the magnusons

On Thursday, February 28, I had my 37-week check-up with Bernadette, my midwife. It was my first afternoon appointment; so far, I had managed to schedule all of my appointments in the morning, and it was actually pretty fun to take Helene with me to them. Every time she would play with the scale, try to touch every trash can, push the rolly chair around, and then listen to our baby’s heartbeat with me. But having an afternoon appointment made things slightly more difficult, because I didn’t want to interfere with her naptime. So I lined up my dear friend Leigh Ann to come keep Helene for me while I went for my “quick” check-up. Of course Helene ended up waking up right when Leigh Ann got there, but Leigh Ann still wanted to keep her for me so I told them both good-bye and “see you in an hour at the most.”

Since I was only 37 weeks along, I really wasn’t even thinking about labor yet, and I was fully convinced that I had at least 2 more weeks before delivering. I was getting more and more excited about the idea of having a waterbirth at the birth center in Pearland (Rite of Passage). Scott had gone with me to my appointment the week before, so he could meet Bernadette and just be acquainted with the place (and so we could pick our birthing room.) The reason I had decided to go the birth center route this time is that Helene’s birth went so smoothly (delivered by a midwife, but in a hospital), and we no longer had maternity coverage on our insurance so we were looking to avoid any hospital expenses. I was a great candidate for a birth center birth after my first pregnancy and delivery, and so far my second pregnancy was just as smooth.

This particular appointment was a little more hectic than usual, because Bernadette had one woman laboring in one of the birthing rooms while she was trying to also see me and at least one other patient. Looking back, I am amazed at the amount of time Bernadette spent with me under the circumstances. Everything about my check-up was normal until she started listening to the baby’s heartbeat and discovered that it was highly irregular. She listened for several minutes, with no change. So she took me to her very low-tech ultrasound machine, which wasn’t great for pictures, but was better than a Doppler at detecting and measuring the heartbeat. And we listened that way for the next hour at least, with no significant change. It wasn’t long before Bernadette and Lisa, her front-office person, were on the phone with 2 of the high-risk doctors that Bernadette consults with and refers people to for issues beyond her scope. Both doctors were very busy (of course) and weren’t returning the calls.

Meanwhile, I was getting more and more upset. It was one of those times when I knew without a doubt what was about to happen to me, even though no one had said it out loud yet. Bernadette was considering sending me straight to the hospital (in Clear Lake) and having Dr. Rowe meet me there. I was pleading with her not to do that. I was (and am) terrified of going to the hospital by myself. I was shaking and crying out of fear and anger at what was going on. I kept trying to tell myself that they wouldn’t really take my baby out, but I knew I was lying. I was begging Bernadette to just let me go home, telling her that everything had been fine up until now, and I didn’t think anything had changed based on how the baby felt inside me, movement and all that. I was crying and she was crying, telling me that she couldn’t possibly let me leave and take the chance that my baby might die that night. (Bernadette was also pregnant at the time, making her especially sensitive to what was going on.)

Finally, someone from Dr. Rowe’s office told Bernadette to send me there and he would see me. Still, no one had said what was most likely going to happen. It was like the elephant in the room that no one would acknowledge. I was such a mess that Bernadette and Lisa were worried about me driving by myself all the way to Clear Lake Regional, and they were also concerned that I would simply drive myself home (which I very likely would have done.) Since Bernadette was about to deliver a baby, Lisa drove me to Dr. Rowe’s office. Before we left, I called Scott and told him to go home to relieve Leigh Ann. This was my biggest mistake. I should have told him to drive straight to Dr. Rowe’s office, or to the hospital, which was where I knew I would end up. But I was more worried about being inconsiderate to Leigh Ann; she had only expected to keep Helene for an hour, and it had already been 2 and a half.

We got to Dr. Rowe’s office around 4:45, which meant his staff was not exactly thrilled to see me. They were very rude to Lisa and me, especially considering how I looked (red and splotchy and 9 months pregnant.) We had to wait about 15 minutes, then the ultrasound tech called us back. She listened to the ultrasound for a few minutes, then called in Dr. Rowe, who listened for a few minutes. He then declared that my baby had “second-degree heartblock” and I was on my way to the OR. Now this is when I really let go. I lost it for a little bit, then collected myself so that I could call Scott. I told him how to get to the hospital, and that nothing else mattered except getting there as fast as he could. I also called Leigh Ann and told her to turn around and go back to our apartment immediately. Once again I was sobbing and pleading, this time with Dr. Rowe. I told him I couldn’t do it without Scott being there, I just couldn’t. I told him we HAD to wait. He told me very simply, “in these situations, we don’t wait.”

