ForgottenWoman

My Personal Story

Whose life matters? I first faced this question in a discussion with doctors about the pregnancy of my 8th child. I was over 35 and so as is common practice, doctors recommended testing for various issues. Based on ultrasound pictures and a few other tests it was determined that my son was a Down’s baby. I remember where I sat and how I felt as the doctor began talking about our next appointment. She said that we were going to schedule the next tests to determine if their findings were correct. She then looked at me and said, “Once we are 100% certain, you can decide what you’re going to do.” As I looked at her in disbelief she stood back and asked, “Is there a problem?” “What do you mean decide what we’re going to do?” I asked. She responded, “Well, if it is confirmed that this is a Down’s baby then we would recommend that you go ahead and terminate the pregnancy now.” With that, I swung my legs off of the table, I stood up and I looked at the doctor and I said, “We won’t be doing any further testing because regardless of whether this is a Down’s baby or what you consider a normal baby I’m going to love him. I’m going to raise him and God has a purpose for his life. That was the end of the conversation with that doctor. But it shocked me. It shook me to my core.

When this precious child named Zachary was about a year old I got sick with the flu. We knew after a week that I wasn’t getting any better and that something was seriously wrong. Several visits to doctors and blood tests revealed that my red cell count was three. This is not just anemia – this is extreme anemia. I was so weak that I couldn’t raise my head off of my pillow. Talk about a useless momma to 8 precious kids! The guilt I experienced during those weeks of sickness was at times overwhelming. This was one of those periods of my life that I felt helpless to be and do all of the things that I wanted to be and do! My doctors suspected some sort of blood cancer/disorder and were very strongly recommending a hysterectomy. There was a glitch, however. The doctors didn’t believe that I was strong enough to live through surgery in the shape I was in. So I began working to build my blood system up. I spent time in a cancer center having some sort of infusions beside cancer patients receiving chemotherapy and I began intentionally taking in as many nutrients naturally as I could to boost my system. When the doctor told me that my blood counts were more in the normal range (They had gone from a 3 to a 9 and finally to 12) I was excited to be feeling stronger and to be given the go ahead to take care of my family. He also told me he wanted to give me a little time to get stronger before we did the hysterectomy. I was overjoyed to be functioning again more normally – and it never crossed my mind that my body that had been going through so much would even be capable of again becoming pregnant.

Let me pause here and just say something. I know for a fact that you will never experience the joy of the depth of God’s grace if you’re unwilling to follow Him and trust Him and walk through whatever waters He may have for you to walk through. I promise you that His grace is sufficient for us but our part is obedience to His will. Very shortly after getting back to life as normal (as normal as life can be with 8 amazing children) I was surprised to suspect pregnancy. I actually did 6 home pregnancy tests before I could believe that the Lord intended for me to have number 9! Talk about terror. I wanted no one to know. However, I felt strong and determined.

*I was 8 weeks along in this precarious pregnancy when I began experiencing symptoms of a miscarriage. My husband and our 8 children were in the bed sleeping. I did what I often do when I need to be quiet and just spend some time with the Lord.

(Many of us today are familiar with the movie called the War Room. I would have to say that my bathroom and more specifically my bathtub has been my “war room” since childhood. Looking back, I can recount thousands of hours and memories of intense prayer times in the privacy of my personal bathtub.)

On this particular night, as I crawled into the tub, I silently prayed and asked the Lord for some very specific things. As any woman who has carried a baby knows, it doesn’t take long for you to begin to feel attached to this new life growing inside of you. And even though this pregnancy had been a shock and even though my health was not optimal, I had grown accustomed to the idea that I was going to have another baby. We had told our oldest children that we were again expecting and as I prayed, I asked the Lord to help not only myself accept this loss but I was asking for help in navigating this with my family. This would be a new kind of loss for my husband and children who had never been through the experience of miscarriage.

As I prayed and then sat silently, I began to feel that the still small voice of the Holy Spirit was speaking to my heart. In our world of sensationalism, adding to Scripture and “blaming God” for words and actions by saying “God spoke to me,” I want to be very clear in sharing this part of my story. I did not hear a voice booming from heaven. I did not feel any sensation of chills or even have 100% knowledge that I was hearing that still small voice of the Holy Spirit’s direction. There was a possibility that I was reasoning with myself – thinking through what I knew about God, what I had experienced in my past and simply talking myself through a scary situation.

Stay with me, because I would later know beyond a doubt that these moments were in fact, the work of the Holy Spirit in my life. He was preparing me for the days, weeks and months ahead. What I remember very clearly going through my mind? “Joy, what is your belief about abortion? When looking back and remembering the details, I do get chills and tearful as I recall what felt like a conversation with my Heavenly Father. I remember laying my head back on the side of the tub and saying, “Well Lord, I don’t believe abortion is ever an option. I’ve been that person that talks to people about when life begins. I’m that person who has passionately spoken with teen girls and begged them to give their babies a chance. I’m that person who has stood on the side of the highway holding signs on behalf of the voiceless…” And then that still small voice put the thought in my heart and mind- a thought that I knew I had never really considered before! “What if the life of the mother is in danger?” I remember turning my head to the side and actually looking up; as if I was looking into the face of my Heavenly Father and I said; “Well, I don’t know, but it doesn’t matter what I think about that; because that doesn’t really ever happen!”

That’s when I felt that the Holy Spirit very clearly spoke to my heart and said, “Joy, it’s going to happen to you.” It was in that moment that I began to weep as I was praying out loud. I said, ” But Lord, I have a husband and eight other children.” “Yeah, I know that.” And then I said, “Lord, they need me.” “Joy, do you trust me?” It was then that my mind scrolled back through all of the years in my adult life that I had been forced to trust my Heavenly Father when nothing made sense. I thought about the worst night of my entire life to that point; which was the night that my young husband was taken suddenly and I was left as a 23 year-old widow with two babies to raise on my own. That had made no sense to me. And without a doubt, I still didn’t know all of the reasons this had been my life. But what I did know was that my Heavenly Father had never left me. What I did know was that my Heavenly Father had loved those two baby boys even more than I did. He had walked with us every step of our lives through the hard times, through the excruciatingly painful times, through the dark nights of fear and doubt. He was continuing to teach us to trust Him, to serve Him to make a difference in this world for Him.

Laying there in that tub I continued to recount Who He is and what He had done over the years. He had given me six more amazing children to raise. “Joy, remember how in your darkest moments in 1987 you never dreamed you would have these six more beautiful lives to be Mom to?” “I did that! I gave you this beautiful family!”

And as I lay there in that bathtub thinking I was losing my child, I was having a conversation with my Heavenly Father that would change the course of our future. I had no idea at the time – I just knew I was praying and responding to every thought that popped into my head. The next thought that rolled through was this. “Joy, I know all. I know every detail of the future and you do not. I am God. You are not. You need to trust me.” “But what if I die?” “You must know that if you die, I (the One Who does know what is best for your family, the One Who loves those 8 other children beyond what you can imagine, the One Who loves your husband) I have someone better to step in as wife and mother for them – I will take care of them!” Those thoughts still take my breath away today. I was not and am not the star of the story. God can do what He wants to do with or without me!

As I dried my tears I was certain of a few things. I knew that I was going to face something that I had never dreamed I would face. I knew that my Heavenly Father was not going to be surprised and that He was preparing me for it. And I knew that whatever happend: God was in control and could be trusted.

I wiped my tears and washed my face and I told my Heavenly Father that I was going to trust Him. I got out of the bathtub. I crawled into the bed and I waited. I did finally fall asleep and woke up the next morning not sure if I was still carrying a baby or not…

I made an appointment with the doctor and afterwards I had lunch with a dear friend. The doctor’s appointment revealed that there was still a heartbeat but the doctor cautioned me greatly that he did not like what he saw. He did not give me any details but he told me that he did not expect me to carry this pregnancy to term and he wanted me to let him know if there were any more signs of trouble. I left the doctor’s office and met my friend for lunch and there I shared with her my “war room” conversation with my Heavenly Father from the night before. She was the only person that I told about that incredible experience and I don’t even remember why I shared it with her. It was such a personal thing and something that is hard to describe without sounding sensational and irrational. My decisions in the future would rely heavily on a confidence gained in that “war room” prayer time and my friend would be a testimony to the validity when she sat beside me later and said, “Joy, God prepared you for this time. Remember when you told me this was going to happen?”

