4 Years

Well, besides being Steve's birthday today, it's also James' and my anniversary. Hard to believe it's been 4 years already. (We're getting old!) Today I found an old email I had forgotten I'd written to one of my missionary companions right after Sam was born. Maybe it's because I'm all pregnant and hormonal, but I couldn't read it without crying and I thought it was a fitting thing to accidentally find on our anniversary. We still feel like we're sort of "in the thick of it" with James being crazy busy and working so hard, but reading this today reminded me of how far we've come already and how thankful I am for all his hard work for us. Here's the letter ...

Hi Punim,

Sorry it's taken me so long to get back to you. Thank you for the baby clothes, that was so thoughtful of you. Your timing was incredible. We were expecting the baby in March, but instead he surprised us on January 21st!!! Now I know you’re dying to hear a long-winded labor story, right?

Here it goes:

The 21st was a Sunday morning. I woke up at 7:50am feeling a little crampy, but the baby had just turned head down earlier that week so I thought it was just that the Braxton Hicks contractions were feeling stronger in his new position. I told James I felt yucky and was gonna soak in the tub for awhile before church. He came in later and decided he wanted to time my "Braxton Hicks contractions." I laughed at him and thought he was being over zealous from our child birth prep classes we had just started. He told me they were lasting a minute and were a minute apart (you're supposed to go to the hospital when they're 5 minutes apart - woops.) Anyway the contractions were getting stronger and I decided if they were hurting me then they were probably bugging the baby too, so I reluctantly decided to go sit at the hospital and make sure everything was ok. (Of course I had to put on make up and do my hair first.) My mom asked if she should go with us. I told her no - that they were just gonna tell me "that's normal" like every other shocking thing that happens to your body during pregnancy and send me home. (I found out later James was behind me mouthing, “YES, you need to come with us!”)

I was irritated because I was tired and hurting and didn't want to spend my Sunday at the hospital. I was also worried they would tell me to take it easy or suggest bed rest which is hard to think about when you're the only one bringing home a paycheck till the end of the semester. By the time we got in the car it was hurting more and more. I was starting to get worried about the baby in there. I thought maybe they’d have to give me a shot or something to stop it. The hospital is about 30 minutes away. When we pulled into the parking lot I puked like I have never puked before – I sounded like I was possessed!!! There were no wheel chairs at the door so we walked across the first floor to the elevators. I guess the people inside were in a hurry because right before we got there the doors closed – jerks! When we finally got to labor and delivery on the third floor I went to the front desk and told them I was having contractions (it was probably about 9:30am by that time.) The nurse kinda scared me because before I even finished my sentence she was calling a triage nurse. She picked up the phone and said in a forced-calm voice, “I have a mom here having contractions AND SHE’S SHAKING REALLY BAD.” James told me later I was completely white.

They hooked me up to monitors – the baby’s heartbeat was good, yay! She was looking at my contractions on the screen. I was getting pretty inpatient and said, “Can’t you give me something to stop this?” She said, “Well, that depends on how far you’ve progressed.” That was the first time I realized those were real labor pains – I wasn’t just being a whimp. I decided right then that if this is what early labor pains were like then I was definitely gonna get an epidural when I really did go into labor (in March of course.) The nurse checked my cervix and said pitifully, “Oh, Honey, you’re 9 centimeters … you’re gonna have a baby today.” I, of course, began to cry and completely freak out. I was only 33 weeks pregnant. I had just finally started “showing.” (I weighed more on my mission than the day I gave birth!) They wheeled me into a delivery room (a wheelchair – fancy that) and made me lay down which hurt a lot worse than standing up and leaning on James. Then they spent what felt like an eternity asking me the Stupidest questions like my address and phone # and all that crap – supposedly I was already registered at that hospital, but I think they just wanted to torture me.

