I never really thought I would have a story worth telling. Everyone has a different experience when having their first baby, but six months later and I really feel prompted to share my experience with the world. You see, I had plenty of unexpected circumstances during my pregnancy and delivery like most women. When I was pregnant, I was diagnosed with gestational diabetes, which certainly tested my patience and although I prayed regularly for my baby’s health, it also gave me an even stronger desire to pray for him (which I will share in another blog).
I was 37 weeks pregnant on the day of coming into labour. At about 5:15am, I woke to his usual kicking until I felt a very sharp thump. Within seconds my water was well and truly broken. I admit I was a bit frightened. It was unexpected at 3 weeks early and I hadn’t yet packed my bag to go to hospital. My contractions started an hour later but to my surprise, they did not get strong enough to stay at the hospital. I was in the first stage of labour with different levels of pain for three days (visiting the hospital each morning for a check up). My mother, husband and I even went shopping which had me laughing when we bumped into friends, wondering how I was doing? I decided not to tell anyone until I was induced at the hospital on the third day. I remembered that everyone was bombarding my sister-in-law with questions about her labour that took more than a day, so I really didn’t want that too.
The morning I went in to be induced at the hospital happened to land on Mother’s Day. It was all very exciting. I had Alicia Keys to listen to and was also determined to use nothing more than gas. At 5:00pm I was making great progress. 6 hours passed with support from both my mum and husband. The midwife then checked my dilation for the first time and was happy to say I was about 8 cm dilated, but hung around confused. She was concerned that it did not feel normal and had to ask the doctor to check. Unfortunately, the doctor explained that it was a face presentation. This meant that my boy was coming out face first which only happens 1 in 1000 labours. She continued to explain that because it is too difficult for a baby to be born this way, it also meant that I had to go in for an emergency cesarean. My heart absolutely sank. I worked so hard to eat well, avoid drugs (besides gas) and had no bad reactions to being induced, but I still needed a cesarean.
As I was taken off the drip and prepped for surgery I silently prayed for it to go well. I admit I was scared. I have friends that had to have a cesarean, but I was desperate not to have one myself. I guess it was meant to be a part of my testimony. I don’t know why certain things happen to some people and not others, but I do believe that if we do experience something we really don’t want to – we are given an opportunity to relate to others that have also experienced it.
I don’t know if my testimony will ever provide someone with comfort, challenge their thinking for better or help strengthen someone’s faith, but I do feel prompted to share it none-the-less. The surgery did go well and although recovery was the worst pain I’ve even gone through (yes, I’ve broken bones before) the scar even healed quickly. I was numb from the chest down and had a big tarp to hide the procedure, but it was a bit daunting feeling the pressure of the surgeons thrash my body left and right. My husband stood by my side and despite it all, it was still a wonderful moment to hear our boy cry and then lifted into view for us to see.
I was very nervous after the procedure, waiting to feel my body again. Slowly but surely though, I began to wiggle my toes and over a few hours all the feeling came back. Eventually over at the labour ward, I reunited with family and my boy. It was such a beautiful moment. And I was very thankful that it was all over. All the hard work was worth it. We had a healthy baby boy and because I was strict to control my gestational diabetes with a diet, his sugar levels was insignificantly affected. We took photos and shared the news of our beautiful boy’s early arrival on Mother’s Day with the rest of our friends and family. Before going to sleep I thanked God again for our beautiful boy.
The next morning was full of challenges. I had to get out of bed for the first time after the cesarean. The best I can describe was an incredible burning pain searing across my abdomen like the skin had been ripped from my torso. Unfortunately, my natural reaction was to tense my abdominal muscles which had me screaming and crying for 10 minutes until I could finally relax. Regardless of this however, I eventually worked out how to pull my way out of bed (trying only to use my back muscles) and made my first trip to the bathroom for a shower.
Back in bed, I was also visited by a doctor in charge of the ICU where the nurses were monitoring our boy’s sugar levels. It was still early, so my husband was not yet back to visit. The doctor explained that he would like to take some blood tests because some of the nurses have noticed a few symptoms that together – look like a baby who might have Down Syndrome (DS). I didn’t need long to process what he said. I said that it was ok to perform the test because obviously it would be important to know. He left looking more positive than when he entered, but my attitude quickly changed from confidence to panic. I grabbed my phone and messaged my brother. He was 7 years younger than me, but as a devoted Christian on fire for God, I knew that he would faithfully pray with a fierce attitude for my situation. I told him that I didn’t want to tell anyone else, but they wanted to do a blood test to check if he had DS, if he could pray against it and that I believed it had to be a lie from the devil. He agreed.
