosphere in the operating room was calm and
light. There were smiles and jokes. The doctor calmly explained was she was doing
as she made the incision more than 2 hours after they had determined that he
was some sort of distress. The anesthesiologist
snapped pictures as Paul’s lifeless body was removed from me. He didn’t make any sounds but nobody panicked
right away and the anesthesiologist continued with pictures. I waited and the panic set in. The room exploded into chaos. Nurses rushing around and doctors
yelling. I remember the neonatologist shouting
at someone to write down what was happening. I watched a male doctor pace back and forth
near my head looking down at the floor with his fingers on his chin. I have no idea who he was or why he was there
but the image of him is seared into my head and I saw him for months when I
would close my eyes to sleep. 
I laid there with my arms strapped down, being sewn back
together and for the first time and my life prayed out loud for Jesus to help Paul. I turned my head back around to watch them resuscitating
my baby. It was like I was watching a
movie … this absolutely could not be happening.
My heart told me immediately that he would live and they he would be severely
affected … I thought back to all of the doctors visits that I had told them he
wasn’t moving correctly and my mind wondered to wheelchair vans and lifting an
adult man into a bed, right there in the midst of the confusion. I knew.
Paul was without O2 for more than 10 minute outside my body
but I knew that something had been wrong for some time. They finally stabilized him enough to bring
him to the NICU and me into recovery. It
was horrible. The doctor and nurses
whispered to each other across the room and at one point told our parents that
Paul was OK. I told them he was not. I remember shaking uncontrollably with my
hands up next to my face and being given Demerol to calm me down.
They finally came and told me they would transfer Paul to
Cincinnati Children’s Hospital because he has qualified to receive total body
cooling which is the only thing that we have to treat brain injuries (more on
this to come). I had just watched a
video on the internet on this very thing about 5 days prior so I knew exactly
what was happening,
They brought me down to see him before he left. I had what felt like a troop of medical
professionals surrounding me as I kissed him on his tiny toes and told my sweet
angel boy that his mommy loved him so much.
He was so swollen. I was so numb.
They brought him by as they were leaving and my parents got
to see him. I asked my father-in-law,
Greg, to go with him. I could tell he
was nervous but there was no way he would say no.
It was briefly explained to me that Paul has suffered a fetal
maternal hemorrhage … which basically means he bled out into me. He did not have enough blood in his body to
carry the appropriate amount of oxygen to his brain. This had been going on for weeks. I mean, I
didn’t even know that his type of thing could happen. And nobody can explain to me why.
 |
| I think about this a lot. |
I was brought to my room and I didn’t cry. I remember thinking to myself “why aren’t you
crying, you should be crying. Your baby
might die. What is wrong with
you!?” None of the nurses really spoke
to me and I was totally disconnected from the rest of the world ….
I know that most everyone thought Paul was going to die and
if you would to have seen his blood work you would have thought so too. I have heard the haunting term “incompatible
with life” used to describe them … only to be followed by the word MIRACLE.