I was so scared and hopeless – I had no idea what babies were like born 7 weeks early. I didn’t know if he would live or if there would be lots of things wrong with him. I finally asked if I could have anything for the pain. They told me it was too late and that it wouldn’t be safe for the baby. So I asked how long before I could start pushing. That finally made her stop asking me silly questions. She said, “You feel like you want to push???” … Duh! I still wonder how long they would’ve let me lay there squirming around before they let me push, I was 9 centimeters dilated when I got there for heaven’s sake. She checked my cervix and said, “OH, you’re ready! But don’t push, wait for the doctor.”

Yes, Camilla, it really does hurt … bad. But looking back, I think if it was a normal birth and I wasn’t so scared for my poor little baby it would’ve hurt less. It really is doable. Luckily my sweet boy was faster than a speeding bullet and I only had to push for 15 minutes. (The draw back to having him come out so quick was that I had an episiotomy, and STILL “tore” in the front … didn’t you want to know that?) My awesome little kid was born at 10:51am. I had no idea what to expect, but he really looked perfect – and it wasn’t just blurry hormonal mommy vision, everybody was surprised at how great he looked. He was bright pink with chubby cheeks and a thick head of dark hair. He didn’t even look like a scrawny preemie. He looked like a normal, plump baby – just in miniature. He was 17.5 inches long and 4 pounds 11.5 ounces (about a pound more than the average at that age!) He let out a good cry and then started sucking on his arm. The doctor handed him to a neonatal nurse who (BLESS HER HEART) set him on my chest for about 2 seconds so I could kiss him and see him open his eyes for the first time. Then, of course they had to whisk him off, which I totally expected. He looked so great I was sure they would be back with him in a few minutes and I would get to take him home. (Yeah, obviously I didn’t read much about preemies when I was pregnant. I just was having a totally normal pregnancy, this was the last thing I ever thought would happen!) James got to follow them with the baby, and as soon as they said it was ok for my mom to go I told her to go too. When they got back James was smiling and nodding his head at me. He said, “He’s good, he’s gonna be alright.” But he looked too happy, like he was trying too hard to convince me. The baby looked so good when I saw him I thought I didn’t have to worry anymore. Then I saw my mom and it looked like she had been crying. The neonatologist came in right behind them. He told me there was nothing wrong with the baby, but because he was so early he was having too much trouble breathing on his own. They call it respiratory distress syndrome. The poor little babies spend so much energy breathing they burn too many calories and go downhill fast. The doctor told me he was hooked up to a machine to help him breathe and they would have to transfer him to a level 3 hospital in Sacramento.

I got to go down right away to see him. They wheeled me right up to him and the nurse that had handed him to me explained all his new “equipment.” When I look back at the pictures from those first few days, they break my heart. His tiny little body had so much “machinery” on it. But I guess because I had spent the last two years working at the clinic and assisting with surgeries, I expected a lot worse. When they told me he was on oxygen I thought he would be on a ventilator, but instead he had a CPAP. Because he was breathing on his own he didn’t need a ventilator to breathe FOR him, but because his tiny lungs were not supposed to be breathing air yet, they would collapse when he would exhale, so it made it that much harder each time he had to take another breath. The CPAP goes over their head and smashes their little piggy nose up and blows continuous positive air pressure to keep their lungs from deflating. He had an iv that took up his whole little arm, a central line from his umbilical cord, 3 monitors on his torso, one on his heel, and the other heel was bandaged from all the blood draws. He had a heater above him to keep him warm. He was so tough, every time someone would bother him he let out a little grunt or squeak and a wiggle to protest. James and I were still deciding between two names, but when I saw him there I decided his name was Sam. (Samuel Joseph Holden.) I couldn’t hold him, so I just leaned forward in my wheelchair and wrapped my arms around him like a hug as best as I could. I stayed like that with my face next to him and talking to him until the transport team came to take him away.

It’s really amazing the things they can do for these babies. They sent a neonatologist, a neonatal nurse, and a respiratory therapist to be there with him the whole ambulance ride. I got to stay there with him while the doctors and nurses gave their reports on his condition to the transport team and they hooked him up in his little space capsule. It wasn’t until the elevator doors closed and he was out of my sight that I lost it. All my mommy hormones kicked in full force and I HAD to be with my baby … NOW. They brought me to my recovery room and I told them I either needed to be released as soon as possible or I needed to be transferred to the hospital where my baby went. They told me it would be better to just rest and if everything went well I could be released tomorrow. They said that usually the paperwork to approve a transfer takes longer than getting well enough to be released. I asked them to start it just in case. Miracle of miracles, the same ambulance that took Sam to Sacramento turned right around and got me. The nurses said they’d NEVER seen it happen that fast.