God has the right to decide who lives and who dies! Yes, I spoke to the Lord about my other eight children! Do you know what continually ran through my mind? “I know, Joy. I love them more than you do. If you don’t live through this pregnancy then that is what is best for those children!” While frightening thoughts came and went throughout the following days I kept telling myself that His ways have never been my ways and that His will is always best. (Even when I don’t understand it and cannot see how!) Often my heart remembered the pain and grief of losing Jonnie and I found myself repeatedly accepting that as hard as it is for me to understand; sometimes what seems the worst thing that can happen is what God allows and uses for our good and His glory. We simply have to trust and obey! AND, we constantly have to place ourselves humbly before Him and submit ourselves to whatever He desires to use for our good and His glory.

In the following couple of appointments with doctors I wasn’t given any more specifics. I was warned repeatedly that things were not normal but that’s all I really new. My calendar began to fill up as further tests with other high risk specialists were scheduled. On Wednesday, of week 18 in pregnancy (according to records I’ve obtained) I saw two specialists who did extensive testing. The memory of the building, the waiting room, the smell of the examination room and my emotions during the second appointment on this Wednesday are all as fresh as if it was yesterday. I was alone in the office with the doctor after her full examination and tests as she told me simply that I had placenta previa. For those who are not familiar, this is where the placenta is at the bottom of the uterus instead of surrounding the baby as it should be. In my case it was complete previa; which meant that none of it was where it should have been. My case was complicated by the fact that I had already had 8 previous C-Sections due to my RA and the complications surrounding my pelvic area. The doctor then told me that it appeared there was a possibility of Acreta as well. As she made this statement, she took my hand and explained: this is where the placenta is not only in the wrong place, but is growing through the uterine wall. It appeared possible that it was growing through the previous C Section scars which would mean a great possibility of rupture. The doctor went on to tell me that statistically at that time they knew a few things. One of them was that for women who had gone through 4 previous C-Sections, placenta previa was incredibly dangerous. Placenta Acreta was a death sentence. There was no record of anyone with more than 4 previous sections surviving. While she wanted me to be aware of the possibility; she assured me that she was unable to make a concrete diagnosis of Acreta at that time. She thought it was a possibility, but she also wanted me to know how rare it would be and we could hope it was not the case. So, with my head full of possibilities and no real answers. I was sent home and told not to lift anything, and to be very careful. The one statement that she left me with was this. “At the next sight of any blood, call an ambulance. Imagine someone having all of your blood in a pitcher – and it will be emptied in 5 minutes. That’s the amount of time we will have to save you if my suspicions are correct.”

I went home on that Wednesday and asked Mason to take me to dinner so that I could explain to him what I had learned during my visit with the specialists. We had dinner at a little german restaurant and I did my best to relay the information. I can’t tell you what he thought or how he felt, but I; being the glass half full person didn’t feel fear at this point. I felt certain that everything would be just fine!

It was Saturday of that same week that I spent most of the day at the baseball fields with children playing little league. Our two teen sons had gone to work at a local restaurant for the evening and I was preparing dinner. When I lifted a lasagna out of the oven, I felt a small twinge in my side – kind of like a “pull” but as any Mom knows, we feel all sorts of things while carrying our babies and I didn’t think it was anything to be concerned about. It was around midnight, while lying on the couch waiting for my teen boys to arrive home from work, that I rolled over on the couch and knew immediately that something was wrong. It wasn’t a spot of blood, but a gush. I crawled up the stairs yelling to awaken Mason and he got on the phone with the doctor. An ambulance was called and after much confusion (a ‘normal’ miscarriage isn’t really an emergency – and explaining the situation to the rescue crew wasn’t an easy one) I was whisked away to Asheville with my eldest boys standing on the porch watching.

Mason followed the ambulance. I cannot speak for my husband or my sons and their feelings that night; but I can speak for my own. While I stared out of the back of the ambulance during the drive I could only pray for my family and keep looking at the time. I could hear my doctor’s words over and over in my head, “We will have 5 minutes to save you!” The time was passing and I was still alive and alert. Apparently, there was a crack in the pitcher but it wasn’t being poured out yet. God was at work!

I am telling you the story of how God held my entire family in the palm of His hand and walked each of us through a very difficult few months. All day Sunday I was visited by doctor after doctor and machine after machine was brought into the room. They were afraid to move me.

We were told on Sunday evening by a nurse that we would probably spend about five days in the hospital and once I was stabilized they would send me home. She may have been a half glass full person too, or she may just have not been given all of the information yet and was basing her thoughts on a normal pregnancy with a little hickup.

You can imagine my shock when on Monday morning I was told by the highest-ranked specialist in the hospital that we had a serious problem. I was again alone when he came in and did his exam with a machine that was brought to the room. He began to whisper to me and tell me that my condition was extremely grave. I can still hear that whisper! He asked where Mason was and I explained that he had gone to work. He told me to get him there immediately and I made the phone call.

While we were waiting for Mason, the doctor began to tell me (still whispering) that the situation was indeed grave and my life was in serious danger. He said I needed an emergency hysterectomy in order to save my life. Of course, in my mind I was thinking, “But what about my baby?” When I asked him, he simply shook his head. A few minutes later, as he continued to whisper his warnings to me, he would tell me that there was no baby – only a fetus that had no chance. As he was speaking my mind was going crazy! I realized that he was talking about aborting my child to save my life.

I was too stunned to say anything until Mason walked in. That was when I started to cry. The doctor repeated his findings to Mason and told him that they needed to let the O R know immediately so they could get a room. I began to shake my head NO.

Mason looked at me and said something to the effect of, “Joy, the doctor is saying that this has to be done.” If you were to ask him one of our biggest differences, he would say that he is a realist and I am; well, not. I continued to shake my head NO and the doctor asked Mason to go into the hall with him. This was when I began praying that they would listen to me, that someone would give some credibility to my stance. When Mason returned, he told me that the doctor had told him that I would not live if they put this off even for 24 hours. He told me that the doctor was saying he had to choose between my life and the life of the baby. He said he had to choose me. Sobbing, I begged him to listen to me. I told him that this was not his decision. I told him that it was mine and I was conscious and able to make it. I told him that God had prepared me for this and I knew what we had to do.

Now before you judge Mason too harshly; put yourself in his position. Doctors were telling him that our baby had no chance of survival and if we didn’t consent to the hysterectomy, he would lose his wife and the mother of his eight other children. We couldn’t even discuss it. I couldn’t stop crying and he kept being pulled away and talked to by the doctors. He finally decided to leave the hospital and told the doctor we would have a decision by the next morning.

I knew he was upset with me, felt I was being unreasonable, emotional and irrational. But I also knew that God had prepared me for this very time. I prayed all night that the Lord would put us on the same page. I prayed that if I was wrong, He would show me. I knew that I wasn’t. I don’t say that for any other reason than to say that this was one time in my life that I knew beyond a doubt what I was supposed to do and I had the confidence to fight all of the strong voices in my life. I knew that while God had prepared me for this, it was a shock to everyone else involved.

During the course of that night we heard from many people expressing their love and ensuring us of their prayers. What struck me as so distressing was that very few seemed to understand my position. Godly people were telling me to analyze every angle and seek God’s wisdom. Many were reminding me of how hard it would be to be in Mason’s position. Others were expressing concern about my ability to see the reality of what was happening. Some questioned my ability to let go of a baby that God didn’t intend for me to have. Without hesitation, I can tell you that if God had taken my baby, I would have accepted it – just like I did my miscarriage and the other deaths that I’ve had to deal with in my life. I just didn’t see this as a decision for me to make. I saw this as God’s decision to make.

By Tuesday morning, Mason had returned and agreed that we would not follow the doctor’s advice and that we would give this baby every opportunity to live. I would learn later that he had reached out to a gentleman that he respected; and this man had told him that it appeared God had prepared me for this and he needed to trust me with the decision.

Thus began 6 incredibly difficult weeks that I would not have chosen for any member of my family to endure, but that because God is God: He is able to cause ALL things to work together for our good and His glory!

