Skin-To-Skin {Choosing Life: Chapter 8}

{Choosing Life: Chapter 7}

January 4-11, 2011

The next 24-48 hours were a blur. And one of the events that she attributes to that time frame may have actually occurred sometime the week before since all of the memories for a few days prior to and immediately after Austin's birth sort of run together. In her mind's eye they are like a highlight reel for an upcoming movie that fade in and out or snippets put together as a slideshow that crossfade into each other. She remembers weird specific details that have become embedded as part of the story in her mind while not necessarily having any bearing on the actual birth events and may or may not even be accurate. She blames this on the anticipation and accompanying adrenaline.

Fade in. She and her husband arrive at a foyer in the hospital and wait at a counter until the NICU doctor arrives. The doctor introduces herself and proceeds to lead them through a door where they worm their way through a maze of brightly lit small rooms, squeezing between office chairs and desktop computers, into a dimly lit room in the back. 

The doctor, dressed in a long full skirt, sits on a couch-like bench. They sit on vinyl upholstered chairs across from her. The doc had just come from lunch and occasionally tries to muffle a belch. She also keeps fluffing her skirt which over time fills the room with the acrid smell of gas. These are the details that punctuate the upcoming life and death discussion. 

They are there to discuss the birth plan, what their desires are in light of the baby's ultrasound with the assumption and anticipation of his imminent demise. She and her husband had already agreed before the meeting about what their plans for Austin would be. Basically, if he breathes on his own and does not need to be put on a vent, then they want the hospital to treat the birth as it would any other complicated birth. The NICU doctor seems to be on board with this plan and repeatedly affirms their decisions. They discuss that the baby might be in the NICU to receive whatever resources he needs above and beyond breathing on his own. They leave with assurance that this doctor is part of their team and will fight for what they want. Fade out. 

Fade in. She is in the delivery room with a crowd of people milling around the room waiting for the big event. Obviously she is the center of attention. Her nurse-midwife, who delivered her first two children years before, is there to hold her hand throughout the birth while an OB is scheduled to do the actual delivery due to the unusual circumstances: inducing a medically complex baby at 37 weeks who they think is measuring as a 40 weeker. 

However, her contractions begin to get closer together, and the OB is still tied up with another delivery. At some point, her nurse-midwife is sitting at the end of the bed telling her when to push. A nurse stands on her left to help hold her left knee up, and her husband stands on her right holding her right knee. Eventually the OB shows up to join the show, but he agrees to only stand close and supervise while allowing her nurse-midwife to finish the delivery. She's very happy about this. She loves her nurse-midwife. 

All those faces. Everyone encouraging and coaching. And she's gotten the epidural, so in between the painful contractions and pushes, she feels pretty good. She even feels like she can entertain. She laughs and smiles and makes jokes, probably just a coping mechanism to distract from the surreal circumstances. At one point, she feels and hears a loud POP. She jokingly turns to her husband and accuses, "You broke me!" Everyone laughs. Fade out. 

Austin was born on January 5, 2011 at 5:06 pm. He was 6 lbs. 14 oz. His length was 20 1/2", his chest was 12 1/2", and his head measured 15".

Fade in. She is holding him skin-to-skin. He is still alive and breathing on his own, albeit not deeply. His breathing causes a faint whistling sound. She subtlety examines his abnormalities: a couple of fingers stuck together, one crooked finger, short thumbs, a wide flat, crooked toe on one foot, and what appears to be an extra toe or growth on the big toe of the other foot. His chin appears small and his ears seem small and low. Maybe his head is large, but she can't tell. Otherwise, he looks like a baby that had just been born, trying to adjust to his new environment. 

Her big kids arrive and are invited close to see their new brother. Photos and videos are taken. She is overwhelmed, trying to make sense of the situation, excited her baby is still alive, scared her baby is still alive, wondering how much longer he would be with them, wondering how long they would be waiting before the inevitable. The baby squints one eye open. The nurses cheer and tell the big kids to look at his eyes opening! Fade out. 

 

Fade in. She is still in the birth room. The epidural is finally wearing off, and she can tell she needs to pee. She sits up and swings her legs over the side of the bed and tries to stand. Pain shoots up through her body and she begins to fall. She realizes she can't bear weight on her legs. It seems like they aren't connected. She grabs onto the bed. Two nurses come along side her and support her to the bathroom. It feels like she is dragging her legs, they aren't working. The nurses blame it on the epidural, that maybe it hasn't worn off all the way yet. Fade out. 

Fade in. She is in a brightly lit recovery room. A photographer who volunteers at the hospital to take pictures of newborns and families who's babies are not expected to live has arrived. Her parents are there too along with her boys and husband. The boys still have their school uniforms on. Because she can't get up to walk or even sit up very far in bed, they stage photos with everyone gathered around her. The baby is on her chest and all the boys lean in around her. Her mom reaches in and moves hair out of her face. When she sees the picture later, all you can see is her face. She notices she is the only one with a fake pasted on smile. The rest look worried and tired. 

Right after this photo is taken someone comes and says they are taking her to get X-rays. Most of the rest of the photos are taken while she is not there. They wheel her bed out of the room and down a few hallways and into the X-ray room. The technicians tell her they need to get her off the bed and onto the X-ray table. She offers to help by using her arms and upper body to hoist her body off the bed and onto the table. One technician grabs her left leg to lift it off the bed to go with her upper body, but doesn't think to grab her right leg too to keep them together. She yelps in pain as she is straddled between the X-ray table and the bed until they finally realize she can't lift or move either of her legs on her own without pain. Fade out. 

Fade in. It has been at least 8 hours or so since he'd been born. She and her husband briefly whisper between themselves whether or not anyone should be feeding Austin yet, and if so, why hasn't he been fed? She decides to attempt to breast feed and tries to get the baby to latch on just like she did with her other babies, but he didn't seem interested or able. Shouldn't someone be concerned? Shouldn't someone be talking to them about feeding him at some point? 