Since he had an iv he wasn’t ready to eat for awhile so I started pumping breastmilk drop by drop every 2 hours 24 hours a day to try and get a decent milk supply. My sister in law flew out from Springville and got us a motel room close to the hospital (it was 60 to 90 minutes away from our house depending on traffic.) I couldn’t be with Sam all the time because it was such a high level of intensive care at that hospital. But I could go every 3 hours for his feedings. At first it was just my colostrum through a tube down his throat, then it was feeding tiny amounts of breastmilk from a bottle. I didn’t sleep for two days, and after that I didn’t sleep much. (Adrenaline is an amazing thing.) Leaving him over and over was the most agonizing thing I’ve ever done in my life. James still had school, so he came as much as he could, but we were separated a lot. Nighttime was the worst. I couldn’t relax enough to fall asleep, then when exhaustion finally took over I had to get up every couple hours to hook myself up to a cow machine when all I wanted to do was hold my baby. After a day or so he didn’t need the CPAP anymore. He got to have a little nasal canula instead and they slowly decreased the amount of oxygen he got from it each day until it was eventually just room air. By Thursday he didn’t need any help breathing, and we got the ok to transfer him back to the hospital he was born at.

That made things much easier. James would drop me off at the hospital in the morning on his way to school and pick me up after school. We would have lunch together, then he would do homework and I would go back to the hospital until late at night. At this hospital they didn’t have to kick me out every 3 hours, so I stayed with him all the time. Other than a few bouts of jaundice he was just working on getting bigger and stronger. Sam had a hard time figuring out how to suck, swallow, and breathe all at the same time. It was tough to see him trying so hard when he was so tired, and more and more was expected of him each day. On February 10th after the LONGEST 3 weeks of my life we finally got to take our baby home. He was 5 pounds 4 ounces.

Now he’s 3 and a half months old and must be pushing 12 pounds, I can’t believe how fast he grows. Every morning I wake up and he’s bigger. I know becoming a mother is always an amazing experience, but I always feel especially amazed because of how far we’ve come. What an interesting blessing to see what your baby would have been doing in your belly the last two months of your pregnancy. I’m still amazed at what unmistakable personalities they have right from the beginning even when they’re not done cooking yet. I think going through the anguish of being without my baby has made me so much more thankful. When I was pregnant I was worried about having to get up all night with a baby, and having it need you 24 hours a day. After he was born I realized I would have given anything to be woken up in the middle of the night by my baby instead of an alarm telling me to pump milk, and I found out that I needed him 24 hours a day at least as much as he needed me. Sam has completely taken over our lives like the good Lord intended him to. He’s doing lots of smiling and laughing now, and I’ve discovered it’s physiologically impossible for any human being not to laugh or at least smile at that. James and I always planned on me being a stay at home mom, but then real life happened. We had a baby on the way, and if we wanted to have a future we needed James to get through school as quickly as possible. We hoped we could figure out a way for me to not have to work, but I wondered if we really had a choice. Now we realize we don’t have a choice. That me leaving Sam to go to work is not worth any amount of money. James is still going to school full time and has a paid internship as an engineering assistant. I have no idea how he’s able to do it all, and neither does he. It’s like on your mission when you do your tiny little part and Heavenly Father makes up the difference by blessing you with extra … whatever. Life is crazy. I’m still clueless, but I can’t believe how much I’ve learned already. So don’t forget to let me know when you and Victor are expecting, I have lots of advice!!! ;)

Thanks again for the gift and just for keeping in touch. I really do miss you. You don’t meet friends like you very often, and it sucks we’re spread out all over the country. We were supposed to live next door to eachother, remember? I love you, Punim.

-Sista Bebo :)