Today is mine and Damon’s two and a half year wedding
anniversary, and is also the one year anniversary of the day we found out that
we were going to have a baby! How amazingly life has changed since we saw that second
faint line on that stick!
So so faint, but it's there!!!
I have wanted, for a while now, to write about
the birth of our beautiful baby girl. There is so much intense emotion to this
story and it is so dear to my heart that I have had a difficult time mustering
the courage to sit down and put it all down in writing. I’ve tried a few times
already. I hope that by putting it out there, not only will my heart be lifted,
but maybe this story might touch the life of someone out there facing a
difficult decision. This is a BIRTH story, and though there are details that I
will not include in this blog, pregnancy and giving birth is still a graphic
process, so if you’re not okay with getting all the details, you are welcome to
discontinue reading here. J
As I said before and as I documented in a previous post, we
found out we were pregnant on August 25, 2012. It was a Saturday morning that
changed our lives! We wanted to proceed with caution when it came to telling
all our family and friends about the pregnancy, but I quickly became so sick
that it was hard to keep a secret, so we called our families together to tell
them our exciting news! The following months were some of the most exciting,
and surely the most miserable I had ever experienced. The “morning” sickness
kicked in pretty much as soon as I found out I was pregnant, and lasted from
the moment I woke up in the morning to the second I fell asleep at night. Then
of course I managed to catch a case of bronchitis that I could not kick, so for
six months of my pregnancy, not only did I feel terrible, I got to endure the
lovely side effect coughing has on a pregnant woman’s body. So much for
enjoying pad-free life.
We had a “gender reveal” appointment when I was 16 weeks and
found out we were expecting a girl. Such a happy day! Then when I was 18 weeks
pregnant, we went for our “big” ultrasound appointment where they check the
baby’s growth as well as check organs and all of that development. Seeing your
baby’s little profile, tiny hands and feet, perfect little spine and head, all
for the first time, one of the most amazing things ever. The equipment the technician
was using was brand new to their facility and she was still learning all of the
settings, so our appointment took longer than we anticipated, but I didn’t mind
for a second. I felt like I was watching the best movie of my life, even though
I didn’t know most of what I was seeing, I knew it was my baby! We received a
video of the ultrasound as well as photos of her profile, feet, arm, spine, as
well as a typical gender reveal photo. On our way home I called my mom and let
her know that our baby was definitely a girl and all of her growth and
development was looking perfect. After I finished talking to my mom I got the photos
out and looked at the tiny profile of my sweet baby girl and for the first time
I got a feeling that something wasn’t quite right. Something about that little
face that I already loved so much made my heart drop a little. Of course, I
didn’t want to believe that the feeling I was having could possibly be right,
plus everything with the pregnancy, other than me being miserable, was going so
perfectly. I tucked the pictures back into my bag and went back to that
blissful excitement of planning for a baby girl! The pregnancy continued to
progress perfectly. Growth was perfect, her heartbeat was strong, I never had
any spotting or really anything to raise any concern. Still, every once in a while I would take out
the ultrasound picture and get the same sinking feeling. I almost felt guilty.
Like I was feeling this way for no reason and there some something wrong with me
and my bond with my baby.
Finally, I reached the last month of the pregnancy. Just as
things started to settle down with the bronchitis and I was feeling good, the false
labor started up. I had been having Braxton Hicks contractions for most of my
pregnancy, but the false labor was exhausting. At my 36 week appointment I was
already dilated to 2 centimeters! I was
so excited and so ready to be done being pregnant. At each of my following
weekly appointments I had progressed a little further, but still no actual
labor.
On May 2nd, we went to our regular OBGYN
appointment. I was 39 weeks and 4 days pregnant. I was miserable, exhausted,
and both Damon and I were getting extremely anxious for the birth of our baby
girl. At our appointment I was told that I was now dilated to 5 centimeters!
Because of the false labor, how close I was to my due date, and the fact that I
was already so dilated; my doctor agreed that I could be induced the next day!
We were all betting (including my doctor) that I would just go into labor that
night because of the way things were progressing, but either way, we knew that
we would very shortly be meeting our little daughter. Damon and I spent the
rest of that day doing last minute shopping and enjoying our last evening as a
kid-free couple!
