Our Birth Story (Day 9 - Hope Against Hope)

I went into the hospital about eight weeks shy of the time given to us that could increase the chances of our baby's survival.  I purposed in my heart to believe the best.

A week went by in the hospital.  I was in such high spirits as family and friends were there day and night in faith with us.  I had been referring to baby as a girl the entire pregnancy.  I had a name for a daughter, never for a son.  When we created videos to detail our birth story, I used that name.

Doctors could never determine the sex of the baby each time they checked.  But I knew a baby girl was growing inside of me.  I dreamt of having a daughter, a mini-me of sorts.  A daughter who loved what I loved...shopping, everything artsy, reading and so much more but most importantly, Jesus.

She would be so much more than I had become.  She would learn from my mistakes and share some of my strengths.  I imagined her to be so beautiful with pretty eyes and flawless skin.  I imagined people would be drawn to her infectious personality.  She would be the life of the party!

This hope I held onto made my hospital stay bearable even through the nights of unrest as I was awakened relentlessly being poked and prodded as nurses listened for baby's heartbeat and checked my vitals.

One night when I went to the restroom, I noticed a green substance I hadn't seen before.  I called the nurse in and I was told they would continue to monitor me and the baby.  This could have been the baby having a bowel movement on the inside of me which could ultimately be poisonous to the both of us.

At this point, I was barely over 24 weeks.  I prayed God to give us more time.  We still had a several weeks to go.

I woke up early on the morning of June 14, 2008, (I was 25 weeks exactly) to this same substance and again called the nurse. This nurse reacted much differently.  She said this was the baby's bowels and the baby would have to be delivered soon.  Via C-Section.

WAIT!!!  I hadn't prepared this.  When this happened just days before, the nurse acted as if it really wasn't a big deal.  She didn't make any hasty moves.  She wanted to only monitor us.

Now I find myself being prepped for a C-Section.  We were about to have our baby!  My husband called everyone to give them the news and our family came immediately to the hospital.

I remember the look on my husband's face when he was asked to be excused as they gave me an epidural before the procedure.  Our eyes connected as we prayed silently.  God please move on our behalf.  

Once I was given the epidural, I was moved into a room with multiple doctors preparing to give birth. My husband soon joined me in the room.  He held my hand.  He called on Jesus.  This was all we knew to do.

Before long, one of the doctors called out, it was indeed a girl!  Tears streamed down my husband's face. I didn't cry.  I don't know if it's because deep down, I knew.  Reese Madison was born.

It wasn't the common scene of babies entering the world.  There wasn't the sound of newborn cries. We didn't even get to see our baby girl.  She was urgently rushed off to the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit (NICU).

We celebrated the arrival of our baby girl!  In fact, our family erupted in praise and celebration so that the hospital staff had to ask them to quiet down.  

Our baby had arrived, much earlier than expected.  But Reese Madison was here!  I just wanted to hold her, touch her, see her.  It would be a while before I was able to do any of that.

This is Day 9 of a 31 day series of “Hope Against Hope”. To read all of the posts in this series, click here. To read what several other bloggers are writing for the month of October, click here