The photographer is still in the room and happens to also be a NICU nurse so her husband runs some of these questions by her. She seems concerned too and advises him to ask the next NICU nurse that comes in to check on Austin. When a nurse arrives, her husband asks if Austin is going to be fed. The nurse replies, "Oh, you want to feed him?!" She leaves for a while and then returns with a tiny orange tube which she threads into the baby's nose. She then proceeds to pour a tiny bit of formula into a large syringe at the end. She doesn't explain anything, but she says she will be back later to give more. Fade out. 

Fade in. Two doctors are standing at the foot of her bed, the OB and an orthopedist. Her husband is standing beside her bed. The OB is grinning in a goofy manner, almost giddy. He said he's never seen anything like this in his entire career. He said he did find a couple of records of it happening in some of his research.  

They are telling her their options. The X-ray shows that her pelvis is dislocated. Officially, it is called diastasis symphysis pubis which is the separation of normally joined pubic bones. In her case and the reason it is unusual, the ligaments had completely snapped apart (hence the POP she heard) instead of just loosening or stretching. The options she is given are to either have internal plates or an external fixator installed, both achieving the goal of holding her pelvic bones in place until the ligaments could regrow from nothing between the pubic bones. It would take 9-12 weeks. If she chooses the internal plates, she would have to return to have them removed during surgery in about a year. If she chooses the external fixator, she would return to have it removed in an outpatient procedure in about 9 weeks. She chooses the external fixator and surgery is scheduled within the next few hours to have it placed. Fade out. 

Fade in. It's dark. She isn't on the OB floor anymore, she is on the orthopedic floor. She shifts her body and tries to raise an arm. It hits a metal contraption that is apparently attached to her body. Hitting it sends vibrations throughout her whole system. She pushes the button in her right hand for morphine. Fade out.

The external fixator or what
she fondly referred to as her "erector set" 

Fade in. Still dark. Through squinted eyes she can see a bassinet with a sleeping baby to the right of her hospital bed. She wonders why he is there and not in the NICU. She doesn't care. She pushes the button for more morphine. Fade out. 

 

Fade in. She's awake and holding the baby, wheezing and whistling as he breathes. She has an oxygen cannula in her nose and wrapped up over her ears. She wonders if she should take it off herself and put it on him. Fade out.

Fade in. The baby is in the bassinet on the other side of the room. Her husband is sitting in a chair a little to her right. She is still woozy from pain killers and not that interested in the in and outs of newborn care at this moment. But she wonders why is he still alive? And why is he in the room with them with no NICU attendants? Fade out. 

Fade in. They have a nurse friend who also has experience with her own medically complex kids who has been showing up for moral support. Her husband confers with her to get her thoughts. She also seems concerned that Austin isn't in the NICU, and that he doesn't seem to be getting the care he needs especially since he now seems jaundiced and nobody has done anything about it. She encourages her husband to go over to the NICU, find the doctor and start demanding answers to questions. He leaves and tracks down the doctor and tells her that Austin seems jaundiced and asks why he isn't being treated with a bilirubin blanket and given more care like the other babies in the NICU. She points to a bilirubin blanket in the corner and tells one of the nurses she could put that on the baby "if he thats what he wants." Fade out.

Fade in. The room is flooded with natural light from the window to the left of her hospital bed. A meeting has been called and her husband, parents, and the NICU doctor are sitting at the end of her bed in a semi circle. She is just listening from her reclined position, still a little groggy from pain meds.

Even though in their meeting before Austin was born the doctor had said she would support whatever decisions they made, that if he is breathing on this own, she would give him the same kind of care she would give any other baby born with challenges, she repeatedly advises them now to take him home and quit feeding him. "Comfort care" is what she calls it. Fade out.

Fade in. Nothing seems to be making sense. Her husband starts to get really suspicious and peppers each NICU nurse that comes into the room with questions. Eventually one of the NICU nurses confides that the NICU doctor's personal soapbox is that she believes keeping babies like Austin alive puts a burden on society; the nurse hints that if we want him to have a chance to live, we need to get him out of this hospital.  

Their nurse friend stops by to visit, and he rehashes the meeting we had with the doctor. She suggests they request to take Austin to Seattle Children's for a second opinion, a hospital with staff that has regular experience with kids like Austin, and a hospital that treats her own medically complex children.  

Her husband tracks down the NICU doctor again, and tells her we want a second opinion; we want to give Austin a chance. He requests the doctor transfer Austin to Seattle Children's. The NICU doctor seems pissed that her advice is not being taken and storms out of the room.  

That afternoon with encouragement from their nurse friend, her husband makes phone calls to Seattle Children's NICU to find out what they need to do to get a second opinion there. They say the NICU doc needs to put in the request for the transfer. This seems like an impossible task since he'd already experienced her balking at the idea this first time it was mentioned, but he asks the NICU doctor to make the request anyway. Fade out.

Fade in. It's now been about 5 days since Austin was born. They are sitting in the hospital room chatting about what the next step needs to be when the NICU doctor surprisingly arrives with papers to sign and announces they are taking Austin to the NICU to prep him for transfer to Seattle Children's for the next morning. For some unknown reason the doctor has decided to comply and makes the arrangements against her will with no explanation. Perhaps Seattle Children's' doctors has helped convince her. Fade out.

She and her husband found out a few months later when a large bill for the life flight came in the mail, that since the NICU doctor refused to admit it was a "medically necessary" transfer, insurance was denying the claim. They had to spend the rest of the year appealing and collecting every document they could to prove why he needed the transfer. The NICU doctor continued to claim throughout that fight, that she could have provided the same amount and quality of care that Seattle Children's had so the transfer wasn't medically necessary. And while the Seattle Children's doctors adamantly disagreed that our local hospital could have provided the expertise Austin's challenges needed, it still begged the question if she believed she could, then why did she not?