I didn’t go into labor that night, but regardless, I don’t
think either of us slept very well. We both woke up at about 5:30 ready to call
Labor and Delivery at 6 to see when we should go in. We were instructed to be
there to check in at 8am. We got to the Hospital just after 8 and were greeted
warmly right as we walked in. They showed us our room and introduced us to
Krista, our labor and delivery nurse. This woman was amazing. Damon and I could
not be more grateful for the experience she helped us have. Right away she put
us at ease, answered all of the questions we had as well as any questions we
should have had, but didn’t know to ask. This was amazing, because I originally
did not want to be induced, and was therefore pretty nervous.
The morning before my baby was born!!
Just after I had changed into my ever so lovely hospital
gown, my parents showed up to help pass the time. I was started on a small
amount of Pitocin right off the bat and then we waited. We chatted with my
parents for a while and then Damon turned on a video of Bill Engvall the
comedian on Netflix, which we all enjoyed. They continued to increase the
Pitocin throughout the day, but my contractions were still pretty mild. At 1pm
my doctor came in and broke my water. Way less dramatic than I anticipated, but
the contractions definitely picked up after that. Damon and my parents took
turns going to get lunch and some time after, (my concept of time gets
increasingly poor from here on out) I asked for something for the pain. I
anticipated getting an epidural, but decided a long time ago that I wanted to
experience labor and just see what my body could do. I discussed this with
Krista and she said she would support and help me as much as she could as well
as show Damon and I different positions and techniques to help manage the pain.
Posed picture
How I really felt
I was given an intravenous pain killer in the meantime to take the edge off,
which made me extremely loopy.The potency of that drug decreased with each use
and its effectiveness only lasted about an hour. By the time Damon’s parents
got to the hospital I was having pretty severe pain and couldn’t really take
part in any conversation. I think I received 2 or 3 doses of the pain killer
and then refused an additional one as I could no longer feel its effects. This
is where Krista stepped in and instructed us to try different positions and
pressure points to help with the pain. Sometime during this I was checked again
and measured 6.5 centimeters. I felt
pretty let down by this lack of progression, even though everyone else was
applauding the progress. As the pain got
worse we tried using the exercise ball, which I sat on as I leaned over the
hospital bed and Damon applied pressure to my lower back. This was helpful and
we stayed there until I was in so much pain that I couldn’t help but cry with
each contraction despite Damon’s amazing support and instruction. At that point I basically begged for an
epidural. Before they could call in the
anesthesiologist they had to check my progress again. I had gone from a 6.5 to a 9.5. It was way too
late for an epidural. Our sweet nurse
then had me stand up and lean against Damon, who again, applied pressure to my
lower back as I rocked back and forth.
We did this until I couldn’t NOT push any longer. I did quite a bit of reading about labor
during my pregnancy and had heard numberless stories of other people’s labors,
so I sort of knew what to expect, but even so, the intensity of everything was
so much more than I could have imagined. The fact that you get almost complete
relief between insane contractions is mind blowing. I was able to start pushing before the doctor
got there. I don’t know how long I pushed, it honestly didn’t seem terribly
long when I originally looked back on it, but after asking Damon he assured me
that I pushed for a very long time. He guesses about two hours. It was just
Damon, my mom, our nurse, and the doctor and they were all such an amazing
support group. Damon has since commented about how interesting it was that
everyone was so full of praise with every push, but for so much of the time, it
didn’t seem like I was getting anywhere. All I know is that I heard the praise.
