Chapter 5- My Lord Knows the Way Through the Wilderness

And now I sit here.... frozen. The sickness in the pit of my stomach is indescribable. My hands are shaking and I have tears freely flowing... Remembering the next 36 hours is one thing but sharing it with the world is such an unbelievably difficult task. Although I have had miscarriages in the past, the loss of Gabriel has changed my life in unexplainable ways. There is no way I can prepare you for the detailed pain and circumstances I am about to share with you other than to say... God's grace is amazing!

Saturday, September 17, 2011 was different. I was on strict instructions to stay in bed so the only thing I did was a quick shower to wash the gross feeling of dried blood off of me from 2 days before when I was in the emergency room hemorrhaging. Even getting up to go to the bathroom was a very cautious task. Although I felt I was laying, waiting for my baby to die at any moment, I still managed an upbeat spirit. I enjoyed a visit with our preacher and his wife mid day and the rest of the time I just tried to focus on every movement I felt and every moment I had to enjoy being pregnant. I talked to my baby boy A LOT this day and the family spent a lot of time laying beside me talking to him and rubbing and kissing my belly. I took this time to try and prepare my kids... if anything were to go wrong I wanted them to know our baby was too tiny to live. We looked at "in utero" pictures of babies at 14 weeks from a book provided by my OB. We found things that represented our babies approximate size. (as we had done throughout the past weeks) I explained to them that the baby would not be able to breath to live if he was born and that he would have to go live with Jesus. More than anything I wanted them to understand the baby was sick and could die. The kids prayed on again off again through the day that the baby would be safe. And I was very thankful when it came time for all of them to go to bed so I could take off the brave face and just be scared for a bit. As my mom and husband got the kids ready for bed and got them situated I laid in bed enjoying the time with my ever so active baby and marveled at the miracle he was still alive! A few minutes later my mom came in and asked how I was doing. I told her I was kinda chilled so we took my temp and discovered a low grade temp of 99.9. I would have normally just blown it off, but with the events of the last 2 days I went ahead and called the doctor. She told me that I was not really at risk for an infection because what was happening was in a sterile environment inside my body. I found this a little ironic since the doc in the ER had so strongly insisted that I was risking my life because of the risk of infection, but I took the doctors word for it and relaxed. I enjoyed the fluttering going on in my belly and thanked God for one more moment with my baby and went to sleep.

Sunday (September 18, 2011) I woke up feeling just as good as the night before and did not really notice if I was running a fever or not. My mom had come by to help my husband get the kids ready for church and sit with me while he went in to teach his class. When I got up to go to the bathroom I noticed Desi had on a summer dress and it was quite cool outside so I went to her closet and picked out a warmer dress and instructed her to change and walked to the bathroom. At this point I felt fine. No cramping or contractions or pain of any sort for that matter. When I sat down on the toilet however I passed a large clot that was about as big as my hand and out of nowhere I was having a constant contraction. Although I was in severe pain all I could think about was that I had just delivered my baby into the toilet and I could not flush him down the toilet... I had to make sure he was not in there. Praise the Lord it was just a clot. I made my way back to my room and shut the door to try to pull myself together before my kids saw me. Desi walked in the door behind me and immediately called for her daddy. After reassuring her that I was just hurting and that I was fine I made her leave. I told my husband I needed to go to the hospital, but that I needed him to get the kids out of the house and to church. All my kids came in and kissed me... little did I know those "lovies" would sustain me through some of the scariest moments of my life! I called and got a friend set to take the kids and called my husband to tell him to meet us at the hospital. I look back at these moments and I am shocked I was able to think as clearly as I was with the severe pain I was in. I was barely able to concentrate on the task of getting dressed and finding my shoes. So thankful for my mama being there and knowing what I needed.

On the way to the hospital my contractions actually started get a rhythm to them and I was able to relax between each contraction. My husband beat us to the hospital and was there waiting when we got there. He wanted to put me in a wheel chair but being the stubborn woman I am, I refused. After all I needed to be able to talk to the people at the desk to get checked in! The man at the dest felt it necessary to explain that I was not 20 weeks so I would have to wait in the er to see the doctors. I always felt like this is the stupidest regulation, but I just said, "I know I was here Thursday!" I waited in the ER for about 10 minutes before they got me back. Sitting there all I could focus on was the floor and it looked like it was breathing!

When the nurse came and got me they did not put me through all the protocol questions they had the other day, but just sat me down and took my vitals. It was at this point we realized my fever was up (100.8) and something else besides labor was going on. My blood pressure was elevated because of the pain and all I wanted was a blanket and a bed... some mega pain meds would have been nice too, but those I would wait hours for!

