Mr. T’s Birth Story

**I originally published this back in May, but I’ve rewritten it since then. I felt like it was a bit of a mechanical post, filled with facts about his birth but lacking the feelings I experienced during an emotional time. So, thank you for taking the time to read it again.*

 

Since Mr. T is almost 2 years old, it’s probably high time I shared his birth story.

If you’ve read my previous posts about this pregnancy; you’ll remember that it got off to a rocky start and although I felt much better going into the 2nd trimester; it was definitely a slow recovery.

And really not the “best” time for a slow recovery because we were planning a big high school graduation celebration for our oldest child and first homeschool graduate. Talk about timing!

 

My original due date was November 30th, but one evening in September that all changed.

I went through my normal bedtime routine and attempted to lay down. And that’s when intense contractions started.  They lasted for one hour, my stomach was hard as a rock and although I didn’t know exactly what was wrong; I knew something was wrong.

My husband and I determined that we needed to head to the ER immediately; we dressed quickly and called the triage nurse en route.

After being poked, examined and entered into the hospital system (yes, in that order!), it was determined that my water had ruptured! Something that had only happened in one of my previous pregnancies.

Under normal circumstances, this would have been welcoming news.

However, this news was alarming because  I was only 29 weeks pregnant.

 

Now, I’ve birthed several babies; but my naivety about what exactly a bag of ruptured water meant for me was pretty evident in the exchange I had with the doctor that delivered the news.

Doctor: “It has been determined that your membranes have ruptured, meaning your water has broken.”

Me: “Oh, okay.”

Doctor: “So what this means is that you can’t leave the hospital until you have your baby because the risk of infection is high once the membranes have ruptured.”

Me: “I beg your pardon?!” “So I have to stay here until I give birth!?”

Doctor: “That’s correct.”

Over the next three days, I was on bed rest while a series of protocol treatments were administered to me to stop labor, prevent baby brain bleeds & help Mr. T’s underdeveloped lungs.

And I was delving head first into learning about premature labor, and preemies. And being visited by specialists who would be part of the birth team.

Clinically, the physicians told me they would like labor to be held off for at least 4 weeks.

And I almost laughed out loud!

There was no way that my body (birth center of 7 babies up to that point) was going to hold this baby for 4 more weeks.  I might not have a degree, but I knew my body & I conveyed that to the team.

So, it was no surprise that five days after being in the hospital, our little guy was born! Weighing in at 3 pounds 6 ounces and successfully breathing on his own.

This was a pretty big deal for a baby born 10 weeks early….he never needed to be put on oxygen or CPAP, and for that we praise the Lord!

So, you might be wondering how I was doing emotionally.

Quite honestly, I had a lot of adjusting to do.  I couldn’t nurse my baby, but I did pump milk at regular intervals & that was fed to him through a tube.

I was thankful to be able to do that, even when it was tiring and painful.

The NICU nurses jokingly mentioned I was probably going to need a wagon to take home the milk that Mr. T didn’t use!

A few things I had to get used to:

• holding Mr. T while he was hooked up to all manner of wires and monitors
•  the peeping of machines…so many machines
• lots of medical terminology

I stayed in the hospital for three days and Mr. T remained in the hospital for five weeks.

I remember being discharged from the hospital; what an empty feeling it was to leave the hospital without our son.

An empty feeling I had only experienced with the stillborn birth of our daughter in 2006.

 

After getting physically settled at home; I turned my attention to a bag of preemie clothes a friend had purchased.  In no time, I was a puddle of tears…I missed my baby & I had only been home without him for an hour!

And while he received excellent care and I had an opportunity to minister to the nurses; it was still tough to spend only 1 hour a day at the hospital, just leave to do it all over again the next day.

 

That was the hardest part. But after the second week, the Lord really encouraged & reminded me of the peace His promises bring as I listened to a song based on Philippians 4.

Meditating on those words of truth & life enabled me to continue saying “hello and see you later” to my sweet baby without feeling like I was on an emotional rollercoaster.

Leaving Mr. T  day after day was certainly the most emotionally taxing part of this whole journey…..or so I thought.

The next 18 months would prove to be equally as challenging for various reasons, and I hope to share that story with you soon.

 

Now it’s your turn.

Have you given birth to a preemie or had a difficult birth that drew you closer to the Lord?

I’d love to hear about it!