Let me assure you, I understood exactly what was happening. I had doctors who came into my room every morning around 6 and expressed their shock that I was still there. They were very concerned that I was doing something that was going to cost me my life and since I was in a teaching hospital the crowd that they brought in with them was repeatedly told what the doctors thought about my decision. Have you ever felt like a science project or more accurately, a freak to be studied? That is what I felt like most days. I woke up every morning to fear gripping my heart that this might be the day. Every day as my children visited I wondered if I would see them again or if they were going to be left without a mom. And every day I opened my Bible and I read and I prayed until my spirit was once again calmed and I was trusting my Heavenly Father to see me through. Did I believe I would die? I had no idea! Everyone said I was going to and I knew that statistically I didn’t have a chance of surviving once my uterus did rupture. But I also knew that if God willed, He could bring me through this alive. That is where the grace to trust when you cannot see the outcome comes in. That is where we are called to live out what we say we believe. What will happen? Only what God allows! Either He is God or He is not. I had to rest in the fact that I did believe that He is God. The doctor who was so insistent that I abort became as frustrated with me as I was with him. He crossed the line with me on a Tuesday when he came into the room while my teen boys were visiting. (This was the one day a week that my teen sons were given a break from caring for their 6 siblings while a friend of mine took the youngers into her home) In my doctor’s gravest voice he told me again that I was making a decision that would certainly cost me my life. He reiterated that I had 0% chance of survival and he looked at my sons as he said something like, “Your mother is more concerned about this fetus than she is you.” My eldest son stood and asked the doctor to leave the room. He (the highest ranking high risk specialist in the hospital) was in that moment fired. My nurses came running into the room asking what had happened and I told them I needed a new doctor.

Just a little while later he sent his partner in to talk with me. She entered the room looking at me as if I was an alien and introduced herself as the partner of my previous doctor. She asked if we could talk; saying that she didn’t understand what I was doing and I needed to explain it to her. She told me that once I explained myself she would decide whether she was willing to take me on as her patient or not. As she sat beside my bed for the next 45 minutes to an hour I did my best to explain my faith in The Almighty, All-knowing, Creator God. I told her about my young adult life, widowhood and struggling to parent my sons alone and how God had seen me through so many things already. I told her that He had created this baby and it was my place to trust Him with what happened next. I told her directly that if I didn’t live through this, that God had someone better who would raise my children. She tearfully asked me many questions concerning my understanding of my condition. After our talk, she stood up with tears she hugged me she told me that she did not understand me at all but that she believed that I was mentally aware and was making an informed decision. She then told me that she met a lot of people who said they were Christians but she had never seen anyone who seemed to really believe in the God they talked about or trust Him with their life. She told me that she was taking over my case and that she was going to do everything medically possible to help both me and my baby live.

Later that day a team from the OR arrived and explained to me that a PICC line would be inserted in the main artery leading to my heart. This was to allow for transfusions now and when the inevitable happened. This was usually done in the OR but because I could not be moved, it was done in my room. My friend, Beth held my left hand as the PICC line was inserted that afternoon. Also that afternoon, efforts were begun to gather blood for me. There were many papers for me to sign stating the fact that I knew my life was in danger – but I had made my decision. Many papers were also signed giving the doctor’s permission to remove whatever was necessary to save my life. The hospital also began sending counselors in to make sure I understood the decision that I had made and all of the implications. This constant theme lasted a few days before I convinced them that I was not budging.

For the next six weeks, I lay there in that bed. My children were my greatest concern. There was a calendar posted on the wall in front of me counting down the days (to reach week 24) and all over the walls were plastered verses written and typed out by my children and cards from people who were praying. Back then we didn’t have the social media avenue of letting people know what was going on – and the loneliness of my situation was one of the more traumatic experiences of my life. Each Friday night Mason would come from work and bring me a steak dinner and salad. This was a highlight – for a few minutes I felt part human. At home my precious teenage sons survived with their 6 young siblings: with the help of my mother and meals brought in by friends when possible. I could not even imagine then or now what they were going through or what my little ones, who only understood that Momma was not at home, were going through.

As I cried day and night for them I had to continually remind myself that God knew the future and He knew what was best for them and He was the One with the right to make the decisions. He was allowing this and I had to ‘on purpose’ keep putting my trust in Him. When my children would visit me I would ask that they sing for me and they never got away without singing “Tis So Sweet to Trust in Jesus.” On one particular night, my brothers and their families were also visiting. There were at least 24 people in my room singing “Tis So Sweet to Trust in Jesus” as I lay in the bed too weak to sing but understanding the meaning of what was being sung. I held back the sobs until my family was gone and then let all of my fear and anxiety flow through the tears that I really didn’t want my children to see. Later that night my nurse came in to tell me that my previous doctor had stood outside the door of my room and listened to the entire song. She said he had walked away with a stunned look on his face and a shaking of his head. I pray today that he still hears those voices singing about trusting in Jesus.

I invite you into my heart and mind for a few days. The following are journal entries as I wrote them from my hospital bed. They end when the hospital decided to bring me a computer for my journal. The records of those computerized journals are yet to be found. I may have shared some of this in a previous post, but these were my written journal words from the hospital.

“I entered the hospital Saturday, actually Sunday around 2 a.m. Saturday and been a pretty slow day. I was feeling down, slow and generally not real well. I lifted a casserole dish out of the oven and felt a burning at supper time but I thought little more of it. Our teen sons were working Saturday night and I was relaxing on the couch waiting for them when I dozed off. I woke at midnight and discovered blood. Not wanting to wake up the children after my initial call to him, I carefully made my way upstairs to find Mason. I found him and I showed him what was going on and then laid down. The blood was not pouring but trickling down my legs enough to frighten both of us. Mason called the doctor and found that my doctor was out of town. This was upsetting because he is a Christian man who has assured me of his prayers regarding my care and I have learned to trust him. His partner returned our call and told us to call an ambulance – not knowing how serious things were for sure. We also didn’t know if the boys were headed home from work yet. Mason called for an ambulance. The First Responders were very young and very ill-prepared and very slow to act. It was a great relief when the second and third crews arrived and there seemed to be a little more experience and knowledge there. After checking my vitals, they decided to carry me down the stairs sitting upright in a kitchen chair. I realized during all of this that our boys had arrived home about the same time all of the EMT folks had. I figured out later that they actually watched the first car with flashing lights come down the drive and wondered what was happening. Once in the ambulance, it took 15 minutes to get an IV in. For some reason my veins were not cooperating and it took five or six tries in different areas. The ride to the hospital was another 50 to 60 minutes. My vitals were all stable and the bleeding controlled. Upon arrival at the hospital I was taken to labor and delivery where a team of doctors began a series of tests and exams. A sterile exam revealed a pool of watery blood inside of me but gave no conclusive answers. Ultrasound revealed a breathing baby and a complete previa which we already knew about. At this point there were no conclusions as to the cause of the bleeding. At one point the interns guessed that my water had broken but ultrasound revealed plenty of fluid around the baby. The consensus seemed to be that the placenta was bleeding – which sometimes happens continually with previa patients. I felt reassured; realizing that I would probably be here for awhile but also knowing this was a normal thing for previa patients. I was transferred on Sunday afternoon to the Maternal Fetal department at the hospital and told that I would be here until the bleeding stopped. They were guessing 7 to 10 days probably. The rest of Sunday was pretty quiet. The bleeding continued but was slower than late Saturday and early Sunday. Monday was a very difficult day. It began with a call from my doctor. He sounded a little upset that we were in this hospital and explained that he does not have privileges to care for me here. This, of course was upsetting to me. I shed many tears and then determined to request a transfer. He encouraged us to find the head honcho doctor and find out what was going on. A little later Monday, after Mason left for work and while my mother and children were in my room visiting with me; a doctor and an intern entered very soberly requesting to have a very serious talk with me. I called Mason and ask him to come back. In this meeting we would find out that there was no chance of being transferred to another hospital!

