Sometimes the miracles of life aren't sudden. No sweeping event where a loved one is saved from a disastrous end. No parting of the Red Sea. No water into wine. No giving sight to the blind man.
Instead, the miracles happen slowly. Over months or years, as God crafts a perfect plan. A plan where only as you look back on what could have been do you fully appreciate His Majesty.
This is one of those times.
Statistically, the number of women who suffer from a uterine rupture during a VBAC (vaginal birth after Cesarean) is slim. Less than 1% actually.
But someone has to be in that 1%. Right?
My doctor and I had worked out a nice plan for the induction.
We were to check in at 5:30 am, get hooked up to the drugs at 7:00 am and hopefully, by lunch time, I'd be far enough along for her to break my water. Then the afternoon would be spent waiting for Rhys to arrive. She wanted me to get the epidural sooner rather than later just in case we needed to do a c-section. That would reduce the lag time.
We totally saw eye to eye on the epidural plan.
The day started off well. We got to the hospital a little early after a both long and short night. I slept pretty well since let's face it, five hours of pregnant sleep is down right blissful. Chris didn't sleep well at all. He was hot, hungry and worried.
The drugs were turned on at 7:38 am with instructions from our nurse that this dose wouldn't "kick me in the teeth" but the contractions would start soon.
And so they did.
The nurse had to actually tell me I was having them. I told Chris that had I started with these at home, I would have completely ignored them.
Around 10:30 am, I felt some leaking fluid and called the nurse. While she was checking me, my water broke.
I actually laughed out loud. It was the strangest feeling.
After that, I grabbed my iPod and turned on my "Rhys" play list. I started to cry almost right away. Part excitement, part nervousness and a whole lot thankful. From the beginning, I'd been praying for my body to actually go into labor. And now here I was, in labor, and ahead of schedule.
All of my Type A-ness loved being ahead of schedule.
Of course, after my water broke, the contractions got stronger. They went from uncomfortable, to yucky, to huh, this is how I feel when I've been glutenated, to let's go ahead and get that epidural now... all in about half an hour.
The contractions were coming pretty quickly too. About every minute and a half. I was feeling some pretty low pressure as well. I started to think, wow, could we have a baby by this afternoon?
And the answer to that question was yes. With an asterisk next to it.
The nurse came in to let us know the anesthesiologist was in surgery so it would be 30 minutes or so before he could get to me.
That was fine. I was dealing pretty well. The Auburn National Championship game was playing on the computer and ESPN was on the TV.
We were fine.
For about 30 more minutes.
Then something changed. Drastically.
I went from getting a break in between contractions to no break. The pain changed too. It became sharp, shooting and constant.
We only lasted a few minutes before we called the nurse. I said something's not right here.
The nurse came in and started feeling my belly. When she asked me what the pain felt like, I said "it feels like my insides are ripping apart."
The pain got much worse so very fast. In just a few minutes, I must have started to look like something out of The Exorcist.
And the anesthesiologist was still in surgery.
Rhys' vitals were awesome. Better than any other baby there, according to the nurse. Mine were good as well. They were especially impressed with my still stable heart rate and low blood pressure considering how much pain I was in. My belly was contracting and I was not bleeding, all good signs the uterus was holding steady.
The only sign of a possible rupture was my pain.
For the past couple of weeks, the center of my belly had been sore. First thing in the morning and by the end of the day, it was actually sore to the touch. Almost like I was bruised. We told the doctor about it the Monday before our induction. She gave it the "hum" treatment and said, that's not normal. We all made a mental note and filed it away.
So when the pain was centralized in that same spot, we all took notice.
Well, everyone else took notice because believe me, I was aware.
The anesthesiologist finally arrived. Now came the time for me to sit very still. Later the nurse would tell me she didn't see anyway I was going to stay still. But I just did it. I knew having it put in didn't take that long and I knew if I didn't get it, they might knock me out.
It would be hard to remember Rhys' delivery if I was unconscious.
I mustered every once of strength I could and focused on what the doctor was doing. Odd to focus on the needles going into my back instead of the pain in my belly but it worked.
