Updated on August 16, 2017
Shiloh’s birth – Part One
We had been there before. It was all very familiar – laced with a bit of deja vu – and yet so different this time.
As we approached Arabella’s birth it felt like there was a groundswell of anticipation. I had carefully planned out inducement day, the arrival of family in time for the birth, the arrival of lifelong friends in time for the possibility of a funeral. Friends, acquaintances, and strangers seemed to all be collectively holding their breath – tracking the updates through the long hours of labor.
The approach this time around felt much quieter. Many likely assumed that this girl would be a fighter, would follow the road paved by her sister. But my mama’s heart trembled – fully aware of the the full gamut of outcomes we were facing. But inducement day and the days following were not nearly as scripted ahead of time. Arabella had taught me to let go of the details – and that details rarely play out as planned. In fact, planning was pretty much impossible this time around. Heading into the hospital, due to Shiloh’s position, we weren’t even sure we would be induced. We knew we might be sent home to Ronald McDonald – to return on Monday for a c-section. Consequently, friends and family were on hold for making the trip over to Seattle.
Jeff arrived with our girls on Friday, on Eliana’s birthday. It was a low key last day as a family of four. A trip to the park with all of us, a birthday trip to frozen yogurt for Mommy and Ellie, pizza night at Ronald McDonald followed by a cake picked up at the local grocery store, frosted of course in Ellie’s favorite colors. We put the girls to bed, and settled in within video monitor range in the Ronald McDonald lobby. Jeff read and I wrote. And then we headed to bed.
Saturday morning we woke up and quickly toasted up some bagels for the family – optimistically hoping to be headed to the hospital soon. My dad was making an early morning trip over the mountains and would be arriving around 9 to take care of the girls for us. We made our call into the hospital and the first episode of deja vu appeared. All the beds were full on the delivery ward; we could call to check back in a few hours. The last time with Bella, all the NICU beds were full – a fact that delayed inducement a full day and taught me a lesson in release.
On this day, the delay didn’t ruffle too many feathers. We ate a second breakfast at the Ronald McDonald Saturday brunch, and then settled in the room with my dad and the girls watching cartoons. I read a book, Jeff did a bit of work, my dad dozed. Jeff called back in for a status update at some point in the morning, and we were told that there should be deliveries soon and they would call us when a bed opened.
Lunch time approached and we headed down to the kitchen to make PB&J sandwiches for all. It was at that moment, standing in the kitchen with peanut butter slathered knife in hand that we got the call – you can come in now. I hurried through the rest of the assembly line sandwich prep, wrapped Jeff & my sandwiches in paper towels, and headed up to the room for the hospital bag.
We arrived at the UW and got checked in. The nurse got me on the monitors and warned me that the placement of said monitors appeared to indicate Miss Shiloh was still breech. We would have to wait, though, for the OB to do an ultrasound to confirm. And so began the waiting game. Jeff and I played games and chatted and waited. And waited. It was a busy day on the floor and consequently it took awhile to get the ultrasound. Eventually the machine was rolled in and suspicions were confirmed. Stubborn Shiloh was still breech, despite my efforts to “spin” her. And so we got talked through all the procedural risks of a version and signed forms. The resident talking us through the procedure warned that I had quite a bit of discomfort ahead of me.
Forms signed, we settled in to wait again. Evening was approaching and we hadn’t even attempted to turn Shiloh, let alone start inducement. Eventually the attending came in to talk to us about the possibility of getting an epidural placed for the version. Recent research had shown a significant increase of success for versions when an epidural is given – presumably from how that relaxes the uterus. We were looking for anything to make success more likely, and quickly agreed. The attending said we would just have to wait for anesthesia to be ready.
And so we waited again. After another substantial wait the OB popped in – things are a bit busy on the floor and for anesthesia, do you want to try it without the epidural or wait for it? We’ll wait for it, we responded.
One of our favorite nurses from Bella’s birth had purposefully scheduled herself to be on shift that night. We thought we would be well under way with labor by the time she came on, but as the minutes ticked by, I texted her to say she might even make it for the version.
Sure enough, Jenni showed up just as we were getting settled in the operating room. My epidural was placed – incorrectly on the first attempt (which would prove to make the next hours more uncomfortable), correctly on the second attempt. And then they got to work. The attending had an ultrasound on Shiloh, keeping a careful eye on her. And then two residents used every ounce of their strength to push Shiloh around. Due to her position, they were attempting to move her a full 270 degrees.
They made it about halfway when Shiloh’s heart rate showed she wasn’t too pleased with being manipulated. They gave her a break and let her heart rate stabilize. And then the pushing started again. Thankfully, on this final push they were able to move her all the way around to a head down position. However, Shiloh’s ability to flip was now notorious, and so they strapped me into a tight belly band to make sure she stayed in position. There was only one problem. The floor was all out of the belly band size I needed. The next size up clearly was going to do no good at keeping her in place. And so they had to strap me in to a band one size too small. It quite literally took two people to pull that thing closed around me. So yes, I entered labor with basically a tight girdle on like they used in the sixteenth century. And yes, that is about as comfortable as it sounds.
