Hope Out of Despair #2

Grab a drink and get ready to read....

Straight after our last baby, Mr E, was born and eventually came home, I was adamant I would not have any more children.

During my labour I was informed that "you better stop having babies, your babies keep coming earlier and earlier!!!"

I accepted that was true, it was afterall a fact, and I definitely didnt want to do an earlier one next time round.

So I gave all I had away.

All my baby gear apart from my biggest stuff, as I no longer needed it, I gifted it off. All my clothes, as he grew out of them, gifted.  Everything.

Then, a little over a year ago, I felt completely undone. My heart was breaking and I couldnt understand why.

After some soul searching I realised that suddenly my mind was allowing me to feel the grief of the season we had been through.

And I felt like I was falling apart.

And so it was, allowing myself to feel the pain so that I could be healed, overcome it and be made whole.

And I went through so many emotions.

I would feel angry that other people "got it easy" and took their beautiful full term, just born babies home. Full of joy and celebration.  While I got ripped off, had to fight, and home-coming is agonising hard work (more than a regular newborn - which I have had once).

I felt undone and deep regret that I had been overcome with exhaustion at my newly home baby boys and vented my frustration at them in the night... they cried nearly all night long for weeks on end.

I felt pain at the sheer circumstaces surrounding their births, the loss of control and the inability to do things with for my baby that every mother has a right to do.

I was angry that my babies were almost taken away from me.

I faced the fact that twice my life was on the line.

It was NEVER meant to be like this.

Just deep deep pain. Heart ripped open. And bleeding. And tears. Lots of tears.

At the same time, I felt greatful. Almost guilty for feeling grief.

I was greatful for my life (in a new way)!

I was greatful for the lives of my two sons, one of whom should absolutely not be alive today.

I was greatful for the miracle of a beautiful, healthy child. No long term effects, just perfection.

I was greatful for the people I met, the connections I made, the hospitals, free medical care, midwives, doctors, nurses and teams who so lovingly cared for us and helped to save us.

Not everyone gets the 'happy ending' to their story.

I was greatful for our friends and family, and church family, who did more for us than I could ever say.

So, in the midst of that mess I had to let God come and heal my heart. I had to process my emotions and thoughts.

Its funny how you often think youve dealt with something fully and then suddenly your heart is ripped open and you realise that, no, the pain is there buried deep.

I thinks its so we are not overwhelmed by it- if it all came at once we surely couldnt cope.

Anyway, that was the start of this journey of hope. Agonising hurt. Raw pain.

But I let people in. My nearest and dearest knew my agony.

 I asked people to pray for me, and slowly the agony subsided.

Then I had a dream.

The dream was quite symbolic. I had chosen a 99.9% effective form of contraception mostly because I was terrified of pregnancy.

It went wrong in my body.

The dream was about me getting it out. I knew I needed to get it out.

So then began fear.

Fear is UGLY.

And I was terrified of pregnancy. I was terrified of a repeat or worse of what we'd had. All the what ifs came baring down.

I booked to have it removed and I had a month.

I cried EVERYDAY.

Why?

Well, I couldnt decide whether to make our three kids a permanent three. And time was ticking.

I ended up seeing my GP amd through tears asking how you "know" when you're finished having kids.

She graciously told me that I clearly wasnt ready to decide.

And we talked babies. We talked how my two premmie situations were freak events. We talked how they dont usually repeat themselves. 

And I had a glimpse of hope.

Over the course of time I started to daydream about holding one more baby of my own. About what I would call her/him (mostly her) and how she would look.

I thought of the implications of four. I weighed it up. But I couldnt get it out of my heart.

Meanwhile Dave was in a similar place. Fear, asking questions, yet longing for another.

A couple of months passed. Armed with a couple of dreams, several scriptures and a few support networks, we decided we would try.

We werent used to this baby business taking time....

And it took time.

I was obsessed. I couldnt get this baby out of my head.

I imagined I was pregnant. I had all kinds if very convincing symptoms. I was jealous of people pregnant. Jealous of people pregnant with their fourth! Not in a terrible jealousy way. I just longed. I took test after test. Nothing.

I got a glimpse of the journey of others, in a very, very tiny way. And had more compassion for them.

And I was sick.

I got diagnosed as underactive thyroid. Seriously under active. I had all the symptoms and now my blood showed it.

I told the doctor I wouldnt take medication. (Im not anti medication - this time Iit was just a real conviction I had).

After everything we had been through with hospitals and medicine, I had some promises that this was no longer my story, it was my history. And so I decided I would fight it.

The doctors said "your hormones are all affected. Fertility is affected. Without medication you probably wont conceive." Even then chances of miscarriage were high. I dont need to go through that again.

That day I surrendered my dream of a fourth child. I couldnt live obsessed. I needed to be well.

I also said "Im not having this. This is not my life. This is not happening to me." I was devastated and worried, yet determined to try to overcome without medication.

