8:14 PM
The exact moment we went from expecting in three months to not knowing what to expect.
That poster hit hard for me. With Beckett there was no exact moment like there was with Ellie. (I'll never forget that morning just over three years ago hearing the doctor utter those words "We've got some serious labor issues here.")
This time around had a very different progression. When Mandy went into the hospital (Harris Southwest hospital near our house) Wednesday night, I didn't even go with her. We decided it was best for her to go get checked out because she had been experiencing what she believed (correctly) were contractions. We had gone to the ER a few weeks before under similar circumstances and they sent us home with no serious concerns. I thought this time would be the same. I thought.
I was surprised and hour or so later to get a call from my sobbing wife telling me that they wanted to keep her overnight for observation. I stayed home from work to watch Ellie and a friend's son, which Mandy had planned to do. I wasn't sure when they would discharge her so I had another friend come watch the kids while I went to visit Mandy in the hospital. They couldn't measure her contractions with their equipment since her uterus was too small, so they weren't 100% sure they were contractions. They discussed a couple other possibilities and sent her home with a prescription for Procardia to suppress the contractions. They also gave her a steroid shot for the baby's lungs. Now you might think at this point I would have come to terms with having another micro-preemie. You'd definitely be wrong. They explained that it was a just in case measure that would help the baby's lungs regardless of his birth date. I filled the Procardia presciption, came home, and the crisis was over. Or so I thought.
About the time she was to take the first dose of Procardia she was ordered to return to the hospital. She had called the doctor a few hours after discharge since her symptoms progressed. Her contractions were spaced 2-5 minutes apart usually lasting just over 20 seconds. (We of course downloaded an Android app for that.) The doctor had told her that more regularly spaced contractions lasting 30-45 seconds would be more of a concern. He had predicted the future. She called back to tell him the contractions were 3 minutes apart lasting 30-40 seconds and more painful. He replied that she had earned another night in the hospital. In hindsight, he never specified which hospital.
When we went back to the hospital the doctors tried to slow down the contractions with magnesium sulfate. It didn't work. All day the contractions had only worsened, never more than 5 minutes apart. She was now dilated to 2 cm, up from .5 cm earlier in the day. We discussed that the NICU at the Harris Southwest hospital can't handle babies delivered before 28 weeks, but the one downtown does. Mandy was not even to 25 weeks. So the doctor informed us that "in terms of viability in this pregnancy, we just aren't there yet." They wouldn't even transfer us downtown. But he would go consult with the doctor downtown and let us know.
I understand that no NICU in the world is a replacement for a mother's womb. I understand that even taking a baby born at 28 weeks and nursing her into a healthy happy little girl is a miracle of both God and modern medicine. And I understand that you have to draw the line somewhere, some babies just can't be saved. But when it's your baby, none of that matters.
I said a quick prayer for viability and prepared my speech for the doctor's return. If he stood his ground I would argue that the ultrasounds had consistently measured early, but they resisted moving up the due date. Then I would argue that moving up the due date would get us to viability. Problem solved. Fortunately my speech was not necessary. The doctor returned and said that 25 weeks was the official mark of a viable pregnancy, and Mandy was going to reach the 25 week mark in about another hour. So they would go ahead and transfer us to Harris downtown. Now you might think at this point I would have realized that the baby was coming very very soon. You might be underestimating my stubbornness.
When I arrived downtown they had already given her an even higher magnesium sulfate dose. By this time she was dilated to 3 and the contractions were still 3-4 minutes apart, and were excruciating. The anesthesiologist offered her either an epidural or Stadol. We foolishly chose Stadol which only served to make her loopy and allow her to fall asleep during the short breaks between contractions. By this time I was exhausted and I wasn't the one doing all the work! She progressed to 5 cm and we finally conceded to an epidural. At this point I realized that we would have chosen it sooner except that Mandy and I were both determined that she was not going to have this baby that night. I asked the nurse how long an epidural would last and her response was coy: "Once they get the line in, it will last for the rest of the pregnancy." Now you might think that by this point I would have been forced to admit to myself that we would see our son before the night was through. Well ... I was starting to come around.
But then.
The nurse began talking about breaking her water. My mind quickly sped through confusion and denial. They started taking her bed apart in order to elevate the stirrups. My world had eroded. The doctor came in. My son was born. The NICU staff began stabilizing the baby. This left Mandy and I alone together in a busy, crowded room. I felt strange relief.
I had spent all night progressing through anxiety, worry and fear. My worst fear had been realized. But it had been faced. And suddenly it didn't seem quite so bad. Mandy and I shared our tears. We didn't want to walk the road ahead, we knew it was a long one. But at least it was a little bit familiar.
Please pray for us on our journey.