I knew my mom was holding a cool washcloth on my forehead and I had to push the
pain away so I could see my baby. Without those things, I would have given up
for sure. Finally my doctor put his paper gown on, which is what Krista told me
would be the sign that it was business time. Because I had been pushing so long
and she still wasn’t here, he ended up giving me a pretty severe episiotomy,
which was not on my list of wants, but as soon as I saw her it was obvious that
it was necessary. They scooped her up and placed her sputtering purple body on
my chest while Damon cut the cord. The first words out of my mouth were ‘Why is
she purple?’ Like it wasn’t obvious, but I seemed to be more concerned about it
than anyone else. They proceeded to
suck out her nose and mouth and rub her with towels. She still wasn’t quite
getting pink enough, so they took her to the warming table and got her cleaned
up and got some pink in her skin. When they brought her back, they again laid
her on my chest, but this time with her body facing me. I laid eyes on her tiny
face and immediately I knew. Her face was so swollen, but still she had the
tiniest features and those little slanted eyes. I finally knew what my heart
had known for months, my precious baby daughter has Down syndrome. I only got
to hold her for a minute or so before they whisked her away for a second time,
because she was losing that pink color again. I didn’t really seem to register
anything else at that point. My mind went completely numb. Damon and my mom
kept coming back and forth between me and the baby and I kept asking, and
perhaps this was the wrong thing for me to be asking, but I had to know if
anyone else noticed. I kept asking “how does she look?”. The response was always
“she looks great”, “she’s looking great”. One of the nurses, there were a few
at this point and I didn’t register which one, held up a page with her little
foot prints on it. All I could muster was a half-smile. It was like my brain
was exploding and imploding on itself all at once. Everyone had told me that
having a natural (epidural free, since I wouldn’t exactly consider mine ‘natural’)
child birth was so exhilarating. That there was this rush of adrenalin, and you
felt amazing and alive afterwards. I felt like I had been hit by a truck. They
read off her APGAR score: 7 out of 9. As well as her height and weight: 7lbs,
11oz, 19.25 inches long.
First ever picture!
The nurse that
had been working with the baby said that she was still having some trouble
keeping her oxygen levels up, so she was going to take her up to the nursery to
‘keep an eye on her’. It may have just been my brain, but the way she left the
room and the look in her eye as she took my baby away made me suspect that she
had figured out what I knew. Damon followed her up to the nursery and by the
time the doctor was done sewing me up, everyone had cleared out except a nurse.
I’m pretty sure she had been there for the delivery, but Krista had gone, and
the room was dark, and I was so weak and mentally numb I could barely move.
This new nurse then told me that I needed to get up and shower or at least go
to the bathroom. I told her that I couldn’t. She said that I needed to, so I lifted
my legs over the edge of the bed. I hesitated and asked her if I should just
stand up and walk over, and she said yes. So I stood up. As I stood up, blood
started flowing, gushing down my legs, soaking my socks and creating a giant
puddle on the floor. I hobbled over to the bathroom, leaving a trail of blood
the entire way, and sat down, where the nurse attempted to clean me up. I still
don’t know if this is normal procedure, but it sure didn’t feel right and as I
was sitting in the bathroom I was hit with extreme lightheadedness and couldn’t
catch my breath. I told the nurse that I was going to pass out, and her casual
response was “Oh, really?” I’m sure I
was white as a sheet, because when she turned to look at me she said she would
get a wheelchair, and ran out of the room. She came back in with a gurney (?)
which I hobbled over to and sat down on, but I really couldn’t breathe, so I laid
down and that seemed to help a little. It was then that Damon came back into
the room. He was carrying two sheets of paper and had obviously been crying. He
asked the nurse to leave and set the papers down on the bed where I was laying.
He stood there. I don’t remember exactly how the conversation went, but through
tears he told me “they think she has Down syndrome”… I calmly responded that I knew. At this point,
the love of my life was sobbing in front of me. I could see his world crashing
down around him, and I couldn’t even cry. He asked how I knew and I told him that I knew
it as soon as I saw her, and motioned for him to come to me. I couldn’t bring
myself to sit up, so he just buried his head in my shoulder and sobbed. Never
in my life could I ever imagine a feeling like that. Still, I couldn’t cry. The
papers he had brought in were about the NICU, the place I had been adamant that
our baby would not be going. Needless to say, this was all a huge adjustment for us. Our
baby was full term, the pregnancy was complication free, and our ultrasound had
come back normal. We were expecting a smooth delivery and a healthy baby that
we could take home within a few days.
The nurse came back in and they wheeled me up to recovery.
