Today’s blog is the continuation of our experience with Trey’s gastroschisis diagnosis. To read the full story click here.
It was around this time last year that we finalized the date for Trey’s delivery. I was given the option of a vaginal birth but chose a c-section. Gastroschisis is a condition where the baby’s intestines are actually on the outside of the body, requiring immediate surgery. For this reason I felt the c-section was the safest option.
Trey’s due-date was January 7th. Our first son was two weeks early, so we knew the possibilities of Trey coming earlier were great. Knowing he would need to be born in a hospital three hours away was also a factor in selecting the date. If I was to go in to labor at home I’d have to be air-lifted to Denver and that wasn’t something I wanted to risk. So we scheduled the c-section for December 20th.
Adding to my anxiety about the baby around this time, was a pretty serious situation at work. I work for a non-profit organization that had just had a difficult year. Out of nowhere my salary was cut by 50%, and believe it or not, that was actually less of a cut than some people took. We had no idea what the organization was going to do to get out of difficulty, much less if I would even have a job when the baby came.
I think it was the stress of dealing with both the reality of the baby’s condition and my employment status that had me waking up on the Saturday after Thanksgiving with what I knew were contractions. I immediately called my doctor who had me go to the hospital where my fear was confirmed. I left with medication to stop the contractions and an appointment with the Denver doctors on Monday.
More medication was distributed at that appointment, advice to start taking things a little slower, and the clear message that the chances of the baby’s survival if he was to arrive any earlier than our scheduled c-section date would be much, much slimmer. He needed time for his lungs to develop to be able to make it through the immediate gastroschisis surgery needed.
We had still only told a handful of people about Trey’s condition so I didn’t have much of an outlet to talk about my fears, therefore I just held them all in. At least as long as I could. That night it all came out. I cried hysterically while my husband sat beside me, offering whatever words of comfort he could. I hadn’t cried like that since the initial diagnosis was told to us. And after it was over, I didn’t cry like that again. But at that point I needed to cry, I needed release, I needed my husband more than I had ever needed him, and he was there. It was then that I realized how much stronger our marriage had gotten in our darkest hours. Funny how God works like that isn’t it?
Work became a second thought, we’d get through it. The contractions continued, sometimes frequent, sometimes a few days apart. By December I was having ultra sounds twice a week. Through those frequent visits with my baby on a screen I feel like I came to know him. He was no longer the gastroschisis baby, but my son, who I was watching go crazy in my tummy. The nurse commented more than once, “you’re going to have your hands full.” A year later I can tell you she was exactly right. I do have my hands full, and I love every second of it.
More to come…