But frankly, I was just thrilled to be entering labor. Thrilled that I wasn’t going to be sent back to Ronald McDonald still pregnant. Thrilled that a vaginal delivery was still very much on the table. Thrilled that we were finally going to meet our girl.
However, as the epidural from the version wore off my elation took a nose dive. My back hurt. Really, really hurt. We’re talking about an 8 on the pain scale. And suddenly the thought of laboring with a girdle and this amount of pain…well, let’s just say I was feeling a bit defeated. I did not want to turn the epidural back on. I know I labor long and I wanted to be able to move and eat and work with Shiloh to get her into position. But I honestly didn’t know if I could do it. Not like this. I fought back tears and texted some of my closest friends to pray.
Jenni brought some OTC pain meds for me to take, and with the numbness worn off in my legs, I decided to try to get up and move around. Thankfully, movement appeared to dull the pain some.
And so doses of cervidil began, night fell, contractions settled into steady regularity, and I settled in for the long haul. Neither of my previous two labors had progressed with great speed, and I was expecting the same once again.
To be continued…
Posted on July 21, 2017
Car seats, surgery & provision
I just got off the phone with Seattle Children’s. Arabella’s open heart surgery is officially scheduled for October 5th.
We’ve known it’s coming for a long time. We knew even before she was born, that if somehow she had enough lung tissue to survive, heart surgery would be necessary at some point. In fact, we thought surgery would be necessary at a much younger age. The fact that she’s done so well until age two is a wonderful gift.
But still. An actual date written on the calendar? A month before where she needs to be kept healthy and cold free (right at the start of the preschool year…Jesus help us)? The thought of my little girl’s chest being opened up, her heart stopped so that a wall can be constructed, valves repaired. The mark of a warrior permanently etched down her chest.
Yep, that’s enough to get this mama trembling. And that’s before even starting to consider what it’s going to look like to care for my three month old during a hospital stay and recovery. Don’t get this detail-oriented brain started down that track.
Shiloh had her two week check-up earlier this week. This visit included a rundown of the early signs of heart failure to watch for. Swelling in specific locations, duskiness and/or sweating while eating, blue lips and fingertips. Add that to a constant watch of breathing patterns, of wondering where O2 sats are currently sitting. And concerns over weight gain, which means keeping feedings to a tight schedule…and wondering always, is she getting enough to be gaining enough? And after Bella’s tummy issues, there’s the vigilant checking of diapers for any sign of blood, the watching for rashes developing, the hope and prayers that I’ll be able to continue to breastfeed.
Yep, I don’t have to search very far or wide to find something to be anxious about.
We just witnessed a miracle. Again. We watched the Lord provide in a multitude of small and large things, at just the right time. I hope to sit down soon and try to recount just some of those things. For you to be encouraged, yes, but even more so so I don’t forget.
But I’m just like those Israelites. Powerfully, incredibly freed from Egypt…and almost immediately tempted to wring my hands and wonder where the next meal is going to come from.
There are lots of unknowns…and scary knowns…coming up in the next few months. But I am surviving…thriving…by doing my best to stay present in the grace of the gift of this moment. And all I have to do is open my eyes, look around me, and remember, and so much of that anxiety immediately dissipates.
One of those reminders my eyes fall on each day is Shiloh’s car seat. If you follow our little family on instagram, you’re probably already familiar with the story.
We lost (or more accurately, Alaska Airlines lost) our infant car seat traveling this past winter. Since Bella was imminently graduating from said car seat and we had a soon to expire old infant car seat, we hadn’t bothered to replace it. However, as we approached Shiloh’s birth, a debate began. We knew we would need a car seat for the car seat test at the hospital…if Shiloh had lungs large enough to breathe on this earth. But, knowing the unknowns surrounding her birth, we didn’t really want to invest in a brand new seat that might not be used. So did we take the now expired seat with us to the hospital, with the intent of immediately replacing it if we got to bring a baby home? That is what we eventually settled on, although I was a little concerned that the hospital might not let us take home a baby in an expired seat.
Fast forward to my arrival at the Ronald McDonald house (another provision…a room opened up literally hours before I needed it). A family notices my large belly and approaches to ask if I had need of a car seat. They had family visiting from overseas for two weeks who had purchased a brand new seat for their three month old. They now had no use for the seat that had barely been used and wanted to give it to me if I had need of it. Fighting back tears, I explained what a gift that would be. They brought me the seat and I once again was moved to tears when I realized it was the exact seat that would fit into the stroller we already have.
And now I strap a beautifully breathing little girl into that seat almost every day and I remember. Remember how at the right time, Jesus provided just what we needed. He has been faithful, and He will be faithful.