Fade in. The ambulance crew has arrived and are ready to take Austin and her husband to the airport. However, it is reported to her that they are delayed because they find Austin still not ready for travel. His O2's are dropping too low as well as not meeting other basic criteria like standard blood work that they require. The NICU doctor has still not put him on oxygen or seen to his basic care. Fade out.

Her husband reminded her later that as part of Austin's prep for the transfer, they had taken him to the NICU to run all the tests, put him on a monitor and brought him back to my hospital room. However, the monitor constantly alarmed so my husband asked them about it. They took him back to the NICU for a couple of hours and returned him without a monitor. They had decided the monitor was malfunctioning and told her husband nothing was wrong so Austin didn't need a monitor.

Her husband also reported later that that the medics told him during the flight to Seattle that Austin was briefly stopping his breathing which caused him to d-sat for a up to a minute before recovering. They had to keep increasing his oxygen in his box on the plane to prevent the d-sats. They asked him what he knew about it, if Austin had been on oxygen at the hospital, and if this was typical. He told them no, Austin had not been on oxygen, and he had no idea if it was typical. He told them about the monitor being "broken" when they tried to monitor his oxygen at the hospital. The EMT's couldn't believe that Austin had not been on oxygen at all the entire time since he'd been born, how a doctor wouldn't see to that basic need.

Austin finally getting oxygen
and basic medical care at
Seattle Children's Hospital

Because of that NICU doctor's attitude, she has felt especially responsible for having decided to give Austin a chance at life even though her husband was there making decisions with her. Because of this doctor, she has felt determined that Austin not be a burden on anyone, hence her reluctance to ask for help even from family members or friends. She was even reluctant at first to seek financial support through the government programs he was “entitled” to or to appeal reimbursement for things the insurance company had denied. For her, it was not anyone else’s “burden” to bear. It was a decision she made between herself, (her husband, of course) and God.

The End

-------

I began writing the story of Austin's birth on December 25, 2013. After Austin was born, I was sitting with friends in a coffee shop, friends that had been there through each event as it occurred, who suggested I write his story. They said they would for sure read it and were sure others would want to also. They may have been joking, but I took it to heart even though it took me two years to get to the point where I could sit down and begin recording his story. However, I'm pretty sure they've kept their promise and read every chapter.

Austin's arrival shook my belief system and everything I thought I knew about faith and God to the core. I'll be honest, I had the blind faith. Once I got through the initial shock, I was gung-ho that this was going to be THE miracle story. Glory to God! With every doctor's appointment, I half expected they would come out and say, "Well, we don't know what happened, but his brain has totally been restored. We can't find anything wrong. It's a miracle!"

I even believed this into the first couple years of his life, that there was a miraculous restoration just waiting around the corner for him, for me. If only I believed hard enough, if I said the right words in prayer, if I yearned for it with enough intensity, if I had the mustard seed sized faith, if I announced publicly everyday that "God's got this!", if my husband and kids did the same. God had always had my back, right? I mean, I'd never had to experience anything hard so in my mind that meant he had my back. I was blessed. And if he was going to give me something hard, then it must be for God's glory, and he would be faithful to give me a miracle. I just had to trust.

But there were no magic words or formula. Nothing dramatic changed. Yes, there were things that weren't as bad as we thought, but there were also things that were worse. So what can I claim is a miracle and what isn't? It seems to me its all luck of the draw. God isn't causing bad things so he can perform miracles. Bad things just happen. It is what it is.

It's taken me four years to finish writing all the events of Austin's birth story. I originally thought I'd sit down and write it like a book, submit it as a short story to a publisher (which I know absolutely nothing about since I'm not a real writer). But instead I found I needed to go very slowly. That I could only dribble out a little at a time.

I also found that I'm impatient. I want instant feedback, hence the blog format worked quite well. I could write a "chapter", get a little encouragement before I geared up for the next one. So in a way, my "short story" is now in outline or rough draft form sprinkled amongst other blog posts that reflect the changing state of the rest of my life over the last four years. I wonder how disjointed it sounds if someone other than myself were to read it from Chapter 1.

I'm not the same person I was when I got pregnant with Austin. I'm not the same person I was when I gave birth to him, and I'm not the same person I was when I started writing his story 4 years ago. But over the entire 7 years, I've survived grief, anger, and depression on my path to overcoming my disappointment, both the initial disappointment and the later disappointment when I didn't get that miracle I expected.

So guess what I learned? Overcoming is the miracle. Learning how to accept and surrender is the miracle. Surviving the grief is the miracle. I love this quote from a book I read this past year:

"And whether you believe in miracles or not, I can guarantee that you will experience one. It may not be the miracle you’ve prayed for. God probably won’t undo what’s been done. The miracle is this: that you will rise in the morning and be able to see again the startling beauty of the day." William Kent Krueger, Ordinary Grace

Pelvic Floor, Duct Tape, and a Voice from Beyond {Choosing Life: Chapter 7}

{Choosing Life: Chapter 6}

September 10, 2010 - January 3, 2011

The next four months went by in a blur, and the rest of the pregnancy was, well, a pregnancy. Between the bouts of crying in the closet or at church and putting on a brave face laced with dark humor (sarcasm) in between, it wasn't much different than her other pregnancies except for the looming new expectation. Only three things happened that specifically stood out in her mind.

One of the things included the baby stretching or extending out in a way that would cause extreme pain. Instead of that lovely feeling when a baby rolls or stretches and a little foot or elbow draws an arc across her stomach or pushes out and a little lump appears for a second, it would instead feel like a foot being jammed down into the floor of her pelvis for several seconds at a time. She wonders now if that could have been some kind of seizure.

Facebook status, Sept. 11th, 2010: “Every morning I wake up and wait to see if I feel movement from our baby as every expectant mother probably does. With his death sentence already pronounced, I praise God that Austin is alive and kicking one more day :) I sure love this little guy, but then i have always been a sucker for the underdog.”