Lisa drove me to the hospital (which was across the street), and on the way there I called a dear friend and asked her to pray very hard for me and for Scott. I was so worried about Scott rushing to get to me in rush hour traffic. It would have taken 30 minutes to get from our apartment to the hospital with absolutely no traffic, and here it was 5:30. I knew he wouldn’t make it, and I was more upset thinking about how upset he must be. I was also upset because I wasn’t prepared to be away from Helene for so long, and neither was she. I was terrified of the surgery itself. And I was so, so sad that I wasn’t going to deliver my baby.

I basically cried during the entire preparation for surgery. I just cried and moaned, basically the same way a 2 or 3 year-old does when they don’t get their way (at least that’s how Helene does it.) Luckily the prep took some time, so I was able to pretty much wear myself out with crying. When I had nothing left, I started praying (finally!) I was claiming Joshua 1:9 over and over again (same verse I claimed during natural childbirth, although it was for different reasons this time). I was basically just trying to look at Christ and nothing else, because everything else was too scary. All the forms, all the questions, all the people, and I hadn’t even made it to the OR yet! I was so thankful that Lisa was there with me to hold my hand and speak reassuring words to me. Looking back, I am amazed at how calm she remained the entire time. At the time, all I could think was how upset I was that Scott wasn’t there, but now I realize that it would have been so much worse had I been completely alone. I had developed a friendly relationship with Lisa over the 8 months of my prenatal care, and having her with me was truly a blessing.

Being wheeled into the OR was sort of surreal for me…when I think back it feels like a dream. I had never had any sort of procedure with so many people in the room. There must have been 10! And it was so cold. I was very thankful to have gotten over my hysterics already, since I needed to be still for the epidural (another thing I was terrified of). Once that was over with I felt a teensy bit better, or at least more calm. Of course, the praying also had a lot to do with the calmness. I was still upset over being naked and immobile in front of so many people, and of course I was still in disbelief over what was happening to me. Everyone that knows me knows that I can’t even talk about a c-section (or an epidural for that matter) without getting squirmy and nervous in my stomach. I still can’t believe it happened to me.

The surgery itself went smoothly I suppose. I felt like an eternity, but it was actually only five minutes from the time they cut me open to the time they pulled out my second-born, another beautiful daughter, my precious Anna Lacie, born at 6:37 pm. I didn’t get to see her right away, they cleaned her up and checked her out and about a minute after she was born Scott walked in. He glanced at Anna on his way in, but of course walked straight to me, his number one girl, to give me his strong hand to hold. I did not enjoy the first part of the c-section one bit, which involved 2 nurses pushing on my stomach with all their strength to get Anna to come down. I felt so much pulling and pushing and tugging, and it all felt so grossly unnatural since I was also numb from the epidural, so the whole thing was just very disconcerting to me. (I really felt like throwing up for a lot of it.) The “putting me back together” part was just as bad (or worse), so I was so happy to have Scott there with me. He held Anna briefly and brought her close to my face, then they took her to the NICU to monitor her.

I cried some more with Scott, told him how fearful I still felt, and how sorry I was that he missed it. He did such an amazing job comforting me. In my first recovery room we called our parents and my sister, Melanie, and told them the news. It was so hard for me that none of them could come right away to see us. I felt so needy for comfort and assurance. Then my friend Lindsay came to see me, and she cried with me, and I just felt so loved and cared for and blessed. It meant so incredibly much to me that she drove all the way to Clear Lake on a weeknight, with 2 children at home, just to make sure I was okay. That was the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me, a completely selfless display of love.

Anna spent the night in the NICU, and Scott went to see her one time. While he was gone I started to get really fearful again, this time worrying that there might actually be something really wrong with Anna’s heart. I started praying desperately to God, asking Him to spare her the need for any surgeries or anything. I told God that I would take all the pain in the world, but I didn’t want my baby to have to go through any. I told Him I would gladly go through the fire to spare my child. As I was praying I felt a peace and I felt like God told me, “you already did.” This was a moment I looked back on countless times over the next weeks and months as I recovered from everything that happened. Fear was a constant enemy for me, especially when I was trying to go to sleep at night, and the emotions of that day would flood my mind. But God was faithful through it all. He saw me through the fire, and He saw me through the valley over the next several months. Praise God that our baby girl was pronounced healthy less than 24 hours after she was delivered by emergency c-section. Praise God that I reached a new level of dependence on Him and trust in His sovereignty. God is good. All the time.