While we were waiting for Mason, the doctor began to tell me (still whispering) that the situation was indeed grave and my life was in serious danger. He said I needed an emergency hysterectomy in order to save my life. Of course, in my mind I was thinking, “But what about my baby?” When I asked him, he simply shook his head. Later he would tell me that there was no baby – only a fetus that had no chance. As he was speaking my mind was going crazy! I realized that he was talking about aborting my child to save my life. I was too stunned to say anything until Mason walked in. That was when I started to cry. The doctor repeated his findings to Mason and told him that they needed to let the O R know immediately so they could get a room. I began to shake my head NO. Mason looked at me and said something to the effect of, “Joy, the doctor is saying that this has to be done.” If you were to ask him one of our biggest differences, he would say that he is a realist and I am well, not. I continued to shake my head NO and the doctor asked Mason to go into the hall with him. This was when I began praying that they would listen to me, that someone would give some credibility to my stance. When Mason returned, he told me that the doctor had told him that I would not live if they put this off even for 24 hours. He told me that the doctor was saying he had to choose between my life and the life of the baby. He said he had to choose me. Sobbing, I begged him to listen to me. I told him that this was not his decision. I told him that it was mine and I was conscious and able to make it. I told him that God had prepared me for this and I knew what we had to do. Now before you judge Mason too harshly; put yourself in his position. Doctors were telling him that our baby had no chance of survival and if we didn’t consent to the hysterectomy, he would lose his wife and the mother of his eight other children. We couldn’t even discuss it. I couldn’t stop crying and he kept being pulled away and talked to by the doctors. He finally decided to leave the hospital and told the doctor we would have a decision by the next morning. I knew he was upset with me, felt I was being unreasonable, emotional and irrational. But I also knew that God had prepared me for this very time. I prayed all night that the Lord would put us on the same page. I prayed that if I was wrong He would show me. I knew that I wasn’t. I don’t say that for any other reason than to say that this was one time in my life that I knew beyond a doubt what I was supposed to do and I had the confidence to fight all of the strong voices in my life. I knew that while God had prepared me for this, it was a shock to Mason. During the course of that night we heard from many people expressing their love and ensuring us their prayers. What struck me as so distressing was that very few seem to understand my position. Godly people were telling me to analyze every angle and seek God’s wisdom. Many were reminding me of how hard it would be to be in Mason’s position. Others were expressing concern or my ability to see the reality of what was happening. Some questioned my ability to let go of a baby that God didn’t intend for me to have. Without hesitation I can tell you that if God had taken my baby, I would have accepted it – just like I did my miscarriage and the other deaths that I’ve had to deal with in my life. I just didn’t see this as a decision for me to make. I saw this as God’s decision to make. By Tuesday morning, Mason had returned and agreed that we would not follow the doctor’s advice and we would give this baby every opportunity we could to live. I would learn later that he had reached out to a gentleman that he respected; and this man had told him that it appeared God had prepared me for this and he needed to trust me with the decision. Doctors at this hospital are really pushing for surgery daily based on the amount of bleeding and fear that the placenta has invaded the wall of the uterus and will cause a rupture. A rupture would mean the loss of my life. My doctor keeps telling me that I have ZERO% chance of survival and I am throwing my life away for a fetus who also has ZERO% chance.

My feelings are very complicated. #1 no situation in my life should be faced without direction and wisdom from God and He doesn’t seem to figure into their thinking at all. Just last week the ultrasound performed by Dr. C (another high risk doctor) was believed to have been encouraging: at least for now. She felt there was a definite line of separation indicating there was no invasion so far. To my thinking, the bleeding right now is not from a rupture so why conclude that it is leading up to it? Yes, I have been told the statistics. 4 previous C Sections makes Previa very dangerous. I have had 8. They keep reminding me. I believe at this time that the Lord desires for us to wait and trust Him. I am going to believe that this is bleeding from Previa until there is evidence proving otherwise. It is very insulting to be spoken to like I don’t understand the seriousness of the situation when it is my life we are discussing. I have a precious family that I cannot bear to be separated from. This is the last place I would choose to be and the most difficult place I’ve ever been. I desperately want my family to be okay. I don’t, however, want to interfere with God’s plan and choose convenience over His will. I am being accused of being unrealistic and having an overly charismatic faith and an oversimplified trust in God. But, I cannot think of any other way.

Psalm 11 verse 3 says if the foundations be destroyed what can the righteous do? My foundation has to be faith in an all-powerful God. How can I trust medical experience over that? It’s not stupid. It’s not blind to trust Him. It’s not silly to beg Him to intervene and keep me safe until the baby can survive; to ask Him to do his desired work: strengthening the faith of myself, my husband and each of my children. Psalm 10 verse 4: “For the wicked through the pride of his countenance will not seek after God. God is not in all his thoughts.” Mentioning God to these doctors is always turned around to good positive thoughts which has nothing to do with my Almighty, All-powerful God. I’m not blindly trusting good luck, positive thinking or “the gods”. I am trusting God: Creator and Savior, the One who created me, each member of my family, this new baby and the One Who has a plan and purpose for everything we face. Psalm 3, “ Lord, how are they increased that trouble me. Many are they that rise up against me, many there be which say of my soul there is no help for him in God. But thou, oh Lord are a shield for me, my glory and the lifter a mine head. I Cried unto the Lord with my voice and He heard me out of his Holy Hill. I laid me down and slept I await. For the Lord sustained me all my life.” I’ve heard it taught my entire life: God is in control. God can do anything He pleases. We are to claim the promises of His Word. We are to trust Him. We are to cry out to Him and ask for His intervention. Then when a hard situation arises we are told not to be foolish and blindly trust God but trust the doctors who have years of experience . Psalm 14: “The fool has said in his heart there is no God. They are corrupt and called not upon the Lord. Psalm 78:35 “…and they remembered that God was their Rock and the high God their redeemer.” Verse 53, “… and He led them on safely so that they feared not.” Psalm 77: “ I Cried unto God with my voice even unto God with my voice and He gave ear unto me in the day of my trouble. I sought the Lord. My sore ran in the night and ceased not. My soul refuse to be comforted. I will remember the years of the right hand of the Most High. I will remember the works of the Lord; surely, I will remember thy wonders of old. Psalm 73:28 but it is good for me to draw near to God. I put my trust in the Lord that I may declare all thy works. Psalm 71: In thee, O Lord, I put my trust. Let me never be put to confusion. Deliver me in thy righteousness and cause me to escape. Incline Thine ear unto me and save me. Be thou my strong habitation whereunto I may constantly resort. Thou has given commandment to save me, for Thou art my rock and my fortress. Oh God, be not far from me. Oh my God, make haste for my help. Verse 14: But I will hope continually and will yet praise Thee more and more. Chapter 72: 18 Blessed be the Lord God. the Lord God of Israel Who does wondrous things. Psalm 69 Save me O God for the waters are come unto my soul. I sink in deep mire where there is no standing. I am coming to deep waters where the floods overflow me. I am weary of my crying. My throat is dry my eyes fail while I wait for my God A new day: Give us help from trouble; for vain is the help of man. Through God we shall do valiantly. Psalm 63:6 When I remember Thee upon my bed and meditate on Thee in the night watches Thy right hand upholds me. Psalm 62:11 God has spoken once; twice have I heard this; that power belongest unto God. Psalm 62:1 5 Truly my soul waited upon God. My soul waiteth only upon God; for my expectation is from Him. Trust in Him at all times you people; pour out your heart before him. God is a refuge for us. Be merciful unto me Oh God, be merciful unto me; for my soul trusteth in thee. In the shadow of Thy wings will I make my refuge until these calamities be overpast. Psalm 53 The fool has said in his heart there is no God. Corrupt are they and they have done abdominal iniquity. Therefore, there is none that doeth good. God look down from heaven upon the children of men to see if there were any that did understand that did seek God. Psalm 55:22 Cast thy burden upon the Lord and He shall sustain thee. He shall never suffer the righteous to be moved. Psalm 56:3 What time I am afraid I will trust in thee. Psalm 50:15 Call upon Me in the day of trouble I will deliver thee and thou shalt glorify me. Psalm 51:10 Create in me a clean heart, O God and renew a right spirit within me. Psalm 40: 13 Be pleased, Oh Lord, to deliver me. O Lord make haste to help me. The Lord be magnified. Psalm 37 Trust in the Lord and do good; so shalt thou dwell in the land, and verily thou shalt be fed. Delight thyself also in the Lord and He shall give thee the desires of thy heart. Commit that way into the Lord, trust also in Him and He shall bring it to pass. Wait on the Lord, Joy. Trust in the Lord, Joy. Psalm 102 Hear my prayer, O Lord and let me cry unto thee. Hide not thy face from me in the day when I am in trouble. Incline thine ear unto me in the day when I call. Answer me speedily for my days are consumed like smoke and my bones are burned as a hearth. My heart is smitten and withered like grass so that I forget to eat my bread. Psalm 27 For in the time of trouble He shall hide me in His pavilion. In the secret of His tabernacle shall He hide me. He shall set me up upon a rock. Teach me Thy way, O Lord and lead me in a plain path. I had fainted unless I had believed to see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living. Wait on the Lord, be of good courage and He shall strengthen thine heart. Wait I say on the Lord. Yesterday was an emotional rollercoaster beginning with the morning bleeding. It did not become heavy but did not stop. It continued all day until around 7 p.m. At this time I begged the Lord from my bed to stop the bleeding and give us a reprieve from the bleeding and nerve-wracking feelings that come with it. Praise the Lord from 7 through 8:25 this morning there’s not even been any spotting. I have had a difficult day and am feeling quite fatigued. I accepted to sleep aid offer to me last night and had the best night’s rest I’ve had yet. This morning I am thanking the Lord for the hope that I feel for the first time in several days and I’ve asked for at least two weeks of no bleeding. I trust him to do or not to do as He chooses and I thank Him ahead of time for His perfect care for my family, my baby and for me. Wednesday began with a morning bleed and a visit from one of the interns. She answered questions concerning the high level of concern the doctors have expressed and left me once again begging God for faith to trust in Him. For the first time since entering the hospital I fell into uncomfortable sobs and struggled to calm down. I didn’t want Mason to leave me and I needed to get my thoughts under control. I asked Mason to pray with me and for me and I immediately began to calm down. Soon after, I began reading through the Psalms again and this time writing verses down and claiming them as well as trying to implant them in my mind. After about 30 minutes of this another doctor arrived. She is the partner of the doctor E who has recommended immediate surgery. She’s spent a great deal of time with me. As she was leaving my children and my friend Karen arrived to visit. My children realized they had forgotten to bring a clean gown and my friend immediately ran out and brought several back to me to choose from. I’m realizing what a treasure of friends the Lord has surrounded me with. I never knew… the love and prayers expressed during this time have been extraordinary. Baby boy and I have been placed on so many prayer lists and prayer chains. I’d like to have a list! last night around 7 I was overwhelmed with a wonderful sense of peace; knowing that there were believers all over in prayer meetings across the country remembering us. What a wonderful blessing. I opened my Bible this morning to Psalms of praise for dramatic deliverance. The bleeding has stopped for 14 hours.

