Shasta's Arrival/Easter Comparison

This Easter weekend has given me an experience that I feel relates to the Savior in a small way. Maybe it’s a stretch, and I shouldn’t be comparing my little moment to something so sacred, but it has made me feel closer to my Savior and, in a very small way, I feel I have something in common with Him. I’ll make the comparison at the end so you’re welcome to read the back story and skip the comparison if you feel it may be sacrilegious in some way. Disclaimer: this post will be long!

I woke up Friday morning and got ready for my 32 week appointment with my doctor. My morning started off slightly better than most. My legs were still a little swollen and my eyes were puffy and dry, but nothing too alarming. It felt a little like the aftermath of crying myself to sleep, but I didn’t shed any tears the night before so it was odd to me that my eyes were swollen. It’s happened before though, so I didn’t think much of it.

On the way to my appointment, Nick and I talked about our plans for the day; where we were going to go eat (which was the most important to me), how to buy stuff to make up Easter Baskets for each other, getting caught up on homework, and me, off to work for a short Friday shift. (Nick didn’t have to work because of the holiday). Unfortunately, once we got to the doctor’s office, all of those plans went out the window.

It started off as a typical appointment. They took my heart rate, weight, a urine sample and then I waited to see my doctor. When he came in, he talked to me about my urine sample, and how there was an alarming amount of protein in it. That bought me a ticket to the second floor to experience a catheter for a better urine sample and some monitoring. The high amount of protein in my urine was an indicator that I had preeclampsia, so they needed to do more thorough testing to make sure. He said it was possible I could have a baby anywhere from sometime that day to three weeks from then, but he seemed certain I wouldn’t last longer than that.

I woke up feeling perfectly normal. I went to my appointment feeling perfectly normal. I listened to what my doctor had to say feeling perfectly normal. Nothing he had to say was alarming to me because I felt perfectly normal.

“I could have a baby today? He must have fallen out of bed this morning and bumped his head. Clearly he’s gone crazy! I feel just fine. They’ll take the sample and send me home. It’s just precautionary. There was nothing to worry about.” That’s where my mindset was. I even asked him about the last 4 appointments before my due date, and what to expect from them, and if it was safe to go bowling. Little did I know I wouldn’t be making it to those last 4 appointments, and wouldn’t have a chance to go bowling while pregnant. I didn’t understand the seriousness of what I was facing and couldn’t wrap my head around the idea that something could be wrong. I felt like I was being told I was sick when I felt fine.

With that in mind it was off to the ever so dreaded walk to the elevator that took me to the 2nd floor where I knew my biggest concerns were about to be realized with no time to prepare… showing my goods; feeling exposed and vulnerable with no control over what was going to happen. We stood in line for what felt like forever waiting our turn to be checked in. The longer I waited, the shakier and more nervous I got, thinking about what was to come. I was very grateful to have Nick with me. I wasn’t sure what he was thinking. Did he realize the seriousness of what was happening? Was he concerned at all? I had no idea, and frankly, I didn’t want to know, because hearing it from him would for sure send me over the edge, and I wasn’t going to cry.

Finally, we were checked into a room, I was changed into a gown, my blood was drawn, and my blood pressure checked. Unfortunately, my blood pressure was incredibly high, alarmingly so. I was certain it was anxiety. What I thought was a perfectly normal day was thrown completely out of whack with ideas like C-section, NICU, a hospital transfer to Ogden, an ambulance ride, and my doctor leaving out of town for the holiday weekend, thrown my direction. It was bound to cause a little anxiety. I’m a nervous person anyway, and the slightest change, or having to do something unexpected, especially if I’ve never done it before; instantly makes my heart race, my legs shake, my face twitch and my body perspire. I’m just lucky like that I guess! So, my blood pressure was high, but in my opinion it was to be expected. Plus the worst was still to come…exposed goods and a catheter. How would anyone expect me to relax with those cards still in play?!

I think in retrospect, anxiety actually helped me by allowing me not to feel any pain. The catheter was nothing. Unfortunately, she didn’t get a big enough sample, so they had to give me an IV and do it again. They checked my blood pressure every 10 minutes, and it was still too high; so they gave me a steroid shot for the baby which, other than the pinch of the needle, didn’t hurt at all. Also, the monitor was showing fairly regular contractions that I had no idea I was having. After a few hours, my blood pressure was still too high for their liking, so they gave me a shot in my IV to bring it down. They said most people don’t like how the shot affects them. People feel groggy, disoriented, and get somewhat flu-like symptoms. I didn’t feel any of those things. For once, anxiety worked out to be a good thing!

Around 3 in the afternoon, they decided they were going to keep me over night to monitor me, and collect my urine for the next 24 hours to better confirm the results of the catheter test, even though they wouldn’t know the results until the next morning.