What I wasn't prepared for is the amount of time it would take the epidural to kick in. I had to lay flat on my back, which seemed to make the pain worse, and wait for the drugs to take effect. My legs went numb quickly but it took another 45 minutes for the pain in my belly to go away. Very odd feeling to be totally numb except for the center of my belly where the pain was. Odd and still horribly painful. But I couldn't roll around anymore.
After that came decision time. Again, the only sign of a possible problem was my pain. Our doctor told us she would do what we wanted. If we wanted to wait and see how I progressed for the VBAC, we could. Just be prepared for things to move quickly if something did happen.
She stepped out and gave us a minute to talk. Honestly, I was terrified we would opt for the c-section only to discover there was nothing wrong. Then all the pain would mean I was just a complete wimp.
Chris said he would do what I wanted. However, he said, I have no interest in raising two babies as a single dad.
That sealed it for me.
We had been praying for clear direction and for me, that came from Chris. I knew the surgery wouldn't be fun but it was the safe choice. We couldn't handle choosing a possible VBAC and risk losing me or (more importantly to me) Rhys.
Once we said c-section, we had to wait for an OR to open up. Took about 30 to 45 minutes for that. During that time, I did start bleeding. By the time the OR was open, the anesthesiologist was giving me the drugs while I was being pushed down the hall. No one said anything, but I suspect the bleeding changed the game.
Things in the OR were relaxed and actually...enjoyable. The nurses, doctors and techs were great to tell me what they were doing. I like a play by play. And since I'd been through this once before, I wasn't nearly as anxious. The bleeding continued and while I was being prepped, they changed my bed pad twice. Both completely blood soaked.
So much for no additional symptoms.
Didn't take long to confirm. The doctors about started high-fiving themselves. Yep, a ruptured uterus. They even invited Chris to stand up over the drape to see. He thought it was so cool. The tear was about two inches and my doctor opened up the rest of the uterus with her finger. Like you would open a wet envelope.
You're welcome.
Rhys came quickly. His cry was fabulous. Loud and clear.
And I could breathe.
Chris videoed the delivery in case the drugs made me forget. I'm so grateful for that but thankfully, I remember every detail.
After he was born, the doctors did their thing. The cool part was they took down the drape so I could talk with them while they worked. In an odd way, I felt like I was on a winning team of sorts. The doctors were so pleased we caught the rupture early and I was tickled pink that my remake of The Exorcist writhing in pain was justified.
To say we are in awe of how God orchestrated each perfect detail doesn't even touch it. Almost without fail, I fall asleep thinking through the events and thanking God for His love and grace. This certainly wasn't the birth story I had been praying for. No, God had something better planned. Yet another moment in our journey to bring me to His feet. To remind me what I want and what needed to happen were two very different things.
He is in control.
A new job that moved us north last summer.
The new city's hospital policy about laboring with a doctor in the building. And encouraged induction instead of allowing me to labor at home which could have created a serious emergency.
A doctor who approached our VBAC attempt realistically and cautiously, always on the look-out for distress. She never once dismissed any small deviation from "normal."
The anesthesiologist who was stuck in surgery and couldn't give me the epidural right away. Had he been johnny on the spot, we would have missed the first symptom, the pain.
The delayed bleeding so we could wait for an open OR.
A big, healthy, strong baby boy who never once was in distress.
And me, a generally wimpy girl who's vitals stayed miraculously strong despite the worst pain I had ever experienced.
I feel there is more to learn from this as well. God was showing me myself, I think. Showing me where I doubt myself and where I doubt how He sees me. I will be in prayer about those lessons for a long time.
I sit here now at almost 1 am, listening to our precious Rhys sleeping next to me, and feel again so undeserving of this blessed life. Oh, how flawed I am. How I must break His heart every day with my petty frustrations and easily distracted heart.
And yet, here we are. Beautiful, beautiful love. Oh how He loves us.
So if someone has to be the 1%, I am so very grateful He selected us. To feel His love, experience how in control He is, to get to hold my precious son...I'd do it all over again.