Well, almost exactly 24 hours – the bleeding has begun again. I praise the Lord for the reprieve and ask Him again to help me trust Him completely. Once again my fear is overwhelming. “Thou will keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on Thee. Thou will keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on Thee. Thou will keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on Thee. Make haste to help me oh Lord. He careth for me. Make haste to help me, oh Lord“ This morning I am reading from James. Blessed happy is the one who endures. It develops growth in Christ-likeness. James wrote this book about faith that works. Faith without works cannot be called faith. Faith without works is dead. Faith must produce. It must be visible. Verbal faith is not enough. It must be acted upon. Faith endures trials. Faith develops endurance. Faith overtly responds to the promise of God. Faith displays itself in works. Faith is more than mere words, much more than knowledge. It is demonstrated in obedience. Faith that produces no change in attitude and actions is not a saving faith. God has a gracious purpose in His dealings with us. James Christian: Christian James… his name is going to be; no, his name is James Christian. Be patient, Joy, and let God work. Ask for Wisdom. Ask for Faith to believe and obey God. Don’t waver in your faith. Friday morning the doctor just came in and just as I am planning to change my calendar to week 22 beginning today, she explains that I’ve made it to week 20. I asked for the reason for the discrepancy and she said they were using the date from my original doctor’s visit and first ultrasound. She said they will look into the difference and let me know. I will trust in the Lord. I will trust in the Lord. Not too much bleeding during the night but a lot when I woke this morning. Oh Lord, I need a verse for today. I opened my Bible to Psalm 127 then Psalm 128, the last verse and asked the Lord to allow me to claim this verse.

This morning I am really struggling with my thoughts. I’m not sure what is taking place within my body. There’s so much bleeding. I’m going to pour out my heart before God and make my request to Him Who is able to do above all that I could ever ask or think. Philippians 4:4 Rejoice in the Lord always and again I say rejoice. Let your moderation be known unto all men. The Lord is at hand. Be careful for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication with Thanksgiving let your requests be made known unto God. And the peace of God which passeth all understanding shall keep your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus. Finally brethren, whatsoever things are honest, just, pure, lovely, of good report: think on these things. My nurse is a very kind and encouraging lady. She just left . She was explaining to me that the doctors are wanting to put two pic lines in. These are longer IV things that go into the main veins in order to last longer than a regular IV and be ready for transfusions. I’m trusting God to not need a transfusion, not to have an emergency surgery, etc. My doctor just entered and said she’s a little encouraged by the amount of bleeding I’m having and encouraged me to continue taking things one day at a time. She is putting the PICC line in with two lines and I guess I’ll get that sometime today. I’m nervous about that but I’m desperately trying to do as God’s word says: trust in the Lord and think on the things that are true, just, pure. She also reassured me that if my date is 22 weeks and theirs is 20, she will have the neonatalist present to assess the baby’s age and development at birth – to hopefully insure that he is given care. But she said we’re going to do our best to make it through the month and get past both of those points. I just need to get to week 24 so that they will take him to the NICU. This morning I am reminded of Ron Hamilton’s song, “Little by Little” . I can’t stare up the stairs. I have to step up the steps. I can’t look at the mountains ahead of me. I literally must take one baby step at a time until I get to the other side of this enormous mountain. I’m really afraid of this pic line thing but I think it’s wise to allow them to put it in and be ready if God chooses a path different than what we are asking for. Today I prayed again and I asked the Lord to put a complete stop to the bleed for several days: maybe even weeks. Come on faith, stop wavering. I struggle with contradictory teaching. Of course, I want God’s perfect will. I also need to claim promises from God’s Word and pray them for my family and myself.

I haven’t been able to write for a while. My children arrived with all their precious smiles, hugs and kisses. They told me details of their morning and settled in to color and talk. It wasn’t long before a lady from anesthesia and the IV team came in. She looked me over to see if it was possible to put the PICC line in while still in the room. Apparently they usually go down to x-ray do this. The kids eyes got big as they listened; especially the older ones. They made faces when she said she would be back in about 15 to 20 minutes. Now my task is to try to think calmly, trust in the Lord and reassure my children about it, It sounded awful. I would be okay. In my mind I was repeating, “Trust in the Lord.” “Trust in the Lord,” over and over until it was time for Frieda to return. The children began to gather their coloring and toys and hugging and kissing me goodbye. They promised to have one of our special prayer meetings when they got home. My friend Beth had arrived during this time and offered to stay with me.

Bleeding was slower and was pretty much that way until 7 p.m. Something seemed to trigger heavy bleeding that lasted about an hour. The roller coaster ride here is difficult. I feel encouraged and hopeful when there is little bleeding and then I have a really difficult battle to think right when I see all the blood. We go to both of these places each day; sometimes several times. I’ve made it to a point to whisper a prayer of praise to the Lord each time there is a break from the bleeding. I have also made it a habit to quote, “Trust in the Lord” and “Cast all your care upon Him for He careth for you” every time the bleeding gets bad again. I have found myself praying this prayer continually, “Thank you Lord for taking care of me this far and for creating this baby boy. I know you have a purpose for his life and I pray that I won’t interfere with your perfect will and purpose.”

I’m so encouraged by how my children are handling this trial. I know the Lord is doing the work in each of their hearts and causing their faith to increase as they pray for and trust Him with the life of their mommy and the baby they have been looking forward to having join them. They seem to be getting along well and functioning as well as they can at home. I am thankful for Mom’s help during this time and I’m thankful that they can function some without her help. They, of course are helped by her presence but they do not depend on it for their survival. Joey and Josh have accepted the responsibilities with open arms and willing hearts. They have decided. however: that they will never be mothers. (They told me this today) Back to Friday. After the PICC line was in place an x-ray machine was rolled into the room and my chest was x-rayed to check the position of the pic. I found out several hours later that it was fine. Beth stayed with me for a while and talked about other things which was a nice reprieve. When Beth left and the pic insertion was over, I felt exhausted. I was relieved to find that there was little bleeding that night. As I closed my eyes to rest, Mom came with chips and guacamole and I enjoyed a good snack. (It’s those little things that pick me up.) For the rest of the day I was unable to use my right arm and I was dozing in and out. I was anxious for Mason to get here and felt very alone. Apparently, he went from work home to for a little while and got here around 8.

