#30DaysofHope Day 6 - Lyssa

The birth of my sweet girl did NOT go as planned. To be honest, I truly thought I was going to have this magical birth experience. Something spiritual and otherworldly. I’d start feeling contractions in the middle of the night and wake Evan up with excitement. We would gather everything we needed to prepare. I’d hold his hand as I moved through each contraction knowing it would bring me closer to my baby. It would be a water birth. Birth affirmations would be hung over the walls, there would be twinkle lights and my favorite music playing. I’d breathe my baby out into the world in a calm, magical environment with dim lights and happy tears and celebrate the intensity and strength of a natural birth. What I got, was the exact opposite.



On September 11th we were cleaning the house/watching football and decorating for fall. I noticed late in the afternoon that I wasn’t feeling Izzy moving around as much. I took a bath and drank something sugary and she started kicking. Feeling calm and confident that she was okay I decided to go to bed.
September 12th (7.5 weeks early): I again was super busy around the house so in the afternoon I sat down and noticed that again, I wasn’t feeling her move. I did all the tricks. Took a bath, drank something sugary, drank ice water, went for a walk, I even started manipulating my belly. Nothing. She wasn’t responding. I finally begged as I pushed on my belly again and felt a tiny, soft kick. I knew that something wasn’t right so we immediately went to the hospital. We didn’t have anything ready, I didn’t bring anything for overnight clothes. We just got in the car and raced to the hospital, hopeful that it would be a scan, I’d get some fluids and we would be on our way!


Within 20 minutes of being in the hospital, I was hooked up to monitors to look at Izzy’s heart rate. She was having decelerations (not good) so we did a biophysical profile. The score is out of 8. Izzy got a 2. It was then that we heard the scariest words ever. “Your baby is not doing well, we need to get her out NOW”
After that, everything was a blur. People were running in and out of our room. Anesthesiologists were going through the procedure with me. The doctor explained the risks. I was injected with a steroid at some point and then I was being wheeled down the hall to the OR. Evan was left in the hallway while they gave me my spinal. I have literally never felt so alone in my life. All I remember is talking to Izzy. Promising her that the doctors would do everything they could to save her. Apologizing that I couldn’t keep her safe. Apologizing for failing her. Those were some of the darkest, most scary moments in my life.



Evan was finally allowed into the OR and it was go time. After a few minutes of intense pressure/pulling sensations, they announced her arrival at 7:25pm weighing 3 pounds, 11 ounces and 32 weeks and 4 days gestation.
We saw her tiny little body for only a moment and then she was taken to the other side of the room where she was given oxygen and some stimulation and we heard her soft cry. They brought her to us finally after what seemed like hours (it was only minutes) and we got to touch our sweet girl. I will never forget that moment. My entire world stopped. She was here. She was safe.
Evan got to hold her for a minute and then she was taken to the NICU. It was at that moment that my doctor came up to my head from around the drapes and said “it is important that you know, you saved your daughters life. You’re already doing a great job at motherhood” (That comment… phew… it knocked the wind out of me)



We were finally taken back to my hospital room where I had to wait for 10 hours to hold my baby for the first time. I wasn’t allowed to go to the NICU until I was able to get out of bed. I spent 10 hours forcing my legs to regain feeling. Pouring every ounce of strength into just moving/feeling my toes. As soon as I was able to get out of bed (5am), I was taken down to the NICU and do skin to skin. (Thank you to those amazing nurses who wheeled me down and let me see my girl. I know I must have been a nightmare of a patient) We ended up staying one more night in the hospital before being discharged. I think that might have been one of the hardest moments in my life. Leaving the labor and delivery floor without my baby. Watching the elevator doors close in slow motion, knowing that my baby girl was on the other side of them, hooked up to oxygen, on a feeding tube, in an incubator and fighting. And fight she did. Two weeks later, after many tears, lots of special moments, sleepless nights, countless pumping sessions and days spent in the hospital with her, Izzy was discharged and we got to take our baby home. It was the best day ever!!!



Izzy might not have been born in a water bath with twinkle lights and classic rock playing in the background. I didn’t get to experience contractions or my water breaking. She might not have left my body naturally in the calm manner I expected but she is here and she is kicking ass. I don’t know how to ever thank the nurses and doctors that played such a huge role in her arrival and her care after. They truly were lifesaving humans. We are blessed to have our baby girl. As I type this, she is in my lap. As someone who wanted so badly to have a natural birth. As someone who has felt extreme jealousy at other women carrying full term , having baby showers, maternity photos, full round bellies, experiencing contractions, getting their dream births, and then felt guilty about her jealousy. As someone who’s plan did NOT turn out. As someone who is healing and accepting it. As someone who is giving herself some extra grace. It is okay. It is okay for things to not go to plan. This is life after all and the outcome will still be beautiful in its own way.

From one NICU mama to another, have hope. Hold onto it fiercely. Have hope in your baby. Have hope in the nurses and doctors. Have hope in your futures and most importantly, have hope in yourself. You can do this, but don’t feel like you have to carry the load alone for if no one else has told you, I have your back.

Love,
Lyssa