Facebook status, Sept. 28th, 2010:  “23 weeks tomorrow! Austin's still movin' and a groovin' :)”

Facebook status, Oct 13th, 2010: “25 weeks :)”

Facebook status, Oct 16th, 2010: “thank you to everyone still praying for us...had a bit of a reality melt down last night consisting of thoughts of "I can't do this..."...much better today though. especially when I don't really know what it is that "I can't do" yet. :)”

Facebook status, Nov 3rd, 2010: “28 weeks.”

Facebook status, Nov. 14th, 2010: “My back hurts! (you have to say this like Jim Gaffigan so it sounds like a joke and not like I'm complaining, although…)”

The other unusual thing she experienced was the most painful stretching of the skin across her stomach. She attempted to relieve the pain by using duct tape over a wash cloth to try to "pull" her skin back together thus reducing the burning and tearing sensations.

Facebook status, Nov. 25th, 2010: “can the skin on your stomach just completely split open? I don't thnk my stretch marks can stretch any further.”

Facebook status, Dec. 8th, 2010: “33 weeks. Jonathan was laying his head on my stomach last night talking to Austin...got kicked in the head three different times...the look on his face was so funny.”

Facebook status, Dec. 26th, 2010: “Lamentations 3:19-24”

Facebook status, Dec. 29th, 2010: “Went for ultrasound Monday and 36 week appt. today. I'm measuring at 40 weeks and Austin's weight is estimated to be 7.5 to 8 lbs. But nothing is going on down there. So I'm at full term uncomfortableness, waiting for something to start so they can induce. :)”

Looking back she wonders if the painful stretched skin which left wide shiny, silver stretch marks, the fact that she measured 40 weeks at 36 weeks, and the unbelievable amount of amniotic fluid that came out when they broke her water when being induced, meant she had polyhydramnios which apparently can accompany fetuses that have an impaired swallowing reflex.

Lastly, the day before going in to see about getting induced, she was sitting in her room on the edge of her bed. She was alone, feeling scared, crying, and for some reason, she was thinking about her grandmother on her dad's side. She and her grandmother had gotten close for a time before her grandmother passed away. Anyway, she wasn't just thinking about her, she was talking to her in her mind. She was considering how hard life must have been back in her grandmother's day and thinking how strong she must have been, so she was asking her grandmother how she was going to have the strength to get through this birth and the subsequent expected death.

A few seconds later, her husband nudged her and handed her the phone. She took the phone in a teary daze and said hello. Her grandmother's voice answered back!

At least it sounded like her. It took her a moment to realize is was actually her aunt, whom she rarely heard from, but who had a similar sweet, southern accent that at this moment when she was thinking about her grandmother and wishing to consult her, was her grandmother's voice. Her aunt asked how she was doing and proceeded to speak encouraging words to her.

How did her aunt know to call right then?

Facebook status, Jan 3rd, 2010: “Thanks for everyone's notes in my messages, comments and on my wall. It means alot that ya'll are still praying for us. We might be getting close...going in tomorrow to see if we can induce before my stomach splits apart and i explode.”

{Choosing Life: Chapter 8}

Faith of a Child {Choosing Life: Chapter 6}

{Choosing Life: Chapter 5}

September 9, 2010

The following night she found herself curled up on the couch, crying into her husbands arms, second guessing all of her heroic thoughts from the night before. Fear of the unknown dominated her mind.

She remembers details like the overhead ceiling fan light being on and seeming too bright, the sage green of the carpet, the floral pattern on the couch cushions. She also remembers her oldest son descending down the stairs. With each step he was telling her that he had prayed and it was going to be alright. He was convinced it would be. And that the baby would live.

In the simplest way they could, they had told their kids about their unborn baby's deformities and brain malformation, preparing them for the worst possible outcome. So at the time, these words coming from her now eleven year old washed over her with assurance and comfort. She so wanted those words to be true. She wanted her son to experience positive results of a childlike faith even though she secretly feared her he would be let down and challenged in his faith at what she considered too young an age.

But she let him keep speaking, keep assuring, keep being positive. What else could she do, but grasp onto those words coming unprompted from a child and hope they were truly inspired by God? Even if they weren't, she thought often throughout the rest of the pregnancy about his willingness to lay it all on the line and declare his faith as a result of having no previous experience of doubt or disappointment to cause him to do otherwise. Oh to think and trust like a child again.

So whether they were inspired or not, she took those words from this child and held on tight. Whenever she doubted, she thought of him coming down those stairs full of intentions to comfort and care for her. She's not sure he ever knew or even knows now how much he confirmed her decision to continue the pregnancy, come what may.

Facebook status, Sept. 9th, 2010: “We are overwhelmed by the wisdom and faith God has given our kids right now. The things they are saying about their little brother and our circumstances can only come from one Spirit. We can certainly feel the prayers of the People right now. Thank you.”

Facebook status, Sept. 9th, 2010: “We let the kids pick their little brother's name today: His name is Austin Chase HagEstad! Michael chose Austin "b/c that's a cool name and cool people have the name Austin." Jonathan chose Chase after Chase Reynolds who plays for the Griz "b/c mom, when he is a big man, and if he plays NFL football he will need a football name!’ “.

Speaking of childlike faith, that second son soon to turn 9, brought a brief moment of innocent levity by wanting to give his baby brother a "football name" as if there was no doubt there could be a chance. She was later told about one of his prayer requests during classroom devotions at school, that his friends should pray for his little brother because his leg was on backwards! She was told he figured he could at least be some kind of cool kicker.