And so, I take a few deep breaths, and we march on. One grace-filled day at a time.
Updated on June 30, 2017
Shiloh Eve
Birthday cake has been brushed off of teeth. Stories have been read. Two sisters have been tucked into bed. And now Jeff and I sit in the lobby of Ronald McDonald, watching Bella prance around her pack ‘n play on the monitor. Sitting on the precipice. The time is here and it’s all surreal and we wonder if we’re truly ready for what lies ahead.
To be honest, I don’t have much left in me to say tonight. I feel hushed by the weight and holiness of the moment, so I’ll stick to the basics.
Here is what we know. Read More
Updated on June 30, 2017
One week & the ascent
It’s been marked on the calendar for awhile now. Shiloh day. One week from today (assuming this little one doesn’t have plans for an early arrival), we will be preparing to head into the UW to start inducement.
And so I guess you could call this early morning the dawn of Shiloh week.
For me, I feel a bit like Abraham setting out for Mount Moriah with Isaac. Release and altar waiting. With one key difference. I’ve already been here. And I’m learning that makes all the difference. Read More
Updated on June 30, 2017
The Homestretch
Monday.
Monday is departure day for me. We’ve had so much going on the past few weeks, so many events that I wanted to be fully present for, that for the most part Shiloh’s story line has quietly sat in the background. Never absent from mind or heart, but not taking center stage. There was a family reunion, preschool graduation, the dance recital, an early birthday party, and just yesterday a very special five year wedding anniversary. And so I moved from anticipating and planning and celebrating one event to the next with a one day at a time mentality, because really, no day is guaranteed to any of us.
Updated on May 23, 2017
Love in the silence
I read it mere days after our twenty week ultrasound. Days after learning we would once again be walking the road of unknowns with an EVC baby. Days after realizing that each week of pregnancy inched us towards a day that would either usher in life on this earth and deep beautiful breaths…or life in the true eternal kingdom, but death in these shadow lands that we call home. Or perhaps something in between. The start of a daily battle for life and breath, of decisions to be made – how much do we intervene? When do we let go?
We had walked the road before. We had walked it in the not so distant past, so recently that the emotions, the ups and the downs of the journey, were still fresh in our minds. How would it be the same this time? How would it be different? Read More
Updated on May 1, 2017
Let’s go fly a kite
Tonight was pure magic. And I almost missed it. Read More
Updated on April 21, 2017
And the roller coaster continues
This there and back again appointment day has been long, and I’m travel weary, but there are so many of you praying for, loving, and cheering on Miss Shiloh that I thought it only fair to give you an update tonight. This post will be neither long, nor eloquent, but merely a quick recap of the day.
We were at the Children’s Prenatal clinic again today, as Shiloh had an echo in addition to her standard ultrasound. We started out with the echo, and little Miss continued in her stubborn ways, choosing the most difficult position and refusing to budge. But eventually we were able to get good enough pictures to confirm things are continuing to grow and develop for the most part as expected. There were a couple little things that they’ll follow up on next month, but her heart continues to look like it will be able to function tolerably well until she’s big enough for surgery.
But we all know it wasn’t the echo that we were really concerned about today. Read More
Updated on April 12, 2017
It is not for you to know
Time marches relentlessly on.
If I had to identify one primary difference between Arabella’s pregnancy and this pregnancy, it would be that.
With Arabella, it seemed like a long, slow, arduous trek towards delivery day. Time creeped by, the weeks between appointments seeming to stretch out in unending cycles of waiting.
This time, we seem to turn around and another month has passed. With two kids under four, the rhythms of preschool, and dance, and work, time races on. Tomorrow, the official start of my third trimester. The final stretch.
At dance on Monday, I was handed packets of recital information, final rehearsal dates, costume requirements. As I punched dates into my phone, I watched the next two months become compressed and I found myself catapulted into June. Moving. Waiting. Shiloh arriving. Yesterday at the local OB’s office, I scheduled out the remainder of my appointments here in Wenatchee. And all of this speeding toward the finish line has my throat tight and my chest pounding and my hand instinctively reaching down to feel the turns of my daughter while the simple plea echoes for the hundredth time of the day, “Please grow that ribcage.” Read More
Updated on March 20, 2017
Release. Again.
Picture from the Jesus Storybook Bible
We arrived home from a long day – a much longer day than expected – of appointments right around bedtime for the girls. Emotionally and physically spent, my plan was to snuggle Bella, my beautiful altar and poignant picture of God’s faithfulness, and rock her as she sipped her last bit of milk of the day. But then Bella kept asking for Daddy, and Ellie pleaded for mommy to put her to bed.
I’ll be honest, in that moment the last thing I wanted to do was put my almost four year old to bed. I felt too weary for questions, too frail to shepherd her through the conclusion of this day. But with a prayer for just enough grace to be fully present, I grabbed her hand and headed to her room.
Jesus knew there were words waiting for me in that room. Read More
Recent Comments