Damon had the job of telling our families the news. His family was still there,
but my parents had gone home for the night. I will never forget the love and
support that we received from the incredible people we call family that night
and in the following days. Immediately we had arms around us and words of
comfort and love were being spoken. My sister-in-law, Ashley, found us a movie
to watch, and I was brought some food, which I almost attempted to eat. I still
couldn’t cry. Even though my life had just been turned upside down and I was
longing for the baby I couldn’t see, I could barely even talk. I was still too
numb, but unfortunately the trauma of the night was not over yet. I don’t
really remember the order of events, but Damon made the phone call to my Dad,
and his family left. The nurse came in again and told me that I needed to get
up to go to the bathroom again. I got up and got into the bathroom, but as soon
as I sat down I felt extremely faint again. I had a different nurse at this
point, but unfortunately, she wasn’t any more helpful than the last. I told her
that I was going to pass out, and then I was gone. The next thing I remember
seeing is a bathroom full of nurses, and Damon standing in the hallway looking
absolutely mortified. They helped me into a wheelchair and then back onto the
hospital bed, at which point I started to shake uncontrollably. This was also
an experience unlike anything I had been through before. I was completely conscious,
but I could not stop my body from this violent shaking. To make matters worse,
the nurses looked pretty caught off guard as well. They gave me oxygen and
started piling warm blankets over me, and eventually the shaking subsided, but
they couldn’t tell us what was going on. My sweet husband, my rock, my love and
support had obviously gone through too much. I can’t imagine having to be on
his side of things, and would never ever in a million years ask him to go
through what I was going through. After this episode, which was probably at
around midnight, he called my dad and said he needed him to come back. My
parents were immediately on their way (the hospital was about 45 minutes from
their house). When my parents arrived, Damon and my dad went down to the NICU
to see the baby. We were telling people by that point, that we were naming her
Paige.
Proud Daddy
Proud Grandpa
While they were gone, the nurse came in, and though she
promised to have more people with her to help me to the bathroom this time, she
was alone. Again when I sat down I started to feel faint and told her I was
going to pass out. She kept telling me to stay awake, to stay up, to look at
her, almost as if she was irritated that I was having this problem... Thank
goodness my mom was there this time, because she was the one that rushed in to
catch me. When I woke up this time it was like the wind had been knocked out of
me and I struggled for several seconds to breathe. The room was again filled
with anxious looking nurses again and they helped me back into bed and covered
me with the warm blankets. Damon and my dad had come back by the time they had
me back in bed, and Damon kept telling the nurses that I had lost too much
blood. They told him over and over again that they looked at the chart and that
my blood loss was within normal limits. He is a stubborn and smart man and
continued to tell them that that was the problem and that I needed a blood
transfusion. They started running tests at that point to see what was going on
as this was obviously a real problem. My wonderful parents agreed to stay with me
so Damon could go home and actually get a few hours of sleep. He left the
hospital at about 4 am, and my parents literally slept on the floor of the
recovery room.
Morning came, though sleep didn’t really, because of the
nurses poking and prodding all night long, and my brain that would not stop
going. Once I had been up and breakfast was brought in, a wonderful lady
doctor, whose name I unfortunately don’t remember, came in to figure out what
was wrong with me. She said her main priority was to get me well enough so I
could go downstairs and see my baby. Bless her. They took more blood and said
they’d be back in a few hours. As we waited I finally ate some food and had a
talk with my parents. The numbness had subsided enough for me to talk, and I
don’t know how it came about, but as my mom was sitting next to me I finally I
burst into tears, telling her that I didn’t want people telling me that they
were sorry. I had just given birth to a baby. We brought a new life into this
world and it was something to be celebrated. The last thing I wanted was for
people to tell me that they were sorry. From there the crying didn’t stop for
days. Finally the doctor came back with my blood test results and to everyone,
except Damon’s, surprise, I had lost too much blood, and needed a blood
transfusion. The doctor told me that I wasn’t going to die if I didn’t get the
blood, but that it would probably take about a month for my body to make up the
loss, and I would feel terrible for that entire month. I agreed to the blood
transfusion. She said it would take a few hours for them to get the blood in
and everything set up, so if I felt up to it, I could go down and see my baby. I
was taken, by wheelchair, of course, since I couldn’t stand without passing
out, down to the NICU, to see my baby daughter. Over 14 hours after she was
whisked away in the delivery room, I got to truly hold my baby for the first
time. Damon was a NICU pro by then, so he took me in and right to her. He
lifted her little swaddled body up out of the heating bed and handed her to me.