Austin's short leg and club foot ("leg on backwards")

{Choosing Life: Chapter 7}

Severe and Profound {Choosing Life: Chapter 5}

{Choosing Life: Chapter 4}

September 7, 2010

She and her husband arrived at the women’s clinic together for the highly anticipated 20 week ultrasound. Although she had an ultrasound around 10 weeks or so and saw the peanut that confirmed the pregnancy, this was the ultrasound where they really get to see the baby with all its little bits and parts. But since they did not find out the sex with their first two boys, they were not planning to find out this time either. For them, it's like peeking into a Christmas present before Christmas. It takes some of the fun out of delivery day.

They were ushered into the dimly lit room where the clinic performed the ultrasounds. She had been there before with her other two babies and nothing had really changed. The technician fired up the machine, put the gel on her stomach, warning her it might be a little cool, and proceeded to move the wand over her belly. The only difference this time was that they had a television screen up over her head instead of having to crane her neck to look at the monitor.

And there appeared the baby! Moving around doing its baby thing! The tech began to take a few measurements of its arms and legs. She pushed a button every now and then so that an image of what she was looking at would be printed for them to take home.

She began looking and measuring the head when all of a sudden she seemed to be in a hurry, pushed the print button a couple times, and then left the room. When she came back, they were told they were going to be sent to a specialized ultrasound doctor with a better machine in order to get more precise measurements.

In her naivety, she can honestly say she had no idea something might be wrong. Her husband, looking at the image printouts that the tech gave them, brought one to her and said, “Look at the baby’s hand.” She looked and said, “Oh, it has a funky hand.” (It kind of looked like a claw). So they figured the ultrasound doc would be looking in more detail at the hand.

They set an appointment for the next day.

__________

September 8, 2010

She remembers going to the appointment kind of excited that they would see the baby in even more detail. They had nervously made jokes.

The gal that did the actual ultrasound was very kind. She took all the measurements like the other ultrasound tech would have done at the women’s clinic, only this time, she completed the job. Afterward, the doctor came in to have a look for himself. She remembers he was much more aggressive than the tech was when looking at at the baby, meaning, he applied a lot more pressure to her abdomen to the point that it was quite uncomfortable and it hurt. But she endured it, and they were then asked to come into his office to discuss the findings.

She was so clueless. Apparently this ultrasound doc was actually a doc for women who were having babies with problems. So after being told all the possible things wrong and the worst case possibilities that could result, they decided to break their rule and go ahead and find out the sex in case the baby didn't live to be born.

Facebook status, Sept. 8th, 2010: “Please pray for our unborn (20 weeks) baby BOY. He got a really crappy prognosis from the results of a detailed ultrasound this afternoon. The doc used the words "severe" and "profound neurological defects", as well as, he believes the limbs, especially one leg is deformed. :( “

----------

She now definitely knew what a mom feels like when faced with the absolute (not maybe) knowledge that her unborn baby will face challenges to live. It was a sickening shock, and she was actually surprised at how many (she had assumed) pro-life/Christian friends and family said they would support whatever decision she made, although she is certain now it was all said in love, fear of the unknown, and wanting to be supportive in that moment of grief. And she certainly had to consider it herself. Was she going to live out her faith and convictions and trust her God, or take the easy way out? 

That night after the fateful ultrasound, she spent hours alone on the couch, crying out to Jesus, and begging God to just take him so she would not have to make such a decision. And then she realized that she didn't have to make that decision, that God had her baby's life in His hands. So she began to just ask Jesus to cuddle and hold him (and her) no matter what the outcome. She began to feel the peace that cannot be understood.

{Choosing Life: Chapter 6}

A Summer Respite {Choosing Life: Chapter 4}

{Choosing Life: Chapter 3}

July 7 - September 6, 2010

Facebook status, July 12, 2010: “tent-check, sleeping bags-check, tub-o-camping stuff-check, bag of sunscreen, insect repellant, bear spray and first aid kit-check, fear of having to pee in the middle of the night in bear country-check…”

Facebook status, July 19: “dang. my loosest pair of shorts are starting to feel tight. at least my tennis skorts stretch and my skirts can ride high on my waist. i have one pair of jeans I can still wear...putting off buying maternity clothes!”

Facebook status, July 30: “I was giving directions to Patrick and Michael on moving the furniture around in the basement, and Patrick leans over to Michael and whispers 'Nesting...,' all-knowingly.”

Facebook status, August 10: “Happy 19th!!! 19 years of marriage and still barefoot and pregnant! You are amazing…” (posted by Patrick)

Facebook status, August 18: “Wearing my first pair of maternity cropped jeans in 8 years today.”

Facebook status, August 24: “on a pregant emotional rollercoaster today...Weeeeee!”

Facebook status, September 4: "Already had get up to pee and it s only 3 minutes into the game."

That summer she spent her third pregnancy doing all the things she would normally do with her family with the added bonus of anticipating a new member.

They tent camped twice, once to Yellowstone National Park and once locally to Salmon Lake. They hiked and played a little tennis. She did some gardening amongst snakes and yellow jackets and got her fried okra "fix" at Cracker Barrel. By September, they'd even attended the first Grizzly home game for the season, one of the few with perfect football weather, aqua skies, a few clouds, and crisp air.

Although occasionally emotional from hormones, life that summer appeared all rainbows and butterflies. Sunsets glowed sunset-ier, roses smelled rosier, and blue skies reflected, of course, blue-ier.

{Choosing Life: Chapter 5}

The Woman and the Tissue Box {Choosing Life: Chapter 3}

{Choosing Life: Chapter 2}

July 6, 2010

Facebook status, July 6th, 2010: “George Patrick lassos stork!"

Excitedly she pulled the glass door open to the women's clinic, breaking the seal between the hallway and waiting room creating a cool whoosh of air in her face from the air conditioning inside. She had brought her husband and two little boys, ages 8 and 11 for her first prenatal care appointment of her third pregnancy, the one where she fills out all the paperwork and agrees to a payment plan, the one where she pees in a cup and gets blood work done to officially confirm the pregnancy, and the one where they would get to hear the heartbeat for the first time!