I researched a tonne. I changed my diet and dramatically shifted both my intake and schedule of coffee drinking. I used essential oils sparingly to try to aid normal hormone levels. I took a thyroid supplement.

I realised I had complete adrenal fatigue. I made the necessary changes to my stress levels and lifestyle. Treat fatigue, treat the thyroid.

I started to feel better!! I got my life back!

Four weeks later, I was pregnant! Pregnant!?!?! What!?

I had repeat bloods a few weeks after and was told....

"You are still slightly underactive. The specialist recommends medication as underactive thyroid can affect the baby... cause mental retardation, premature birth....." and the rest conprised a list of nearly every circumstance surrounding Mr E's birth.

Suddenly. Fear. Ugly fear.

I didnt want to be responsible for a child having long term effects because of my irresponsibility. Yet, ive been given a miracle when it was meant to be impossible.

Enter Soul searching. Heart searching. Prayer. Lots of talking. Dave and I decided to wait a week and get a repeat test. Pray for a miracle. To not act out of fear.

I rang the doctor and decided id get a second opinion from my usual GP. I asked for the thyroid numbers.

I discovered they had improved so much that they were near normal again.

I went to see my other doc, who was amazed at the results and very interested to hear what changes I had made. She agreed to repeat bloods.

The result, NORMAL. yes, NORMAL!!!!

So now Im being monitored. But not needing medicine.

I aslo discovered Id had glandular fever. No wonder I felt like a depressed, no energy or motivation, train wreck everyday.

So here I am, no longer a hypothyroid (thanks be to God), and a 16 week pregnant mama, my fourth on its way.

Taken from complete despair and brokenness, to complete hope, courage to risk again and face turning our dream into a reality. Now awaiting the arrival of this precious one. 100% confident that EVERYTHING will be ok.

In fact this time, Im believing for a full term, beautiful, healthy baby and a great story.

im confident all will be well no matter what.

Its my turn.

And it can be your turn too. Your turn to hope again and risk again.

More next time xxx

6 weeks too early, not a day late...

I know this post has been well awaited, and it's going to be well read.  Before I begin - I will add a disclaimer -

much of this is very difficult for me to show in a public arena, and to "talk" about.  This post will probably be long, but I'm keeping with who I am in being honest and real.  There are pictures - they are not all nice to look at.

Welcome - Aiden Harris.  Who arrived to our family - on 3 July 2011.  6 and a bit weeks before his due date.

What can I say - but I knew it.  I knew he was going to come early.  I just didn't quite expect the journey to follow.

Most of those who know me, know I LOATHE being pregnant.  I could honestly quite happily skip that stage and go from not pregnant to the day after delivery quite happily.  So when I woke up on that Sunday with some dull ache, and then contractions arrived - I was just a wee bit excited.

I shrugged it off - because over the 3 or so weeks prior, I had multiple false alarms.  I was hospitalised 2 weeks earlier with "labouring" contractions - that slowly eased off overnight.  So I knew that each day counted as one step closer to home.

The labour - well, it was amazing.  Very different from my first experience.  I was very relaxed and quite enjoyed just breathing through the process.  I left church a bit early because I was uncomfortable.  Thinking I was going to be in hospital for the night again - I grabbed pjs and a few other things.  I threw in a feeding bra "just in case".

I was not afraid, but was chewing back on steroids every 15 minutes and being jabbed all over.  You see, they were trying to stop my wee boy from coming quite so soon.  Things continued to progress and my midwife decided to bring me in some gas.  I quite enjoyed that experience too.  It was all a bit blase because I wasn't supposed to be having this baby, but I started to think "gee, if I don't have him today - this is going to suck - I'd have to do labour twice for ONE baby!!"

I was given the "last resort" pill, which either stops your labour or you are declared full blown.  It was a bit late - I was full blown.  A short time later I told my midwife that "I'd be ready to push soon".  She checked and I was nearly fully dialated.  After this, I don't remember much.  Apart from that I was begging them to break my waters.  Other than that after about 10 minutes the alarm was pressed, the paediatricians rushed in the room and my son was born.  He was promptly removed and given some oxygen to "pink" him up a bit.

I was given a 5 second glimpse at him wrapped in a towel, and then he was transferred to the Special Care Baby Unit (SCBU) because he was labouring a bit with his breathing.

My established labour was less than 2 hours.  I was happily breathing through it all and texting my friends at 12.50pm.  I gave birth at 2.30pm.

I was in shock for about 3 hours.  I couldn't believe I had just had him.  I hardly got to see him - it all felt a bit strange.  I finally showered and gathered my things, then went to see him.

He was the cutest wee thing ever.

Day one he was doing quite well.  We all were.

Then came Monday.  The Doctors then told me that he had developed a "condition".  Basically, the short is - Aiden's body was delayed in converting from using the placenta for oxygen to using his lungs for the circulation he needed.  No visitors, and I wasn't allowed to touch or talk to him for at least the next 24 hours.  I still hadn't even held him.