Talk about overwhelmed. She was still very puffy, but fortunately very pink and
so unbelievably beautiful.
Terrible photo of me. But this is the first time I got to hold my baby.
She had an IV in her head for antibiotics because
she had developed pneumonia; she was also receiving her nutrition through the
same IV. There was a little bag filled with what looked like yellow Gatorade,
and a large syringe filled with a white substance that frankly looked like
lard. She had the oxygen cannula in her nose as well as the oximeter on her
foot. There were also heart monitor patches all over her torso. This was my
first real experience holding my little Paige. I was so overwhelmed, but so so
in love.
When Paige was born, I had merely a basic knowledge of Down
syndrome, so receiving that diagnosis and slowly learning all of the details
and the different problems we could be facing was very frightening. About 50%
of children with Down syndrome are born with heart defects. This was the first
and most terrifying detail that we had to figure out. Paige’s first Echo showed
a small hole between her right and left atria. We were told that this was very
common, even in typical children, and usually heals on its own, given time. No
other problems or defects were found at the time, which was an incredible
blessing. The blessings continued, and continue, to pour down on us. Paige was
on antibiotics for 5 days, but she mastered drinking from a bottle, which is
often a concern with babies with Ds because of their low muscle tone. We
brought Paige home on May 14, 2013, which just so happened to be Mother’s Day.
It was the most amazing Mother’s Day gift I could ever imagine. She was still
on oxygen, so we had to take that home with us, which was a trial, but we
learned, and after six weeks, she was strong enough to be taken off of it
completely. On May 31st, we went to Primary Children’s Medical
Center in Riverton to have a second echo performed to see if the hole in Paige’s
heart had healed. The extremely skilled technicians performed the Echo and
another EKG. We then spoke with a nice doctor who announced that he doesn’t get
to give this news very often, but he wouldn’t need to see us again, because our
Paige has a perfectly healthy heart! Music to our ears! The same week we had to
have a hearing rescreen because Paige failed her first two hearing tests. She
passed her rescreen with flying colors!
These were amazing and relieving weights lifted off our
shoulders, but the big picture was still looming. Our child has Down syndrome.
What was that going to mean for her life? The picture we had painted in our
heads for our family and our daughter’s life were turned upside down and we had
to start over. There is no real way to express the sorrow you feel when you get
this kind of news. After we received her diagnosis both Damon and I did quite a
bit of reading, and I found in one of the books I read a very accurate description
of how I was really feeling. The author expressed her feelings as she went
through a similar experience as, and I’m paraphrasing, a despair so deep, you
feel it with every fiber of your being. That rang true for me, and I felt so
unbelievably guilty that I could feel that way. Every parent wants what is best
for their child. They want them to have every advantage possible so they can
have a happy, successful life. I felt as if I, personally, took that away from
her by giving her this syndrome. I have since realized that this thought was
wrong on many levels, but those first weeks were some of the hardest I have
ever encountered. Somehow, regardless of the numerous people continually
telling me that it was ok to be sad and this was a natural grieving process and
things will get better, I took the most solace from literature written by other
parents who had encountered the same situation. To be able to read a statement
from a fellow parent telling me exactly how I was feeling, at that it was OKAY
that I was feeling that way, made me feel like it actually was ok. Looking
back, almost four months later, I almost, and I say almost, can’t even remember those feelings of despair and fear. I
have the most amazing daughter. She has exceeded my expectations in every way,
and I never, ever imagined being able to love someone as much as I love her. My
daughter has Down syndrome, but as of right now, she is a perfectly healthy,
normal baby. She is a sweet, smiley, busy, strong, happy girl and the absolute
light of mine and Damon’s lives. The future still holds a lot of unknowns, but I
have the best partner I could ask for, and we have the most amazing support
group. I thank my Heavenly Father every day for the incredible blessing I have been given. I wouldn’t change what I have for anything.