Joey and Josh have gone to Greenville to spend an evening with friends. I’m grateful they had a chance to relax and spend time with friends.

The night was pretty uneventful except for chasing the baby for his heartbeat a couple of times and restless sleep. This morning I had another big bleed and now it’s 10. I don’t feel extremely strong this morning but I was able to sponge bathe and change gowns. I am now listening to Dr. and Mrs Panosian quote scripture with an orchestra background. I feel quite sleepy and will rest now.”

As I read through the notebook where I wrote these words I am carried back to that hospital bed, to the room and to all that I was experiencing during these days. I remember the desperation of needing to read Scripture over and over. I remember feeling helpless and like my faith was faltering and I was failing my family and so much more. As I read through these words I can almost feel the fear and the determination to overcome the fear with faith that could only be strengthened through Scripture.

The tears flow today as I share these with you, as I relive those days and as I remember the sheer desperation of depending solely on Creator God to sustain my life and the life of my family.

**In the last portion of the story I shared some of my personal journal entries written during the weeks that I was hospitalized awaiting the inevitable and trying to give my baby a fighting chance for life. In writing and sharing I’ve taken myself back to those weeks and it’s been an emotional journey for sure; but more importantly, it’s been a time of reflecting on the goodness of God during those times in our lives when we have no idea what He is doing.

While I can tell you bits and pieces of my own spiritual, emotional and physical processes, I am not able to speak for those close to me – and what was taking place for them. What I can share is my perspective. For example: having 8 children at home while I was lying in a hospital bed an hour away from them and being told daily that I was never going home: in my human mind was terrifying. While I was striving to fill my heart and mind with God’s Word daily and while I was praying constantly for every family member as well as for the baby I was carrying and for God to work a miracle in my body – well, I was also fighting the natural worry that any mother feels.

My eldest son was going into his senior year of high school and was being forced to take on responsibilities that are heavy even for a seasoned adult! He was bearing the responsibilities of 6 young children: ages 2 – 10, including their fears and concerns for their mother. My second son, just 18 months younger was his partner in these responsibilities, and between the two of them; they carried more than any teenager should ever have to face. Additionally, they were driving a 15-passenger van back and forth to the hospital an hour from home with all of their siblings to visit me almost daily. And yet; God gave them the love for one another, the strength, and the character to step up BIG. I would never have desired for them to go through all that they faced during this time and I look back and think of all sorts of ways that maybe things could have been done differently for their sakes – but we all know what they say about hindsight. Often, in emergency situations, we truly cannot see the whole picture and we do the best we can do.

The younger six children didn’t really have an understanding of the seriousness of the situation – they just woke up on a Sunday morning and Mom and Dad were not there and their brothers were in charge. They were brought to see me at the hospital and I cannot imagine what they must have felt and thought. As a homeschooling mom, I struggled with feelings of failure – but again at home; the older boys did all that they could to run the house – making sure the most important things were done. They would bring school books into the hospital and I would have a chance to oversee a little bit of work, puzzles, and coloring and hold back my tears as they would pack up and leave each day. The two-year-old would be placed beside me on the bed and as I would hug and kiss him, he never spoke – not one word while I was in the hospital. Often, they would play games sitting around the room, sing to me and we even celebrated one birthday while I was laying there in the hospital bed. These children were like a band of soldiers doing what was required of them while leaning on one another!

My mother and a dear friend, Karen were the most constant help to them during this time and I’ll forever be grateful for their presence and support for all of us. My husband continued to go to work each day and spent most nights in the hospital room with me: of course, knowing all that I knew about the doctor’s predictions for my life and the life of our family. He has never been one to speak of his feelings or emotions, so I can’t address that here. Several times a week a counselor or psychologist from the hospital would come in to talk with me: to make sure I really understood my decision. Others were assigned to come to see me and talk about the development of the baby – and remind me that the best we could hope for was a baby born to remain a vegetable for the remainder of his life – and that I was going to be gone; so I was choosing this for my husband and children.

Can I just mention here again that I was not choosing this for my husband and children. I couldn’t get away from several things. One: God is God. I am not! He knows the future, I do not! He knows what is best for every member of my family. I do not! He created this life which He could have prevented and He did not. If He is truly God; then He can bring this child into this world AND save my life. If He is not God enough for this situation; then why am I trusting Him with my eternity?

Because He is God; only He gets to choose who lives and who dies. What I was choosing was to place my faith completely in Him Whom I knew was able – if He chose to miraculously save both myself and my baby. Of course, this is what I was hoping and praying for but I had to trust Him and accept His decision. I simply could not choose to end the life of my child because I was afraid. And I was afraid.

Years later, while talking with my children about this time, I would learn more of what they faced and I’ve cried many tears over hearing their stories. Tears of feeling the pain of those that I love beyond measure. Tears because these are the very people that I would give my life for. The ones I’ve spent my life trying to protect, to do good for, to pour into and the very people that I will hurt others for hurting. My situation and circumstances put them through so much and it breaks my heart. I would hear of other adults in their lives who stepped in, took advantage of the time to chide them for things that I allowed that they didn’t agree with, or discouraged them in one way or another by pointing out what they considered weaknesses (things I considered strengths). You know, it’s incredible to think that anyone would see this time as a window to “influence” someone else’s children. Then there was the one who made lists of demands that they needed to fulfill daily. (I would find this list years later while cleaning out closets)

From my perch in the bed, I was desperate to know my kids were ok – only aware of them trying to survive and keep each other going: not expecting them to take on all adult roles in keeping the house clean and everyone in line. I would learn of adults who spoke harshly and rudely to them because of the stress they (the adults) were under instead of lovingly and kindly and compassionately wrapping all 8 of these children up in care and tenderness during the most traumatic period any child or teen can go through! I would be reminded of things that I would say when they came to visit – things that were spoken from my grief but came out as criticisms. For example: I was grieving that I wasn’t the one fixing my beautiful little girls’ hair each morning and when I would comment on it, it sounded to the child like I didn’t think her hair was pretty. I would comment on the clothing a little boy was wearing and it came out as a criticism that those carrying these burdens weren’t doing a good job. My heart was grieving that I wasn’t the one dressing them, I wasn’t the one fixing their hair, I wasn’t the one feeding them – but when I opened my mouth it came out as those who were, weren’t doing it well.

These bits and pieces are just little samples of what can happen when many people are walking through difficult situations and literally trying to survive one day at a time; each dealing with personal emotions and needs. These are incredibly difficult days and much pain is endured all around. But. And yes, there is a but. On the other side of all of the trauma and pain are lessons learned, character developed, maturity built, and bonds between individuals that cannot be broken. When God allows it, He will also use it. When we let Him.

It seems appropriate to get to this point in the story on this date. Today, September 13, 2024 marks 21 years since…

It was on Friday night the end of week 24 according to the hospital calendar and the day I hit week 23 according to my calendar. As I look through documents from the hospital, I have found that while calendars were marked week 25; all indications were that we had made it to week 24… Why does this matter? Because hospital policy stated that until a baby reached week 24 gestation, there would be no efforts to save him. There would be no transport to the NICU, etc.

Back to Friday night. I had just started eating my steak dinner when Mason walked around the bed to put the computer in front of me. The hospital had brought in a computer so I could record my thoughts, prayers and the doctor’s words each day. As soon as the computer was in front of me, Mason said something funny. I laughed and my uterus ruptured.

The very thing the doctors had said was going to happen – was happening. I had made it to the very week that I had prayed for – week 24: either beginning or ending (and the professionals were still debating whether I was at week 24 or beginning week 25) Regardless of whose calendar was correct – it meant that they would at least TRY to save my baby.

As Mason yelled, nurses and doctors started scrambling and I began praying. (At least I think I was praying while trying not to panic!) Had I given my baby enough time? I knew that I probably had not. What do I remember? I remember my nurses crying. We had become like family to one another. I remember my doctor showing up just before they wheeled me into the operating room. She was holding my hand and telling me that she would be with me every second.

The next day, I woke up in ICU and was desperately trying to get the vent out of my throat. I tried to motion to the doctor standing over me to get that thing out, but she smiled and said that I had to be able to breathe on my own first. I saw blood bags hanging on my bed and I would later learn the details. My baby had been whisked out, resuscitated, and taken to the NICU. The doctors then spent several hours trying to stabilize me. It was an intense and horrible surgery that began at 10:00 pm and ended sometime after 4 am.