Instead, the miracles happen slowly. Over months or years, as God crafts a perfect plan. A plan where only as you look back on what could have been do you fully appreciate His Majesty.
This is one of those times.
Statistically, the number of women who suffer from a uterine rupture during a VBAC (vaginal birth after Cesarean) is slim. Less than 1% actually.
But someone has to be in that 1%. Right?
My doctor and I had worked out a nice plan for the induction.
We were to check in at 5:30 am, get hooked up to the drugs at 7:00 am and hopefully, by lunch time, I'd be far enough along for her to break my water. Then the afternoon would be spent waiting for Rhys to arrive. She wanted me to get the epidural sooner rather than later just in case we needed to do a c-section. That would reduce the lag time.
We totally saw eye to eye on the epidural plan.
The day started off well. We got to the hospital a little early after a both long and short night. I slept pretty well since let's face it, five hours of pregnant sleep is down right blissful. Chris didn't sleep well at all. He was hot, hungry and worried.
The drugs were turned on at 7:38 am with instructions from our nurse that this dose wouldn't "kick me in the teeth" but the contractions would start soon.
And so they did.
The nurse had to actually tell me I was having them. I told Chris that had I started with these at home, I would have completely ignored them.
Around 10:30 am, I felt some leaking fluid and called the nurse. While she was checking me, my water broke.
I actually laughed out loud. It was the strangest feeling.
After that, I grabbed my iPod and turned on my "Rhys" play list. I started to cry almost right away. Part excitement, part nervousness and a whole lot thankful. From the beginning, I'd been praying for my body to actually go into labor. And now here I was, in labor, and ahead of schedule.
All of my Type A-ness loved being ahead of schedule.
Of course, after my water broke, the contractions got stronger. They went from uncomfortable, to yucky, to huh, this is how I feel when I've been glutenated, to let's go ahead and get that epidural now... all in about half an hour.
The contractions were coming pretty quickly too. About every minute and a half. I was feeling some pretty low pressure as well. I started to think, wow, could we have a baby by this afternoon?
And the answer to that question was yes. With an asterisk next to it.
The nurse came in to let us know the anesthesiologist was in surgery so it would be 30 minutes or so before he could get to me.
That was fine. I was dealing pretty well. The Auburn National Championship game was playing on the computer and ESPN was on the TV.
We were fine.
For about 30 more minutes.
Then something changed. Drastically.
I went from getting a break in between contractions to no break. The pain changed too. It became sharp, shooting and constant.
We only lasted a few minutes before we called the nurse. I said something's not right here.
The nurse came in and started feeling my belly. When she asked me what the pain felt like, I said "it feels like my insides are ripping apart."
The pain got much worse so very fast. In just a few minutes, I must have started to look like something out of The Exorcist.
And the anesthesiologist was still in surgery.
Rhys' vitals were awesome. Better than any other baby there, according to the nurse. Mine were good as well. They were especially impressed with my still stable heart rate and low blood pressure considering how much pain I was in. My belly was contracting and I was not bleeding, all good signs the uterus was holding steady.
The only sign of a possible rupture was my pain.
For the past couple of weeks, the center of my belly had been sore. First thing in the morning and by the end of the day, it was actually sore to the touch. Almost like I was bruised. We told the doctor about it the Monday before our induction. She gave it the "hum" treatment and said, that's not normal. We all made a mental note and filed it away.
So when the pain was centralized in that same spot, we all took notice.
Well, everyone else took notice because believe me, I was aware.
The anesthesiologist finally arrived. Now came the time for me to sit very still. Later the nurse would tell me she didn't see anyway I was going to stay still. But I just did it. I knew having it put in didn't take that long and I knew if I didn't get it, they might knock me out.
It would be hard to remember Rhys' delivery if I was unconscious.
I mustered every once of strength I could and focused on what the doctor was doing. Odd to focus on the needles going into my back instead of the pain in my belly but it worked.
