Olivia is the topic of the day as I just received an EOB (explanation of billing) for her time in the NICU. Her stay totals $451,634.53! Wow that is a lot of money! And a wonderful, accurate job they did in caring for my precious child, but she is here with us because God declared that she would be, and no price can be put on that. And so the story goes....
At twenty weeks pregnant I broke water; it was a slow leak. I knew something was not right, but never, ever did I think I had broke water. Honestly, I thought I had not thoroughly wiped, I know, gross!! But it was 2:00AM! And by the way, I did get up to wipe again, despite the time. Anyway two days and a lot of thorough wiping later, I had my first ultrasound. The technician asked me if I had some leaking because I had no fluid in my amniotic sac; she sent in the doctor. So first I was advised to abort, on the grounds that my baby would most likely be born stillborn. When they understood that was not one of my options they attempted to prepare me for what her birth would be like (of course we didn't know that she was a girl yet, with no amniotic fluid visibility of the womb is extremely low). Dr. Jabba the Hut (nicknamed by hubby, and a pretty accurate description) went on to describe what awaited me (very matter of factly yet sensitively). I would have a c-section because my prior two children were delivered like so, they would swaddle my baby in blankets to keep her dead body warm, and they would let me hold her. One of my besties accompanied me to this psycho appointment, and the woman was a wreck, rightfully so. She wept and wept and wept! But I couldn't weep. I just didn't connect with the sorrow of everything he was telling me. I looked him in the eye and told him: Well doctor, with all due respect science goes but so far. Don't get me wrong, I was extremely emotional; but I just couldn't own such a horrific outcome just yet. So the plan became that if I made it to twenty four weeks pregnant, they would hospitalize me. Monitor me for infections and keep a steady eye on baby. If I caught an infection, without question they would deliver me immediately, apparently that would have put my life in danger; I could die. Now before admitting me they had to have proof that my sac had actually ruptured, so they proposed performing a procedure where they would insert fluid into my belly via a needle. A bigger needle than the one used to perform an amniocentesis, and they would keep the needle in my precious baby's delicate space about quadruple the time longer. They would dye the fluid blue and then have me insert a tampon. When the blue fluid stained the tampon they would know that I had indeed ruptured my membranes. Okay, call me crazy, but that was just too invasive! I pled my case. Doctors, please tell me how this procedure makes any kind of sense?! I'll never forget my husbands expression. He looked so helpless. He knew it didn't make any sense, but being so worried about me, he tried to get me to reason. I was reasoning! The doctors left us to talk, they returned in agreement that they would hospitalize me, all of a sudden realizing that the lack of fluid in my amniotic sac and the leaking equaled a ruptured membrane! As one of the doctors was leaving the room he turned to ask my husband and I if we spoke spanish. Yes, we do. He went on to tell us that he had done some charity work in South America. Oh really doc, for Doctors Without Borders? No, missions for Jesus Christ!
I was hospitalized the very day after my eldest daughters first day of kindergarten! How heartbreaking!!! Being away from Asia and Sophia is a story in itself that I will get to at another time; they most certainly deserve their own story. Hubby took some time off to care for the girls (and since then there is a whole different level of appreciation and understanding for what I do ;) and my mom also helped with the girls. So here is an incredibly important point to my miraculous tale, I spent two weeks on bed rest in the hospital. I read, I journaled, but most of all I prayed. I prayed for the will of The Most High God, The Sovereign Lord Almighty to be done. I actually came to terms with the possibility of giving birth to a breathless little angel. I had so much faith in the pure truth that God ALWAYS works for good that I surrendered my needs, my wants, my plans to Him. I knew in the core of my being that if He allowed any such dark outcome it was for my good. Doesn't sound so bright, so upbeat, so godly. or so GOOD, but that was the truth of His holiness inscripted on my heart. That is where my relationship with Him went.
During my stay some very tragic things happened to some of my roommates. Out of respect for them I will not go there, but my heart will always be scarred for some of the unspeakable tradgedies. I remember one particular afternoon hearing an alarming bell ringing throughout the corridor to later find out a young mom had lost her life in childbirth. So many days and nights I felt so overwhelmed. I would pray for some women as if I knew them all my life.