When the nurse called her name, she followed her down the hallway to the exam room, alone at first. Her husband stayed with the boys in the waiting room. She planned to have them all come back once they got to the fun heartbeat part. No need to freak the little boys out with the peeing and exam part!

The nurse asked a few questions and took her blood pressure and then left her to undress and put on a gown. Once she had the breezy little gown on, she hopped up on the exam table and waited. Her nurse-midwife, the same gal that had delivered both of the other children, knocked quietly to see if she was ready and came in. They went through the routine of discussing her health and pregnancy history, she answered lots of questions and got an exam. Based on her answers to some of the questions, it was guessed that she was 10-11 weeks along. The nurse midwife asked if she wanted to go ahead and hear the heartbeat before they called the boys back to the room, and she said, "yes!"

As the nurse-midwife positioned and repositioned the fetal Doppler around her abdomen but couldn't seem to locate the baby's heartbeat, she began to feel more and more apprehensive. But her nurse-midwife brushed off any concerns and said after she came back from getting her blood work done, she would send her to get a fetal ultrasound.

She got dressed and walked in a daze back to the waiting room where her eyes met her husband's surprised look since he had expected to be called back with the kids to hear the heartbeat. She briefly filled him in on the plan and left them quickly to go to the Laboratory Department for the blood work.

She felt the panic and emotions welling up inside her. She sat down in a row of chairs off to the side out of the way, hoping to get control of herself. But she couldn't stop the flow of tears. She worried about all the things that could have gone wrong, and thought how funny that she could be so attached and so emotional over a 10-11 week old barely developed baby the size of a kidney bean.

As she sat alone in the waiting room of the lab, another woman across from her noticed her distress and without any words, quietly got up and brought her a box of tissues and then went to sit back down. She could barely see the woman through her tears and would not recognize her today if she tried, but she gave her a quiet thank you and an attempt at a smile. The fact that it felt like someone cared helped her finally get control of herself and continue through the motions of getting the blood work done and going back to the clinic where her family waited. She has never forgotten that tiny gesture of kindness.

Eventually she and her husband were ushered into another exam room. They left the boys just outside the room sitting in chairs in the hallway with threats to behave. After getting undressed again, she and her husband held their breath as the ultrasound technician lubed up the wand preparing for the up close and personal peek inside.

Immediately, the image of the baby popped up on the screen along with the unmistaken sound and picture of a beating heart. The baby was alive! He or she must have just been hiding. They both smiled and exhaled sighs and words of relief. Nothing seemed to have come from all her apprehension. The ultrasound technician pushed a button and printed out a tiny picture of a little monkey looking bean. She got dressed again, and she and her husband proudly went out to the hallway to show the boys.

{Choosing Life: Chapter 4}

Her First Two Pregnancies {Choosing Life: Chapter 2}

{Choosing Life: Chapter 1}

She already had two amazing and beautiful boys, ages 10 and 8. Both boy’s genders were surprises since she and her husband chose to wait until they were born to find out their sex. And each one, of course, had their own unique birth story.

After an uneventful pregnancy, the only glitch having been diagnosed with gestational diabetes (probably resulting from eating a large bag of Starbursts on the way to the clinic for the test), her firstborn, Michael, decided astonishingly to be born on his due date.

She and her husband had settled in for an evening of movie watching. Having had random contractions all week and being that it was the night before the baby’s due date, she had chosen to lay on the couch with a towel underneath her, just in case.

Her husband pushed play on the DVD player, and they were both thrown into the midst of Saving Private Ryan’s depiction of D-Day. And although the gun shots were loud and intense in the middle of the beach storming scene, they both heard an audible pop that seemed to come from behind them or across the room. She raised herself up on her elbows to see what the sound was and realized her water had broken!

As she sat on the toilet, trying to talk to her nurse midwife on the phone, she was told to come in when she couldn’t talk through the pain. They left almost immediately especially since they also lived 45 miles away from the hospital. She sat on towels as her husband sped down the highway, breathing through the pain with every bump in the road and every contraction. She had planned ahead to have an unmedicated birth only because her friend had done it, and she wanted to see if she could do it too. She can be competitive.

They were ushered into the largest birth room, and she proceeded with various activities to help distract and alleviate pain. She went to the bathroom, they did laps in the hallway, she took a warm shower, she rocked in the rocking chair. These kept her busy until the pain became overwhelming. Soon, as she was moaning to herself, hunched over in the rocking chair, she overheard her midwife tell the nurse-in-training that she was in transition.

Transition hurt. And it was surreal. Eventually, the midwife had her climb onto the table so they could check the baby’s progress. Thankfully it was time. Since she chose a natural birth, she had no IV’s, only a monitor around her belly to listen to the baby’s heart.

The room was full of attendants waiting on the arrival of this new little human. She remembers noticing all the random day to day discussions going on around her between agonizing pushes as if they were all sitting in her living room, just hanging out. She kept pushing as instructed, getting tired, but the baby still wouldn’t come out, its head stuck crowning for 25 minutes.

While some of the nurses and attendants seemed to become a little anxious, her nurse midwife assured her everything was okay because the baby’s heart rate was still normal. But not wanting to risk the child being stuck any longer, the midwife finally gave her what was supposed to be a tiny episiotomy. Ouch! Not realizing she didn’t need to push as hard anymore, the last push resulted in a nice 3rd degree tear and an 8 pound 5 ounce, black haired, red faced quiet baby boy. She was amazed it only took 4 hours from the time they first arrived to the hospital.

Having experienced a natural childbirth for all it’s worth, she gave in to her curiosity to see what a medicated childbirth was like with her 2nd child, Jonathan. However, this pregnancy felt very different, and while she doesn’t remember having any diagnoses of something like gestational diabetes again, she often referred to the baby as the anti-Michael. This child just seemed ready to break out, moving more and kicking harder. The baby’s hormones collided with her own causing her to feel depressed and anxious, miserable. She was given an anti-depressant during the last month, but when the due date arrived and the baby didn’t seem to care, she cried on her nurse midwife’s shoulder believing she couldn’t survive one more day.