I decided it was better not to tell our families. There wasn’t anything to tell. We didn’t know anything, and there wasn’t anything they could do, so there wasn’t a reason to alarm them. My nerves were shot, my emotions were on edge, and the last thing I wanted was to have visitors, or be bombarded with a million questions that I didn’t know the answers to, or didn’t want to answer. I needed to do what was best for me, even if it meant hurting feelings which was very possible.

My secret didn’t stay a secret for very long. The on-call doctor asked if I had any sisters and if any of them had preeclampsia. I had no idea. I sent my sister a text asking her if she knew, which of course raised questions, so I vaguely told her what was going on with as little detail as possible. But in the texting conversation, those little details eventually came out. She eventually convinced me to tell my mom which I was completely against doing. My mom tends to jump to extreme measures. She worries about everything and doesn’t always filter the thoughts that go through her head. Plus I knew talking to her would probably surface those emotions that I was trying so hard to hide. Moms have that affect on their daughters. There should be a rule that any daughter with a pregnancy scare shouldn’t be allowed to call her mom if she doesn’t want to cry! Eventually I figured it wouldn’t hurt to call my mom. It wasn’t like she could show up at the hospital. She’s 800 miles away for crying out loud. Plus, she needs more time to prepare than Nick’s family does in case something tragic happened and she needed to get here fast.

The downside to telling my mom meant the whole family would know. And not just my dad and siblings; I wouldn’t be surprised if all of my extended family knew before the night was over. I felt bad knowing my whole family knew and the only reason one person in Nick’s family knew was because we needed someone to watch Wedge for us over night. I tried to talk him into asking one of our Home Teachers, but he insisted on letting his sister watch the puppy. It wasn’t a big deal to me who took Wedge for the night as long as our news didn’t circle. It may sound silly to not want them to know, but the best support they could give me was to allow me my space and the only way I could control that was by not saying anything. Maybe it was wrong of me, but looking back I still don’t feel bad about it.

Saturday morning, the on-call doctor informed me that I’m a high risk pregnancy, and they wanted to monitor me another day and see where I’m at. Once the second steroid shot worked its magic, they would decide if they need to take the baby. If they decided to let her cook longer, then chances were they wouldn’t be sending me home until I had the baby. Hearing that made me decide it was time to tell Nick’s family. Later that day, Nick finally talked to his mom. He stepped outside because a nurse came in and didn’t come back until he was off the phone. He had clearly gotten emotional while talking to his mom, which in turn made me lose control of my emotions. I just started sobbing with no real reason other than seeing that he had cried. I only cried for 5, maybe 10 minutes before I pulled it back together, but it was enough to make my eyes dry and itchy. I told him that’s why his family couldn’t come visit. My blood pressure was high and I didn’t need any added stress or emotional outbursts. It was just better that way.

We had planned on having Easter dinner with Nick’s parents and sister at his sister’s house. Since that was no longer the plan for me, Nick went ahead and still ate with them and then brought them to the hospital for a short visit after. Because of it being Easter weekend, we had a hard time trying to decide who to bother about helping Nick give me a blessing, so it worked out nicely that his dad and brother in law could participate when they came to visit. They didn’t visit for very long, probably not even an hour, but it was nice having them here. I held it together until it came time for the blessing. Blessings always make me emotional. And I would have done fine in the blessing too, but Nick choked back a sob and it was all downhill from there!

A couple hours after Nick’s family left, the on-call doctor came in to tell me that since my blood pressure had been consistently high all afternoon, it was time to go ahead and induce labor. The only way for me to have a vaginal birth was to get the baby out before she went into distress. As long as my blood pressure stayed high and continued to climb it would cause more stress for the baby so they needed to induce labor before that happened. At 9pm they put me on magnesium and Pitocin and whatever other drug they felt I needed to get things going. The magnesium really wiped me out, but other than that, I was doing good. I couldn’t feel any of the contractions or anything. At one point, the nurse told me to act like a normal mother in labor and feel contractions already!

Around 2am they decided it was time to break my water. I was definitely nervous about that! But they felt it was a good time to do it since there was a doctor available that just delivered a baby in the room next to mine (which by the way, she missed the window to get an epidural so I got to listen to her scream the whole time. Good times!) So the doctor broke my water. He said I was only dilated to a 1 and about 90% effaced. That was discouraging.

My timeline isn’t exact since I was pretty out of it, but somewhere around 5:30 in the morning the nurse said she wanted to put an internal monitor in me to see how strong the contractions were. She showed me how it would work. It was just a little tube that slid up and would rest right next to the baby’s head, but they would be able to monitor my contractions better. Once she inserted the tube she tried to get my baby back on the monitor, but was concerned about what she was hearing. I was pretty out of it with all the magnesium in my system, so I didn’t really know how serious it was. She had me roll to one side to see if she could find the heartbeat, then to the other. She got the doctor on the phone and very calmly told me we needed to do a c-section and get this baby out.

