Happy Birthday Brother!!
Wow, what a year.
Sort of an emotional day if you stop and think too hard on it… wow.
So many blessing to count and be thankful for, love you and wouldn’t want to be in the fox hole w/ anyone else but you!
LY
It is really hard to look back on August 19, 2013, but it is so important to remember where all of this started and how far we have, in fact, come.
July.
All of our troubles began last July. I was 21 weeks pregnant and we have just learned that we were having a second boy(!!). Up until this point, my pregnancy had been a healthy and easy one. However, I was admitted to the emergency room twice towards the end of that month as I was severely bleeding. Twice, I was sent home after being told something about an "angry cervix". My problems continued, and although I was going to the doctor frequently, I was told each time that I was fine, the baby was fine, and that I was overreacting. In hindsight, I should have went to a specialist, but at the time I was trusting in what the doctors were telling me.
Sunday, August 18th.
I had been experiencing contractions for the last 4 days, having last been to the doctor that Friday. I was told I was having braxton-hicks. (Though, after researching this, I learned that these do not happen at 24 weeks.) I woke up that morning to my water breaking. This happened with Quinn at 36 weeks, so I knew what it meant. I remember telling Philip, "This is really, really bad." My parents were down that weekend, so as I quickly gathered a couple things, Philip woke them up and told them what had happened. We, once again, went to Seward's emergency room knowing full well they wouldn't keep me there. This part was so scary. The two nurses who were taking care of me were very nervous and one told me, "You are too early...you are too early..." Her desperate words deepened my sense of dread. The called an ambulance for me, but it ended up taking quite awhile...we learned later that they were half-way to Seward before the St. E's NICU heard that they were picking up a mother who was in labor with a 24 weeker...they had them turn around, come back, and pick up some specialists so that they'd be prepared if I delivered en route to Lincoln. About five people from the ambulance burst into our room and immediately took over. It was then that I felt the teensiest bit of relief. Finally, people who seemed confident! They loaded me up and off I went. (Philip was unable to ride with me.) Upon arriving at St. E's, I received doses of medicine to speed up my baby's lung development should he be born early. I also learned that I wouldn't necessarily have to have my baby immediately. (This was news to me--I didn't know you didn't have to have the baby once the water broke.) So, our plan was for me to live in the hospital for (hopefully) the next several weeks. The were hoping that I'd make it to 30 weeks or so before we'd deliver. With this as our new plan, things calmed down a little. Hope was not lost.
Monday, August 19th.
Philip had went to work, but once he got there, he was told that he could leave and join me at the hospital. (I think he got there late morning?) My mom had stayed with me while my dad was back in Columbus with Quinn. Shelly had come to visit with lots of crossword puzzles, nail polish, and things to keep me busy. My sister had brought me lots of movies and books. I was all set to live in the hospital. Anyway, after Philip hung out with me for several hours, we decided that he was going to run home to shower and pack. (He was going to stay overnights at the hospital for a few days until things settled down.) In that time, the doctor monitoring me became increasingly concerned about our baby's heart rate. I guess it had dropped too low for quite awhile. The nurse came in and asked when my husband was going to be back, because the doctor wanted to talk to us now. We told her that he was home so maybe could we wait a little bit? The doctor came in (it was 5:00pm) and basically said it was go time. NO warning whatsoever for me. One minute I thought I was living in the hospital indefinately and the next minute, I was having my baby 4 months too early. Freaking out, I told my mom that I only wanted to talk about books. Pat Conroy it is. (I love the 'Prince of Tides'. And 'Beach Music'. FYI.)
Upon our arrival to the OR, I was told that I would be getting an emergency C-section, and although I would be receiving a pain killer, I could not get any meds that would affect the baby in any way--he needed to be as "vibrant" as possible to increase his chances of survival. I was assured that the process would move quickly, and that I might feel them cutting the baby out...BUT the second the baby was out, I would be given very strong pain killers. While I felt the cutting, the pulling/moving of organs, I didn't feel any pain. When the baby was out, he let out a cry (!), which was a good sign. The brought him around so I could see him, and then off they all went. I did not see him again for several hours.
Philip got to St. E's as quickly as he could, but missed the delivery. He arrived right as they were taking our baby away, so he also got a quick glance at our 1 pound, 9 ounce baby. The rest of that night was incredibly blurry to me as I had lots of pain killers running through my body...I'm also guessing that I was a little in shock. Our pastor came to see us that night, and performed a baptism for our tiny son. I didn't know it at the time, but Anders' was given a 50% shot at life. (I made a point to google NOTHING about the survival rates/long-term problems, etc. for MONTHS. I didn't want to know.)
And so began Anders' life.
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