Having compassion, the midwife met her at the hospital and broke her water. Being induced caused the pain to come on much more quickly and intensely than she remembered when it happened naturally. She couldn’t wait to get an epidural and spent the whole pain free time sleeping. When she woke up, the epidural had almost worn off, and it was time to push.

Again, she had to receive an episiotomy since the scar tissue from the last one wouldn’t let the baby through. And again, she had a lovely 3rd degree tear. But in spite of all this, she got to experience a most amazing national geographic moment. After they put the screaming red faced, blond headed, 7 pound 9 ounce baby boy on her chest, he wiggled and rooted around to nurse almost immediately. With this baby, both she and her husband felt their family was complete.

{Choosing Life: Chapter 3}

Another Baby {Choosing Life: Chapter 1}

{Choosing Life: Preface Part 2}

November 2009

She didn't know for sure why after eight years she thought she wanted another baby, but the thought had crossed her mind numerous times over the past year. There were many things different now than when they had kids before. She wasn’t working. And she was getting bored. She knew her husband would be for it.  And her two boys were always saying they would love more siblings. So why not?

At 39, she went for her yearly “check up”, and her nurse midwife said something like, "If you are thinking about it, do it now before you are 40.  The odds of something going wrong go up so much after 40."

“Oh my gosh, I’m running out of time!" Plus, she thought, she could do so many things differently this time.

For one thing, they might have a girl! And she wouldn’t be working, so she could spend all that extra time taking her baby on walks, reading to her, teaching her all those extra things her other kids didn’t know before kindergarten. It would almost be like having an only child. They could be joined at the hip. She would do all the things she either didn’t do right or allow herself do with the other kids. She would feed on demand. She would nurse until the baby girl bit her. She would hold her as long as she wanted to. She would rock her until she fell asleep. She would get one of those wraps that holds the baby next to the mother all day long....

{Choosing Life: Chapter 2}

A Year and a Half Later {Choosing Life: Preface Part 2}

{Choosing Life: Preface Part 1}

So I guess you are wondering about the rest of the story?  I shut down the blog for a while now and have decided to revive it for therapeutic reasons.  Perhaps it will help. Or perhaps I will decide to go into hiding again.

If you read the previous post, you know that I was pregnant with a baby that was doomed by the doctors to die.

Well...that baby wanted to live. And what a story he will have to tell someday.  But for now, he goes on living (I would say "surviving", but that almost seems too desperate.  Some days it feels like all he is doing is surviving, but mostly he is living). He's beautiful. He smiles and laughs and interacts as best he can. And he is progressing.  Primarily, he has the brain malformations listed in the previous post.  There are lots of names for the multiple things "wrong", and some of the "fixes" include a shunt for hydrocephalus, g-tube for swallowing and feeding issues, orthotics and a wheel chair and stander and therapists for his physical delays.  But he is alive. And he smiles. And he seems to know who his people are.

But as for me, sometimes I feel like all I'm doing is surviving.  I know that's not true most of the time. But the times when things get tough, it sure feels like it's overwhelmingly true.

When I envisioned my life, I always saw into the future as being mellow, no risks, and easy...basically a boring and uneventful life.  I suppose no one envisions challenges, heartache, and trouble for their future.

So even though things get hard now and again, I wonder if the good really does outweigh the bad.  If memory loss will weed out the moments of crisis.  And I wonder if one day I'll be able to look back and think, "Well, at least I didn't have an uneventful or boring life." And, "My life was rich with experiences."

{Choosing Life: Chapter 1}

An Unexpected Turn of Events {Choosing Life: Preface Part 1}

After finding out about Austin's condition on September 8, 2010, I shared the sad news and prayer request with my women's Bible study group. They cried and prayed with me, and I was subsequently asked to share my story of receiving bad news and my response at an upcoming church women's retreat as well as at another church for a women's meeting. The following blog post is what I wrote sitting by the lake at the women's retreat, and what I read (or cried through) at both events.

----------

October 10, 2010

An excerpt from a song called "Give Me Words to Speak" by Aaron Shust primarily sums up what I felt after a phone call from my nurse-midwife on September 7, 2010:

Calloused and bruised
dazed and confused
My Spirit is left wanting something more
Than my selfish hopes
and my selfish dreams
I'm lying with my face down to the floor
I'm crying out for more (crying out for more)

Chorus:
Give me Words to speak
Don't let my Spirit sleep
Cause I can't think of anything worth saying
But I know that I owe You my life
So give me Words to speak
Don't let my Spirit sleep

In November 2009, we felt led, after eight years, to try for our third child.  I had my IUD removed, went through numerous hormonal, physical adjustments, and ailments due to that removal, and was happily pregnant by mid-May 2010.

On September 7, 2010, I had my very anticipated 20 week ultrasound.  Later that day, my nurse-midwife called to say that there were questionable things found and there needed to be another more detailed ultrasound.  On September 8, I had this detailed ultrasound, and we were presented with a very crappy prognosis for our future child.

Now my typical reaction to bad news cannot be described as the most gracious and admirable of reactions.  In fact, events of 2008 and my reaction to them probably most exemplify my typical handling of a crisis.

On January 1st, my husband tore his ACL in a skiing accident.  On January 3rd, he received a phone call that his dad was driving his mother to work, had a heart attack and died.  While his mom tried to pound on his chest and control the car, she drove the car into a pole off the road, bruising her face and crushing her hand.  Within a week, my husband's mom and his sister, two brothers, and sister-in-law moved to town.  His mom and sister moved in with us.  My husband's brother and girlfriend, who were already living with us, continued to stay with us until the memorial service was scheduled and performed.