What I wasn't prepared for is the amount of time it would take the epidural to kick in. I had to lay flat on my back, which seemed to make the pain worse, and wait for the drugs to take effect. My legs went numb quickly but it took another 45 minutes for the pain in my belly to go away. Very odd feeling to be totally numb except for the center of my belly where the pain was. Odd and still horribly painful. But I couldn't roll around anymore.
After that came decision time. Again, the only sign of a possible problem was my pain. Our doctor told us she would do what we wanted. If we wanted to wait and see how I progressed for the VBAC, we could. Just be prepared for things to move quickly if something did happen.
She stepped out and gave us a minute to talk. Honestly, I was terrified we would opt for the c-section only to discover there was nothing wrong. Then all the pain would mean I was just a complete wimp.
Chris said he would do what I wanted. However, he said, I have no interest in raising two babies as a single dad.
That sealed it for me.
We had been praying for clear direction and for me, that came from Chris. I knew the surgery wouldn't be fun but it was the safe choice. We couldn't handle choosing a possible VBAC and risk losing me or (more importantly to me) Rhys.
Once we said c-section, we had to wait for an OR to open up. Took about 30 to 45 minutes for that. During that time, I did start bleeding. By the time the OR was open, the anesthesiologist was giving me the drugs while I was being pushed down the hall. No one said anything, but I suspect the bleeding changed the game.
Things in the OR were relaxed and actually...enjoyable. The nurses, doctors and techs were great to tell me what they were doing. I like a play by play. And since I'd been through this once before, I wasn't nearly as anxious. The bleeding continued and while I was being prepped, they changed my bed pad twice. Both completely blood soaked.
So much for no additional symptoms.
Didn't take long to confirm. The doctors about started high-fiving themselves. Yep, a ruptured uterus. They even invited Chris to stand up over the drape to see. He thought it was so cool. The tear was about two inches and my doctor opened up the rest of the uterus with her finger. Like you would open a wet envelope.
You're welcome.
Rhys came quickly. His cry was fabulous. Loud and clear.
And I could breathe.
Chris videoed the delivery in case the drugs made me forget. I'm so grateful for that but thankfully, I remember every detail.
After he was born, the doctors did their thing. The cool part was they took down the drape so I could talk with them while they worked. In an odd way, I felt like I was on a winning team of sorts. The doctors were so pleased we caught the rupture early and I was tickled pink that my remake of The Exorcist writhing in pain was justified.
To say we are in awe of how God orchestrated each perfect detail doesn't even touch it. Almost without fail, I fall asleep thinking through the events and thanking God for His love and grace. This certainly wasn't the birth story I had been praying for. No, God had something better planned. Yet another moment in our journey to bring me to His feet. To remind me what I want and what needed to happen were two very different things.
He is in control.
A new job that moved us north last summer.
The new city's hospital policy about laboring with a doctor in the building. And encouraged induction instead of allowing me to labor at home which could have created a serious emergency.
A doctor who approached our VBAC attempt realistically and cautiously, always on the look-out for distress. She never once dismissed any small deviation from "normal."
The anesthesiologist who was stuck in surgery and couldn't give me the epidural right away. Had he been johnny on the spot, we would have missed the first symptom, the pain.
The delayed bleeding so we could wait for an open OR.
A big, healthy, strong baby boy who never once was in distress.
And me, a generally wimpy girl who's vitals stayed miraculously strong despite the worst pain I had ever experienced.
I feel there is more to learn from this as well. God was showing me myself, I think. Showing me where I doubt myself and where I doubt how He sees me. I will be in prayer about those lessons for a long time.
I sit here now at almost 1 am, listening to our precious Rhys sleeping next to me, and feel again so undeserving of this blessed life. Oh, how flawed I am. How I must break His heart every day with my petty frustrations and easily distracted heart.
And yet, here we are. Beautiful, beautiful love. Oh how He loves us.
So if someone has to be the 1%, I am so very grateful He selected us. To feel His love, experience how in control He is, to get to hold my precious son...I'd do it all over again.
What a beautiful "account" of God's love and provision for us!
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