In the next few hours I went through a myriad of blood work and IV pokes. I was freezing, but they would not let me cover up because my fever was climbing really fast I believe it was up over 103 pretty quick. I had to go to the bathroom really bad but did not want to tell them because I was terrified of delivering my baby in the toilet. The nurses said they needed to get a urine sample but needed to place a catheter to get it. Several nurses tried to get urine and said I must not have a full enough bladder because they could not "collect". I had four different doctors and nurses try to place a catheter several different times each to no avail. By the time the last nurse came in I was even more uncomfortable and wanted to cry. I prayed and asked God to help her and instantly felt the need to sing to take me to a different place mentally. The song that I sang was My Lord Knows the Way Through the Wilderness. I had no idea what was to come or what these words would mean to me, but I started singing... "My Lord knows the way through the wilderness, all I have to do is follow. My Lord knows the way through the wilderness, all I have to do is follow. STRENGTH for today is mine all the way and ALL that I need for tomorrow. My Lord knows the way through the wilderness, all I have to do is FOLLOW." by the time I finished singing everyone in the room had joined me and the nurse had placed the catheter. The next few hours grow very fuzzy for me. I don't remember much of it, but I do remember going in for a sonogram. I remember trying to focus on the screen, but not being able to. The tech was not talking so I asked my husband and mom to tell me if the baby was okay. Other than knowing he was alive I do not remember anything else about the sonogram or even the doctor coming in afterwards. My family tells me that the doctor said the baby was still very strong and not showing any sign of distress. That nothing had changed from 4 days earlier when they told me he would die. I was moved up to the ob floor and put in a room where I would stay for the next several days. This room was ironically the same room I was placed in for a week when I was having complications with my first pregnancy. Never would I have dreamed a hospital room would feel like sacred ground, but the circumstances that happened in that room would prove to be very sacred! I settled in and continued to contract very regularly. It is such a frustrating feeling to know that because I was not 20 weeks yet the doctors would not even attempt to stop my labor. I was finally hooked up to a morphine pump that I had control of a button to push but it only worked every 8 minutes and I wanted it about every 2! Even though I was in horrible pain and had a really high fever I tried to focus on enjoying labor. I knew that if the contractions did not stop I would deliver my baby and I wanted to soak in every minute of the experience. I was super aware of everything and everyone around me. I was continuously worried about how this experience would effect the people in the room and the rest of my friends and family. I remember instructing my husband on how to answer texts from different people because I knew they were alone at work or school and I did not want them upset. I remember thinking about my friends that were pregnant and worrying that this would change the way they shared their excitement with me. More than anything I remember the feeling that I was not alone, that every single one of my friends and family would hurt with me and that made it even more important to live in the moment and soak in every single bit I could.

As the time passed the doctors said several times over that they did not think I would contract hard enough to deliver my baby. That it is just not common to have a 14 week delivery. I however had no doubt in my mind that before that night was over I WOULD hold my baby. I remember being very firm and assertive with the nurses and doctors that I wanted to hold my baby. I expressed the fear that they would try to just throw him away and tried to be very clear that I wanted to hold him. I remember singing over and over... My Lord Knows the Way through the Wilderness. I remember begging God to stop labor, and then sometime around 5:15pm with a major contraction my water broke. This was the most devastating moment I have ever been through. That moment that took all hope away. That moment screamed there was nothing I could do to keep my body from killing my baby. In that moment God allowed my contractions to stop and gave us time to grieve that moment. After a couple minutes I turned to the nurse and said she needed to get the pitocin because I needed my contractions to come back. Again the docs really did not think I would go any further. As she turned and left the room I remember looking up at the ceiling and saying "God, I want my contractions back!" Before the nurse got back to the room I had started contracting again... and I was so thankful! Around 5:35 I told the doctor I felt like I needed to push and they checked me. I had dilated to TEN, something they had said was almost impossible. The doctor looked at me and with so much sadness and compassion she said "I am so sorry, but you are right it is time to push" I pushed a couple times and felt the baby move as he was coming through the birth canal and by 5:40 he was here. She handed me my baby like he was a beautiful full term healthy baby, but I knew he was dead. He was in a blue towel no bigger than a washcloth. She apologized again as she handed him to me. I accepted him just as I had done my other three children. At that moment he was my pride and joy. My heart swelled with love. It did not matter that he was dead. I put my hands on his body and kissed his head. I counted his fingers and toes and sat in awe of his perfection. His skin was so transparent that you could see his heart (about the size of a quarter), that was such an amazing thing to see. I remember thanking God for how straight his feet were. We had prayed for our baby to have straight feet and God answered that prayer! In the three hours that we held him I could not imagine my life any other way. He was perfect he weighed in at 1.48 ounces and was 4.92 inches long. His feet measured 1.4cm in length and his head circumference was 3.7 inches. His chest measured 3.03 inches. He had TEN perfect fingers and TEN perfect toes and the tiniest ears. He had the same little divot in the end of his nose as his older brother. His jawline and lips even showed close resemblance. He was PRECIOUS!

Gabriel Michaels foot prints:

 A size comparison of Gabriel Michel's and my first baby, Desiree's foot prints. Same exact size paper... he was perfectly tiny!

We passed him around the room and everyone got to spend time with him and love him. I told him how much I loved him, I sang to him and kissed on him and then the time came to let him go. I asked my mom and Sandi to sing the song New 23rd (Psalms 23)  which they did. I handed Gabriel to my husband and he walked with the nurse to the nursery.

God's grace was so amazing through these moments. I felt sadness and devastation, but not destruction. I knew that this was not the last time I would see him, but that there will be a reunion in heaven some day! I felt so privileged to have held a little piece of heaven. An experience that 4 days before the er doctor tried to convince me was impossible!

As much as I would like to say this is the end of or journey.... it was not. We still had the fever issue to address which I will do in a later post.