It was very hard to tell my husband when he arrived. He was bright and bubbly, smiling with joy. But I wasn’t. My joy was stolen away. I explained what happened and that the doctor said he would come back to explain more once my partner arrived. It took three days before we got the results back, which was actually considered very fast for results to return. It was the hardest three days I have ever experienced. We decided not to tell anyone else until we knew the results and stopped all communication with friends or family that didn’t visit. I don’t know how many times I prayed, but the first 2 nights I know I didn’t sleep. I was determined to pray against it. I searched through everything I knew in my heart that God was still here with me; and helping me and my husband through every hour. I was shaken. I cried so much that I got good at hiding it when someone was about to walk into the room (which happened a lot for food orders/delivery/pick up, pain killers, antibiotics, lactation help and examinations to check the progress of my scar healing). It frustrated me because I felt like I needed time to share my fears and frustrations with God and beg for his favour – crying as I prayed – but I was always interrupted.
I also wanted to sing because I always found that it brought me comfort and strengthened my faith, however, I didn’t want to bother the lady in the room next to me who would hear me through the doors of our shared bathroom. After 2 days though, my husband realised that next door was actually a couple that also attended our church, but we didn’t know very well. I then decided I would be a little selfish and that she wouldn’t mind, so every time I was in the bathroom I sang Hope of All Hearts. (A couple of months later, I was surprised to learn that next to us, she was struggling to cope with the pain of her cesarean after the delivery of her fourth baby and when she heard my singing she said that it really helped her through it. She said that when I sang, she would sit over by the door to listen.)
The last night before we were given the results, I was very tired. I knew I couldn’t stay up all night again so I became very desperate. My prayer changed to be as transparent as I possibly could. I prayed that if I knew what to do or to say to make the results come back negative, I would do so. I said that I knew I wasn’t perfect or deserved a miracle but I deeply wanted one. I realised that no one really deserved a miracle, but that he gave them to some people none-the-less. I then thought about how I believed that God has a purpose for all of us and wondered why he might allow my boy to have DS. I decided to pray and acknowledge that as our creator, he knitted us in our mother’s womb so he could rearrange my son’s genes if he needed to. I prayed that God would grant us a miracle, not because we deserved it but because he loved us and because my boy was one of his children too. I asked that if there was anything affecting our boy, that God would change his genes because he can and so that our son no longer had anything – or if God had a reason for our boy to have DS – that he would make/change his genes so that he would not be affected by it. I then prayed in tongues for a short while because I didn’t know what else to say, but wanted the comfort of knowing that I have said enough. I gradually felt comforted. I felt that God was there, that he cared and that he wanted me to know that I shouldn’t be afraid.
The next morning the doctor came to my room to tell me that the results were here, but was happy to wait for my partner to share them with us as we had requested earlier. Once my husband arrived two doctors and a social worker entered our room. Because three of them came to our room, I already knew what they were going to say and when they told us that the results came back positive for DS I was extremely surprised by my reaction. I was very level headed and ask what happened from here? Although I didn’t really want to hear it, I was calm and collected. I became frustrated by the end however, reluctant to hear them tell us to that although there will be challenges in the future, for now he is just our baby and that we should be able to love him as our baby.
Once they left my husband wandered slowly over to our boy and smiled. He picked him up with love and said that he didn’t care and he still loved our boy just the same. He then proceeded to ask me if I would like a hold and I declined. I wasn’t angry or bitter, but I just couldn’t face him right then. I had a variety of thoughts racing through my head and I wasn’t ready to accept my boy as someone different to who I only just fell in love with. But it was only short. Watching my husband with him and a nurse giving him his first bath soon changed my heart and I wanted to hold my boy. When I did, I was quickly reminded of his innocence. I already loved him so much and it continued to grow. I was conflicted however, wondering why God would rob our boy of a healthy and happy future? I knew God wasn’t like that and thought back to my prayers. Only Satan comes to steal, kill and destroy. I felt a sense of peace that my prayers were answered and decided to hold fast and believe that God was going to give my boy good health and protect him.
If you would like to know more about our progress, please feel free to read my other posts:
My First Born: (1) Unexpected Circumstances
My First Born: (2) Praying One Step At A Time
My First Born: (3) Overcoming The Stigmatism of Down Syndrome
My First Born: (4) Becoming Nonchalant
My First Born: (5) Polite Stereotyping – Down Syndrome
My First Born: (6) Fun, Joy and Giggles – Overlooking Down Syndrome
Thank you.
Keeping Faithful 