Towards the end of January, while I struggled with one of the worst sinus infections I could remember, my husband had surgery on his ACL at a local surgery center.  And wouldn't you know, all did not go well.  The surgery went quite a bit longer than planned with the doctor later explaining that the hole for the pin broke through the bone, the pin got stuck and had to be retrieved and another hole drilled to circumvent the original mistake.  I then found out that during and after surgery, my husband's pain was never managed and he was sent home by the end of the day in extreme pain with a list of pain killers to take.

The pain pills did not work and, after calling the doctor several times during the week with the result of being put on various narcotics, he finally woke up one night, to my despair, claiming that he couldn't get a deep breath.  He called his doctor who said to call back in the morning if nothing changed.  Instead, the next morning, my husband was in such stress, we dropped the kid's off at school and headed directly to the emergency room.  He was eventually diagnosed with blood clots in his lungs and was put on blood thinners to prevent any new clots.  He stayed in the hospital for about a week. The aforementioned doctor came to his bedside and apologized profusely.

After my husband returned home and was laid up in bed, I had a ruptured ovarian cyst and got my own trip to the hospital since I did not know what is was at first.  In the end, both of us were laid up in bed like the grandparents in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.  My husband's injured mother and sister took care of our two boys and us while we were medicated and sleeping.

By now, I was seriously reaching my limit of what I felt I could take.  Eventually, one night while trying to go to sleep, I broke down and literally screamed out at God.  I was loud, mad, angry, and felt alone.  I threatened and cursed.  I wrestled with God like Jacob.  And my husband prayed.

Later in May, for unrelated reasons, I was put on a low dose of antidepressant for a high heart rate and a history of migraines and depression.

By the end of 2008, I finally felt like life was getting back to "normal".  After recovering from our various ailments, we finally found a new church (which we had begun looking for in November 2007).  I cried through the service every Sunday.  I had also read several Christian books given to me that summer, including The Shack, which provided encouragement and hope over time.  From the end of 2008 through 2009, I experienced a time of relative peace and rest even in the midst of two more family deaths and additional family illnesses.

And then it was September 8, 2010.

Psalm 139:13-16 (New Century Version [modified by me]):

13 You made my [baby's] whole being;
       you formed [him] in my body.
14 I praise you because you made [him] in an amazing and wonderful way.
       What you have done is wonderful.
       I know this very well.
15 You saw [his] bones being formed
       as [he] took shape in my [ ] body.
    When [he] was put together there,
16 you saw [his] body as it was formed.
    All the days planned for [him]
       were written in your book
       before [he] was one day old.

Portions of the Obstetrical Ultrasound Report read "Fetal abnormalities that were noted during today's exam were: right sided talipes, bowing of the right femur and tibia, hands appeared clinched with overlapping of the digits.  The anatomy of the fetal brain is completely disrupted, with none of the usual landmarks or CNS structures having a normal appearance.  Specifically, we note an enlarged cisterna magna; dysgenesis of the cerebellar vermis ("Dandy Walker Complex").  The cerebral hemispheres are displaced laterally and inferiorly, with concomitant lateral and posterior displacement of the choroid plexus', multiple large cystic vascular flow above the circle of Willis.  These findings may be attributable to a destructive process, such as a major vascular occlusion in vessel supplying the CNS, or, less likely, due to a neoplasm such as an intracranial teratoma.  The combination of the CNS findings with the other abnormalities also suggests more generalized disorders such as aneuploidy, or other genetic syndromes."

Below are two of the ultrasound images that illustrate the written report.  The dark areas are the fluid filled cysts:

Looking down from top of head

Looking at profile

That night on September 8, 2010, I cried.  I mourned my expectations of a normal baby.  Throughout the night, I gave the baby to God, the Creator of the baby - the One who forms in the womb.  I asked Jesus to hold my baby in His arms; to comfort and protect him.  I confessed my guilt and fears - guilt over considering aborting, guilt over wanting God to take the baby if he was going to struggle to live on earth, and fears of the baby dying.  I asked for love and strength to take care of a disabled child who might not be able to return the love.  And then I prayed for a miracle.

I had swallowed my pride earlier that evening and asked my husband if I could ask for prayer on Facebook.  My husband had already called the church for prayer earlier too.  Beginning that night, after crying and praying, I began to feel peace.  I felt it had to be the Body of Christ praying for us.  I had never truly felt that before - the peace that passes understanding.

2 Corinthians 12:9 (New International Version [me]):

9 ...“My grace is sufficient for you, for my power [strength, blessing] is made perfect in weakness.”...

Unfortunately, my husband struggled at first, and said he felt God's hand of blessing had been taken away.  I said I felt the opposite.  I began telling my husband and others about the new found blessings found in the midst of yuckiness.  I saw my kid's "faith of a child" brought forth in amazing ways.  My friends and family offered support without questioning our decision to keep the baby.  I felt that weird peace when peace should not have existed.  And everything I read on the internet of other people's experiences after deciding not to abort after being given crappy news from an ultrasound was positive and encouraging whether they lost the child or not.

Isaiah 40:31 (NIV [me]):

31 but those who hope [wait on expectantly] in the LORD
   will renew their strength.
They will soar on wings like eagles;
   they will run and not grow weary,
   they will walk and not be faint.

I felt I could get up every morning because of the prayers - the wings of eagles - offered by the Body of Christ.

I had family call and say they were trying to figure out why this happened, why we were going through this, what we were supposed to learn from this, etc.  But I was not feeling directed to ask "why" - that the answer to "why" will come in the future, in retrospect.  I felt my job right now is to work on my response to the situation.  Was I going to get angry at God again, or was I going to be quiet and receive whatever blessings God may have for me?  Was I going to be fearless in the face of the scary unknown?

I know what I want to do, but I also know that it will not come from me (in my weakness), but from God (in His strength).

Lord Jesus, let me recognize and receive your blessings as they come my way.  Amen

{Choosing Life: Preface Part 2}