A miracle in motion

We weren't going to have anymore babies. Eight was enough.

Remember when I went the random doctor I found in the phone book, and he scheduled me for a hysterectomy before he knew what was wrong with me? And then, remember, my OB/GYN told me to hold off on that so we could do some biopsies to rule out cancer? 

And do you also remember how on the DAY that my original hysterectomy was scheduled, I found out that I was pregnant with Clinton? #miraclesbegin

The day Clinton was scheduled to be born, we didn't hurry to the hospital. This was very familiar to both of us. It was early enough to still be dark, but not too early for Wendy's to be open. After a stop at the gas station, we headed to the hospital. It was a quiet drive with mild tension.

I've always felt like our family had been so blessed with healthy pregnancies, safe deliveries, and perfect babies, that it was our turn for disaster. Every time, every pregnancy, I spent 9 months embracing the possibility of birth defects, risky labor, losing my life in delivery, and bottoming out emotionally. This time was no different, but I rarely voiced my fears because, why? It had all turned out OK before, no sense upsetting the fruit basket this time.

We checked-in, got snuggled into our hotel- I mean hospital room, for what would be the last time. I loved this part. Knowing the pregnancy was nearly done and the epidural was on the way set my mind at ease. In the paper-work process, I fell in love with my nurse. This is not unusual for me, to have an intense connection with someone involved in the baby/mommy rescue team. Dana and I shared the same birthday, she knew my very favorite cousin personally, she had the same name as my wonderful mother-in-law, and she could hold her own with Dale. It was the perfect set-up, in typical "God's got this" fashion.

We had scheduled an induction because I was having tons of false labor, on the brink of being committed due to my erratic hormones, and to be honest, I didn't was to have the baby in the car. It was bound to happen if we waited much longer. Dana started the process, and assured me that an epidural would happen as soon as I started to progress in labor. People I love were all around me joking and laughing excitedly as the anticipation of new life came to forefront.

My labor was relatively normal until I stalled out at a six. Dana thought since I had been on my back for a while to keep my epidural meds even, maybe I needed to turn on my side. When I did, I went from 6-9 in about 20 minutes. Buddy whipped around and decided he was ready to make an appearance! We were thrilled!! He was born, they handed him to me, I smiled for a picture, and he was whisked away. No one was saying much except for the doctor, who made small talk while she finished things up. It didn't concern me, but Dale looked fretful. People were crying. I was euphoric in that post-partum haze. After an eternity of people whispering and working, they took our boy down the hall to the NICU. He was making scary noises with each breath. He was swollen and purple. We were terrified, but I trusted the Lord.
They told me he had a pneumothorax. No one knew why, but there was a hole in his lung and he was fighting for his life. We sat in a delivery room that would normally be full of laughter and picture snapping and baby passing, quietly crying and begging God to give our boy life.

The pediatrician just happened to be making rounds in the middle of the afternoon on a Friday. (She said she never did that.) She worked with my sweet angel for a while, but it wasn't long before she knew we needed to call in reinforcements. Much to my surprise, the Lord sent the head of the NeoNatal Unit from Children's Mercy with the transport team to see what he could do. God sees. He hears.

This angel of mercy drew off some of the air from Clinton's lung with a big needle, instead of putting in a chest tube. He patiently explained that what had happened was, when the hole in his lung opened, it filled that part of his lung with air and then sealed back up, causing stress on the rest of this lungs so that he couldn't get a full breath. This relieved the pressure, but he hadn't fully transitioned right after birth. They inserted a vent tube, and he was transported to Children's Mercy. Dale went with him. I stayed in bed. It was one of the saddest days of my life. 
Dale came for me the next day and took me to Children's Mercy to recover with him. People all over the country were praying for us. The number of people that contacted me on FB to offer their prayers and support was astounding! I couldn't believe it. I knew that GOD would use this little life for His glory, even from the beginning.

Today is the year anniversary of that day. God in His mercy, literally breathed life into my son. He brought him from the brink of death to an intense life. This kid is a fighter in ways I've never seen an infant fight. I'm so in love with him.

He is just one more reminder that "Many are the plans in a man's heart, but the it is the LORD's purpose that prevails" Prov. 19:21

Happy birthday, sweet boy.
lvb