I heard what she said, but didn’t want to think about it. I knew if I thought too hard I would start freaking out. I don’t recall what thoughts were going through my mind, I just remember being calm and trusting everyone around me to do what they needed to do to keep me and my little girl safe. There were several nurses in my room moving at high speed and I just laid on my side, lost in pointless thought, while they worked their magic around me. It wasn’t until they got my bed out of the room and started running to the operating room that I started to feel a pinch of nervousness. ‘We’re running, this is something you only see in movies!’ But still, I was calm. In fact, once we were in the surgery room, a different nurse came over to hold an oxygen mask to my face, and she’s someone I know personally, so it was nice to see a familiar face. I wanted to ask her how she was doing, but the oxygen mask kind of kept me from having any conversations! I asked her if my husband was in the room since I couldn’t see behind me, but I was informed he wouldn’t get to come in because they had to put me under. At that point I hadn’t had an epidural so they had to take Shasta out the old fashioned way by sedating me for pain.

The last thing I remember was the doctor walking in. I didn’t even see him, I just remember them saying he was there and then I was gone. Next thing I knew I was awake and in a lot of pain. They put a clicker in my hand to give myself doses of medicine as I felt I needed, for me to be in control. All I heard was “pain medicine, push this button” and pushed it over and over again. I was pretty sure it was broken! There’s a limit to how much you can actually give yourself which I didn’t know, all I knew was a nurse kept rubbing my stomach and the button they gave me for relief wasn’t helping.

They kept me on magnesium the whole day, so all of Monday I was in and out of consciousness. I could hardly keep my eyes open while I was awake and didn’t have total control of my motor skills and limbs. Monday is pretty much a blur to me. I don’t remember hardly anything and it’s been hard to make the connection of what day of the week it actually is because I feel I lost a day in there. I didn’t get to go down and see my baby in the NICU until Tuesday afternoon and even then they only let me stay for about 15 minutes because my blood pressure has been consistently high. It hasn’t been as high as it was, but still higher than it should be. They let me hold her though which I wasn’t expecting, and as soon as they started to hand her to me, I burst into tears. I love her so much! She is so precious and I can’t wait to get to show her off!

Here comes the comparison.

I was admitted into the hospital on Good Friday. I was only allowed a liquid diet which is basically like fasting. My last supper consisted of half a poptart chased down by a prilosec and water. Okay fine, I’ll admit I also ate a king size Hershey’s bar that Nick surprised me with when he got home from school that morning! But still the last time I ate anything with sustenance was at 10 that morning.

Friday night I couldn’t sleep. I was so tired, but sleep just wouldn’t come. Instead I laid in bed and thought while Nick slept so peacefully on the couch next to me. I couldn’t turn my mind off. I thought about everything there was to think about, not just my current situation, but all things. My mind was racing. I felt like I was in constant prayer, but afraid to pray too hard for fear I would lose control of my emotions and I didn’t want that.

I’ve been poked and prodded, exposed and vulnerable, examined and violated. I walked a very lonely path of concern and uncertainty. I haven’t been able to fully wrap my head around the seriousness of the situation. All I can think is how it’s in the Lord’s hands and how much I wish I knew what the long term outcome was going to be.

Then finally Sunday came. They induced my labor and I knew the time had come for my little girl to be separated from me. As they strapped me to the operating table they literally had my arms stretched out to my sides as if I had been hung on a cross. At that moment all I could think about was my Savior. Everything was in his hands. Just as He rose from the tomb, my baby left my womb. The timeline of these events worked out almost exactly the same as they did for Christ. Although what I went through doesn’t even compare to what my Savior did for me, in a small way I felt what He felt. I believe that this experience happened the way it did for a reason.

I’m grateful for my Savior and the sacrifice he made for me. I’ve never been more grateful for the atonement than I am right now. I know everything will be okay. I’m not sure what the Lord’s will is, but I trust Him and I will accept whatever He feels is best for my family. I know this baby will be okay and if for some reason she isn’t and the Lord decides to take her back then eventually Nick and I will be okay. I’ve never been more grateful for the Temple and for eternal families. I’m grateful the Lord trusts me with this unexpected trial and knows that I’m strong enough to handle it. I know there’s nothing He’ll put on my path that I can’t overcome, but I’m definitely grateful to have Nick through all of this. There isn’t anyone I would rather go through this with than him. He’s what makes it better. He’s so level headed and strong and I’m grateful he holds the priesthood and brings that blessing into our lives.