My stay was challenging and extremely emotional, but I tried my best to focus my thoughts on the blessings of healing and restoration. Two weeks later, I resealed! I was the talk of the hospital. It had never been heard of, but there I was with a beautiful round healthy looking belly! I was overjoyed. I came home. It was bliss, reunited with my beloved family.
Two weeks pass, I am now twenty eight weeks pregnant and my water breaks again. Oh no!! This time there was no mistaking it, there was a huge gush. And how did I wake up ten seconds before the incident at 3:00AM to make it to the bathroom will always be a wonder to me. Back to the hospital I go. Two weeks pass and I begin to bleed, they tell me thats normal. Oh really? Because pregnancy and bleeding to me don't go together. Not this kind of bleeding anyway; it was heavy. I insisted on getting an ultra sound and was repeatedly denied because Olivia (we now know her gender and her name!) was showing no sign of distress. They were very kind to me in the hospital, but I was now a little confused and frustrated. An old school, experienced doctor finally came in to see me. Dr. Rivera! She asked how long had I been in that state, she was not happy with the answer being a whole day and a half. She said: Prep her! It happened all so fast. Next thing I know precious Olivia was out of my belly, passed through a window to a waiting neonatologist. No first cry, no quick peek, just the fact that she was alive. It was enough. Despite the ache in my entire body to hold her, to kiss her, to nurse her. One of the doctors came to talk to us after my surgery. He started with: I am not very religious, but Olivia is a miracle. Apparently my placenta had abrupted, I had a true knot in my cord, and of course overall I had broken water at twenty weeks. She was a healthy 3 lbs. 1 oz. That may sound tiny, but for a baby who had a very challenging atmosphere to develop in, she was a good weight, surprisingly so. So now I'm stitched up and back in my room when one of the doctors comes in. Immediately I knew something was wrong. Mr. and Mrs. Morales we'd like to take you back to the NICU. I'm sorry but your baby is going to die and we think you both should be with her, and get to hold her. Oh Jesus, nooooooooooo!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Please Father in Heaven hear me!!! I don't remember my entire prayer, just that I voiced it loud and through a multitude of tears. I must have woken up every single woman on that floor as they wheeled me to my daughter. It was 4:00AM. When I first laid eyes on her she was blue. But I knew, immediately that she would be alright. A peace came over me. I was now like the woman in the bible who refused to accept the death of her son. It was not an option. Her dying was not something I could handle. I looked at my husband and said baby it's going to be okay. We will name her Faith.. Olivia Faith. A cardiologist was needed to diagnose her illness and then they would administer the proper medicine, but the hospital did not have a round the clock cardiologist. There was pure panic in the faces of every single nurse and doctor in that station. And then, well what do you know, there happens to be a cardiologist here, right now, on the premises. He'll be here in ten minutes. Everything under and above the sun was working for the life of my baby girl. God was directing all the events!
A lot of oxygen, two blood transfusions, high intensity photo therapy, tons and tons of iv fluids and lab work, and all sorts of medicines later, we took our baby home. Exactly a seven week stay. I spent every single one of those days with her. Arriving at 9:00AM and retiring at 9:00PM, sometimes 10, sometimes 11. Pumping my breast milk every three hours. Oh boy sometimes I wanted to throw that machine against the wall. Just out of exhaustion and frustration, but mostly I was thankful for such a machine. I remember when we had gone back to the room after being with her those first crucial hours, it was 6:00AM. I couldn't sleep, but was going in and out of some drug induced form of rest. At 8:00AM the lactation specialist came in with my breast pump: Oh I know you're not ready to pump, I'll just leave this right over here. Oh yes I am ready, bring that pump to mama... And so began my relationship with my breast pump.
Olivia is now an exquisite, healthy, five and a half month old who just had her first organic rice cereal today! Words can never truly embody what she means to us. She is an extension of Gods power, His mercy, His faithfulness, His realness. She is our very own miracle....
I am her and she is me....
P.S. If you or someone you know ever has a baby in the NICU, I encourage you, please spend time with your baby. Your baby does know the difference between you and a nurse! And your voice, your song, your touch could be the very best medicine in the world!!
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