From what I have been told it was memorable for everybody involved but God’s grace was sufficient. The most experienced doctor on staff just happened to be on call that night. My, doctor who was determined to see to it that I lived, had been called. She had returned to the hospital after a double shift and was holding my hand as they took me in. She had assured me that she would see to it that everything possible was done to keep me alive. This particular doctor told me afterwards and she began giving orders for things to be done while the doctors who were supposed to be in charge were busy trying to stop the bleeding. Several doctors told me that they did not save me: and that they couldn’t explain how I had survived.

One doctor who has practiced for many years visited the NICU several weeks later and approached me as I sat beside my baby’s “box”. He told me that I obviously knew Somebody besides doctors. My curiosity and the need to know facts beyond, “It was horrible,” “You shouldn’t be alive,” “We, the nurses were laying our bodies over you trying to stop the hemorrhaging,” caused me to return to the hospital and ask for the doctor’s notes and factual records. Here are a few things I learned:

A loss of 1500 mil is considered severe and life threatening. I lost over 8000 mil. The average adult has about 1.2 to 1.5 gallons (4.5 to 5.5 liters) of blood circulating inside their body, (8000 mil is 8 liters) While in surgery I received 8 units of red blood cells, 18 units of packed platelets, 12 units of fresh frozen plasma, 10 units of cryoprecipitate and 4 more units of packed red blood cells. This was all before entering ICU. The doctors had to dissect the bladder from the uterine segment (the placenta had grown through the uterine wall and attached itself to the bladder. Cutting away caused more hemorrhaging.

The intestines had to be dissected from the uterine segment (medical terminology for the placenta had grown through the uterine wall and attached to the intestines) Cutting away caused more hemorrhaging. Obviously, the uterus was removed (was ruptured) and one ovary could not be saved due to the amount of dissecting that had to be done. One was left in hopes of giving me some sort of normalcy hormonally, but a year later I would undergo another surgery due to a mass of scar tissue that was attached to the remaining ovary. Bladder Blade Bowel Packed Coagulopathy: A clotting defect in which bleeding does not stop in the usual time period. PIt greater than 150 Pressure was applied (nurses’ bodies) and clamping and double ties were done for several hours to control hemorrhaging.

In all reality, I bled to death. Repeatedly. Taken to ICU at 5:00 a.m. and Mason was allowed to visit for 15 minutes every 4 hours. My understanding is that he opted for no pictures (said I was unrecognizable and my face was the size of my pillow) and he didn’t allow the older children to see me for fear that it would frighten them. When I opened my eyes in the ICU, I was on a ventilator and had two drains coming out of my abdomen and of course my PIC line was still in place giving me blood. I didn’t have any idea what had taken place but would learn later. I saw a doctor (I didn’t recognize her) and Mason standing on either side of my bed. As the tears rolled down her face, she shook her head and said something to the effect of, “I cannot believe you just opened your eyes! You made it!”

Yes… but… My thoughts were on my baby! Did he make it? I obviously couldn’t speak with the tubes in my throat but tried to communicate with my eyes. Mason saw my questioning eyes and said, “She wants to know about the baby!” They then told me that he was in the NICU and had a 5% chance of survival. “They are doing everything they can do!”

When my doctor visited later she told me that they couldn’t explain his survival to this point either. She told me that the majority of the placenta was OUTSIDE the uterus and attached to the organs there. She said there were literally shreds of placenta that he had survived on. She said he had originally weighed in at 2lbs but that his weight very quickly went down to 1lb and 12oz. He was alive. Only God! She would also tell me that she now believed there MUST be a higher being – because she couldn’t medically or scientifically explain what she had just witnessed. We’re not done!

ICU and Beyond

What could be more terrifying or lonely than lying in a hospital bed for weeks hearing daily that neither you nor your baby are going to survive? Waking up in ICU on life support and being told that your baby is in the NICU with a 5% chance of survival. Now, I could skim over this part of the story and go straight to NICU life but I think it’s important in sharing to allow you to peek into the reality of the details.

What do I remember about being in ICU? Being alone in a glass-walled room, being watched continually by strangers and feeling helpless and secluded from everyone I loved. I had tubes and drains coming out of every part of me and I had very little knowledge of what had happened or what was happening outside of those glass walls! This is a story of living out my faith – but the truth is that often when we are required to LIVE our faith, we aren’t feeling very faith-filled! In fact, we can feel completely terrified, spiritually numb, emotionally spent, and physically frail. Well, isn’t this where true faith is really needed? When we have nothing – and our total dependence is on our unseen God? Yes, this is where this part of our story will focus on me: my complete and utter breakdown.

I don’t know that anyone other than me and the Lord know this part of my journey; but this morning, I’m walking through it once again so that I can share with you. Once the ventilator was removed, I was able to be moved to a room on the women’s floor of the hospital. I still had the drains coming out of my abdomen, the PIC line and the catheter. I remember being emotionally numb for a while – and looking back I think it was similar to the shock one feels when dealing with the sudden death of someone close. I had been through months of what you’ve already read about, the inevitable HAD HAPPENED, and contrary to all predictions: we were both alive. I’m not sure what I was supposed to feel; but for a while I didn’t even know WHAT I felt. Can you feel relief and shock and fear all at once? Possibly – I was taken by a wheelchair to see my baby and oh, the love mixed with terror that I experienced at that moment is indescribable.

I had never seen a living human being so small. I begged to hold him and the nurse carefully removed him from his “box” and with all of the tubing coming out of every part of him, she placed him in my arms. The tiny head looked the size of a golf ball, his skin was translucent, and he felt weightless. Neither of us was strong enough for that to last more than a couple of minutes and he was whisked back to his box and I to my room. They came in and told me that the doctor had ordered that I not be allowed to even try to breastfeed him – though it would have been best for him, they had determined that I was not strong enough to even attempt. Quite honestly, they didn’t expect him to survive to the point of being able to even receive my milk. This was a first for me – and in my emotional state; well, it didn’t sit well. I accepted it but not happily.

The pain I was in was more than I had ever experienced in my life and I remember begging for relief. It was on my first night in the room out of ICU that my breasts became engorged and my pain tolerance had just maxed out. I cried for help, I begged for something/anything, and was told by my nurse that there was nothing more they could do for me. It was at some point during that night that my husband reminded me that he had a trip planned for that week and he would be leaving the next day for Texas. I begged him not to leave me alone there but was told not to be selfish.

The next night, alone and in excruciating pain, wanting desperately to go to the NICU to see my baby, but having no one to take me there – I broke down. What did that look like? Uncontrollable sobs. Prayers that sounded much like a pity party. Questions and statements that only God could interpret. Indescribable pain.

By the time it was daylight again, I had pulled myself together on my little hospital bed and was able to quietly enjoy the visits of some of my children and a dear friend, Beth, who patiently got me and my tubes into a wheelchair and took me to look at my baby. Living our faith isn’t something done by heroes. It is something done by the very weak who deal with doubt, discouragement, loneliness, pain, fear, and even anger. It is something done by believers who in spite of all of those things and in the midst of all of those things remember to look UP to the One Who is able to handle our doubt, discouragement, loneliness, pain, fear and even anger!

Before being discharged from the hospital at the end of that week, my doctor told me that I would never be the same physically – that I would have many things to deal with in the years to come because of what my body had endured. I heard her and I think I believed her; but I didn’t really know what all of that would look like and I hoped I had a love that would walk with me through all of it. Had I known everything I know today, would I do it all over again? Yes. I absolutely would! But we’ll get into all of that in future writings!

NICU Life

 *The stress on relationships that comes from long term NICU stays is undeniable: The divorce rate in families with long term NICU babies is believed to be 97%. Tulane calls it 100%. 

*Parents of babies in the NICU may be at increased risk for mood disorders. In a 2015 study of 113 new mothers with babies in the NICU, she and her colleagues found that 42 percent of women had postpartum depressive symptoms, and 30 percent had symptoms of PTSD.

*The NICU is very much like a war zone, with the alarms, the noises, and death and sickness,  You don’t know who’s going to die and who will go home healthy. The constant trauma is seeing your own infant having traumatic medical procedures and life-threatening events, and also witnessing other infants going through similar experiences – some not surviving. 