Some of our darkest moments...

The gadgets above are as follows:

• oxygen + air in his nose - keeping lungs inflated and providing extra oxygen to enable his body to get enough for circulation
• aspirate tube down throat into tummy - to enable them to suck out mucous and remove breast milk to check for digestion
• wires on chest/tummy - recording heart rate, oxygen levels and breathing rate
• IV line in his arm - for fluids and later, for fluids with "extra calories"
• 2 x wires in umbilical cord - 1 for monitoring blood pressure and taking blood. The other to "feed" him with (among other things).
• wire on foot - measuring oxgen saturation levels

They did consider transferring him to Auckland via helicopter.  They were seriously concerned about his health.  They didn't relay to me quite how bad it was until he was 'well' (about 10 days later).


Not only did he have a condition - but he couldn't tolerate any breast milk at all (so he lost a lot of weight).  On the Wednesday, he started having serious apnoeas (holding his breath for long periods).  He would do it several times in a short space.  They got even more concerned about him.  He hated any stimulation.

With his dummy ^^  the only comfort he had
He was lying on a table, vulnerable to all the elements.  Every time a doctor walked in the room, or there was a new voice, or someone got flustered - he would get distressed.  He would handle this by holding his breath again.  He would cry and grizzle and look like he was trying to leap from the table.  All the while I just had to sit there and watch him - because I wasn't allowed to hold him or hardly touch him.

To be honest, for the first week, I sat next to his bed - and cried. And silently prayed and desperately hoped and willed for him to keep fighting.

Having a break from some of the wires ^^ and loving it!


That night, finally - at midnight, the nurse decided to shift him to an incubator to try to help him handle all the noise etc.  She landed him in my arms for the first time.  I said to her through tears "am I really allowed to hold him???"

From that moment, he never held his breath again.

"Sunbathing" - being treated under the phototherapy lights for jaundice.  Wires slowly coming out.


Each day he progressed.  His tube down his mouth, turned into one down his nose.  This was to feed him.  He was far too little to know how to suck properly, so there was no hope of feeding him breast or bottle for a while yet.

He started to tolerate 1 ml of breast milk every 2 hours.  Yes, 1ml.  Slowly over a period of days that increased to 2mls, 3 mls until it was at his total of 59mls every 3 hours.

2 and a half weeks on, he started wanting to suck.  He was still very sleepy, so he'd have a short breast feed, then a tube top up, then sleep for the rest of the day and night.

I spent 3 weeks waiting for him and teaching him how to suck so he could feed.


After 12 days, I got sent home from the hospital without him.  I commuted each day to be at his side, feeding him through a tube and expressing my milk every 3 hours.  Coming home without him was absolutely heart wrenching - but my family needed me at home.

Finally, another week on, I was being called back in to the hospital to stay with him and get him ready to go home.

Then, after an episode in ED, I got readmitted onto the surgical ward for myself with severe mastitis.  I was in agony (I even thought I might of had meningitis again).  They were going to operate, but decided first to aspirate - the treatment involved needles in places no woman wants a needle.

IV antibiotics for another 5 days and apart from my baby all that time - he went back to tube feeds.

I was devastated.

Come the Monday, I was awaiting a further diagnosis from the surgeon and the "next step".

The prayers of many faithful people meant that the surgeon checked me - and it was decided I didn't need any further treatment.  I begged him not to continue the IV antibiotics but to let me go with oral ones so that I could go back to Aiden.  He agreed.

I spent the next 4 days re-teaching my sleepy boy how to breast-feed, and to wake for feeds.  Monday he had his last feed from his nasal gastric tube.  (He had been pulling it out every day for about a week).

Finally no NG tube in his nose ^^

Tuesday he was weighed. He lost 15g.  That's normal for a baby converting from tube feeds to sucking (using energy) for feeds.

The condition for our discharge was that he had to be all breast-fed and put on weight.  Thursday was the next opportunity for weigh in.  Thankfully, he succeeded in putting on weight and, after 3 and a half weeks in hospital, we came home!

My wee poppet, in his short life, has already battled death twice.

I am so greatful that God is my rock, and my keeper.  I have no other.  At one point in my labour, I was SO aware that God was there.  It was like Jesus had just literally walked in the room.  This kept me while I sat at Aiden's side - helpless, but knowing God was willing him to live more than I was.

Heading home ^^


Yes I've cried millions of tears, I've asked mega questions and I've come pretty close to the edge.  I've pleaded before God for "no more" and I've cried in my mum's arms telling her I can take no more.  It's been a rough 4 months for us.  But I can sit here and write that I know we are on the side of victory, because Victory Himself is on our side.

There is still ongoing things with him.  Aiden is well, but must be protected.  He is still little and vulerable.  So, for a while - I will be hibernating.

I am looking forward to watching his little life unfold - because I know he is destined to greatness.

For now, back to my crying baby ;-)