*When living through the NICU experience we often are given serial bad news. The bad news just keeps coming. It’s different from a car accident or an assault where you get a single trauma. While devestating, the experience itself is a single event and once it is over you have to deal with it. With a preemie, every time you see your baby; there seems to be a new trauma to deal with.

 *The post-traumatic stress may take the form of nightmares or flashbacks. Sufferers may feel panic every time a beeper goes off in the intensive care unit, or they may avoid the trauma by not visiting the unit or by emotionally distancing themselves from their child. Over time, they may develop depression, anxiety, insomnia, numbness, anger and aggression. These symptoms, of course, can impair their abilities as parents.

I can only share my personal NICU story but I can tell you that even today, certain sounds and smells trigger a full gamut of emotions!  I struggled with an enormous amount of guilt (and sometimes still do) because I was weak, recovering from my own surgery (doctors said it would take at least 3 years) and I had already been away from my 8 other children at home for 7 weeks!  The hospital was an hour from our home and I truly sought each day to figure out where to be, for how long and how to keep my household running.  I had some amazing help from friends, my mom and my incredible teen sons who carried an enormous weight during this period!  I prayed daily that each of my children would know that they were individually loved, valued and that I longed to be with them.  It was a time when as a mom I had to choose not whom I loved the most but who needed me the most at the moment!  There were nights that I made it home to my bed and many more nights that I spent in the NICU praying for a miracle.  The roller coaster ride was real – intense and exhausting!  We all handle this kind of stress differently, and while I sat by my baby’s bed for hours, my husband would visit in the evenings and would spend much time in the corner, on the hospital computer looking up medications for one infection or another and asking that they be tried on our son.  We watched as 6 neighboring families in the NICU lost their babies and we grieved with them.  I discovered that when my Chris was failing that the sound of my voice seemed to help – the alarms were less frequent when I was allowed to hold and speak to him.  There were periods where his condition was too precarious for us to even touch him and in desperation I went home, sang on a cassette tape and returned to the NICU asking his nurses to be sure to run the cassette 24 hours a day inside his box. They did.  So, when I had to leave to shower, to eat, to sleep or for a shift change of nurses, the tape was turned on and he could hear my voice.  During our NICU stay we experienced, brain bleeds, numerous infections, surgeries, organ failure, kidney failure that no one expected to turn around.  We literally sat at the end of the bed and prayed for ONE DROP of urine to drop into the bag to tell us his kidneys were working.  We became friends with the respiratory therapists who were constantly running to the alarms and working to keep our boy breathing.  They often stayed by our side when we thought we were in our last hours with our baby, praying with us.   

As Thanksgiving neared and we anticipated an unusual holiday I ran home on Wednesday and shopped for Thanksgiving food.  It was late afternoon when I was called back to the NICU for an emergency meeting.  Chris’s retinas were detaching (due to the intense pressure of the oxygen) and they needed to perform emergency eye surgery on Thanksgiving morning.   To be honest, I don’t remember that Thanksgiving meal.  I remember well the surgery and afterward.  I do believe we made it home and ate with our children before returning to the hospital.  It was just a few days later when I came home late one night and found that our children had put up a Christmas tree and decorated it beautifully!  

*Why do we see so many babies alone in the NICU? Because the effects on the parents is more than they choose to bear.

*Why did I choose to spend the majority of my time for 14 weeks in the NICU and trust God for my older children who at that time needed me a tiny bit less? Because I knew that the very survival of my tiny baby depended on my presence, hearing my voice, feeling my touch when I was allowed to hold him. As painful as it was to be away from my other children so much during this period; I felt I had no choice. I soaked up every minute that we had together and sobbed my way to and from the hospital NICU. 

Have you ever heard of something called “survival mode?”  I know you have.  This is the mode that I functioned in for several months – and it is the mode I would function in for the following several years once we finally took our baby home:  weighing 4 lbs and complete with heart monitor and oxygen.  

One burning question that many have, that many have asked:  “How could you put your other children through this?”  My only response:  I didn’t choose to put my children through this.  I chose to trust Almighty God to walk my children through something that He allowed in our lives.  Would a hysterectomy (hence an abortion) have been better for my children?  It certainly would have shortened the emotional and physical hardships on them.  It certainly would have simplified life at the time.  It would have also robbed them of many life lessons, of the truth of Who God is and what it means to trust Him fully.   Life isn’t always pretty and we cannot always protect our children from hard things, but I can tell you that it is amazing to see how God takes those hard things and uses them to create great beauty when we allow Him to.  

HOME!

Carrying an oxygen tank around the house with me, learning how to change the Cpap on a regular basis, hooking up and listening to the heart monitor 24/7 on top of handling a barely 4 lb infant were all scary and new realities for me once home.  I still had pain from my surgery, my strength was minimal and seemed to be very slow in returning. For the sake of my other 8 children, I was trying to create some sort of normalcy at the house and yet, I had a very fragile child to care for.  Doctors didn’t want him in and out of the public arena so a nurse visited our home 3 times weekly for months.  She checked vitals, answered my questions and assured me that I could do this!  When things looked out of order she would call the doctor and arrange for me to bring Christian in through a back door to be seen.  I had learned in the NICU that Chris thrived when I spoke and sang to him and our nightly routine at home included a medley of these songs.  

“Got any rivers you think are uncrossable? Got any mountains you can’t tunnel through?  God specializes in things thought impossible.  He’ll do the things no one else can do!   “Creation shows the power of God; there’s glory all around and those who see, must stand in awe – for miracles abound. I believe in miracles, I’ve seen a soul set free.  Miraculous, the change in one redeemed through Calvary.  I’ve seen the lily push its way up through the stubborn sod.  I believe in miracles, for I believe in God!”  “Jesus, Jesus, Jesus.  There’s just something about that name.  Master Saviour Jesus, like the fragrance after the rain.  Jesus, Jesus, Jesus;  let all heaven and earth proclaim.  Kings and kingdoms will all pass away, but there’s something about that name.” 

There were many “outings” that couldn’t be avoided. Appointments included the various doctors for eyes: Chris had gone through retina surgery while still in the NICU and regular visits to the specialists was part of our routine. At some point he was declared legally blind and the process of working through this was just one of many obstacles.  Another unavoidable appointment was to the cardiologist.  This visit was made while toting the heart monitor and oxygen with a toddler and a couple of other small children hanging on. We continued on a heart monitor for another 5 months after coming home.  Then there were the visits to the   respiratory therapists:  learning to do breathing treatments at home was also a new skill acquired.  I can’t forget the endocrinologist:  Chris was treated for blood sugar problems for many months and I fought the doctors who recommended growth hormone shots early on.  They wanted me to begin doing this at home and I balked – not knowing what the long lasting effects would be.   

Among the extra events that my mind cirlces: Chris was taken by ambulance once when the eye drops for dilation caused his heart to stop beating.  He was hospitalized regularly for RSV.  (My records indicate that it was an average of once a month for the first 3 years of his life.) He suffered from a chronic lung condition that caused every little thing to become serious.  When Chris was 9 months old he went through one of the most difficult surgeries at Duke University Hospital where his entire skull was removed and rebuilt with titanium.  Today, he calls himself ‘Titanium Cranium.’  Pull his curls back and you will see the scar from ear to ear:  the front was replaced first, then they turned him over and replaced the back.  The problems were caused because of his need for such high powered oxygen for so  long. 

Though every doctor had predicted that Chris would be incapable of sitting up, walking, talking… even holding his own head up – he began to defy all odds. A physical therapist began coming to our home several times a week after his head surgery and we saw his strength increase – first he held his head up, then he sat up, then he began to pull himself across the floor (we won’t call it a crawl but he was moving!)

We noticed early on in his doctor’s visits (once he was aware)  that we could not have an appointment when anyone else was present.  His eye doctor began making his appointments at lunch time:  otherwise he would hide under the chairs, in the corners, under desks and have complete full blown melt downs if anyone came near him.  Oh, the stories this momma could tell. On one very exhausting day: yes; after he began walking, he escaped my grip and not only got into the doctor’s private office, he locked the door and found his way to safety underneath the doctor’s desk. After several visits and evaluations, we had a new challenge. Yes, he was diagnosed as severely autistic.    Some readers are now thinking, “See…” NO, I’m not even going to write what some think… but we will talk more about this autism journey in a different story!