Joy's birthday, part ii

(If you haven't read part i, start here.)   Now that you've heard about how Joy came into the world, I wanted to share some little details that were evidence to me that God was at work in the midst of this difficult situation. 

Throughout my pregnancy, I was concerned about the medical team that would be caring for Joy and me.  I had read accounts of other mothers carrying babies who were "incompatible with life" whose medical providers did not agree with their decision and did not treat them with much care or compassion.  However, I can honestly say that I did not encounter one instance of this throughout my pregnancy and delivery, and for that I am grateful.  While I was (and am) confident in my decision to carry Joy, I think it would have been heard to deal with someone to be hostile or uncaring towards her.  So though I don't know if everyone I came in contact with agreed personally with my decision, I never felt like I was looked down upon for my decision to carry her.  In fact, most of my providers treated me with care and compassion.  I never had to wait in the waiting room full of happy, expectant mothers - they always called me back to an exam room immediately (much to the chagrin of everyone who was there before me!). The midwives always gave me an extra-long listen to Joy's heartbeat and treated her just like they would any other baby.  They were concerned about me physically and emotionally. I couldn't have asked for better care. 

Leading up to the delivery itself, I had asked my friends and family to pray specifically for the medical team who would be caring for us.  I had met and liked most of the midwives in my practice, but really wanted someone with more experience and wisdom to handle my birth.  When I walked in for my induction, I found out that Helen* was the midwife on call.  Helen is the most experienced midwife in the group, with years of experience delivering babies in many different circumstances. I asked her how long she would be there and who was on call next, and she said that she would be here "until this baby is born"!  If you know anything about our modern medical system, that's incredible!  And so she was there from the being of labor until the end.  Helen has a somewhat matter-of-fact personality that was perfect for our emotional situation.  She was supportive and kind and our advocate during the whole birth process.

I often say that the nurses you have matter just as much (or more) than the actual doctor or midwife.  Again, our prayers were answered with Nurse Joan*.  Our whole birth team had been prepped in advance, and during a rare quiet moment when it was just Joan and I in the room, she told me that she was "honored to be caring for you and Joy" and then continued to tell me a personal story about her own life that she said she had never told anyone in the hospital.  True to her word, she treated Joy and I with care and compassion. Joan's shift was scheduled to end at 7, but she "just happened" to have her shift extended and she ended up being there when Joy was born and was the one to weigh and measure her and bathe her and take her back and forth from the operating room for her organ donation (more on that another day).  When Joan left, she handed us off to Jessica*.  We weren't under her care for very long, but she made a big impression.  She took care of me after Joy's birth, and said a beautiful prayer with us after she took us up to my post-partum room.

Another huge prayer request was for the birth itself, and for Joy to be born alive.   She was born naturally (no c-section, no pain meds) and was delivered right into my arms with Eric looking on, in the same way my two boys were (or would be).   Our family got to meet her immediately.  Although the birth wasn't enjoyable per se, it was all I could have asked for.  And as you know, Joy was indeed born alive.  If I'm being honest, this part is a little hard for me, because though she was "alive" she wasn't full of life.  She didn't cry or open her eyes or even breathe.  Her skin was rather dark because of the lack of oxygen (not uncommon with babies at birth, but she never "pinked up".)  Occasionally I wonder "should I have prayed for something more or more specific? Asked for an hour or a day or a week?".  But even a week or a month would not have been enough - I think that anytime you bury a child, after 1 day of life or 40 years, it's "not enough" time with them - it's just not the proper order of life. Though I would have liked more time with her and for her to be more full of life, most of the time I am content knowing that Joy's 10 minutes were just what God ordained for her and for us.  

This last little detail still gets me every time I think about it.  A little backstory: I tend to be a person who looks on the bright side of things and tries to find the positive in any situation.  So one day after Joy's diagnosis, I was wondering if she would look like Liam.  My mind wandered and I wondered if she would have red curly hair.  Suddenly, I realized that she would most likely not have ANY hair because of the opening on her head. For some reason, this just crushed me.  I kept my chin up for this most part during my pregnancy, but this was devastating; I sobbed and sobbed.   I don't think I dwelled on it much after that, but those moments came rushing back to me when Joy was born, as we immediately noticed that she was born with red curly hair!  The opening on her head was rather large, but from ear to ear all around the bottom of her head, she had long-ish curly red hair.  This is particularly amazing considering that both boys were born with just a little red fuzz and didn't have much hair to speak of until they were at least a year old!  I felt like it was a little gift from God - His way of saying that He was with us, and that she was His child and our child. (I mean I knew she was our child, but it was a physical sign that she had the Salesky trademark; she belonged to our family no matter how shortly she would be a part of it physically.)  

In everyday life, I confess that I am far too quick to attribute things to coincidence or "good luck" or just not to think about their source at all.  I definitely do not regularly reflect on the fact that  the thousands of small blessings of life come from the "giver of all good things".  That's not a good mindset for a believer to have, but it does mean that I'm not speaking lightly when I saw that I truly believe that God answered our prayers regarding even the small details of Joy's birth.  Furthermore, He was present in ways that we didn't even think to ask about (the red hair).  I think that's why the red hair is so precious to me - I suppose you could look at the medical care I received and say "that's just the way the hospital scheduling played out - how fortunate." and so on. But in my eyes, there's no way you can attribute long curly red hair to anything but the hands of a gracious and compassionate God. 

*Names have been changed in some kind of weird reverse-HIPAA protection of privacy. :)

Joy's birthday, part i

At long last, we knew that August 3 was the day that we would meet our daughter. There were many scenarios and possibilities regarding Joy's birth and we had planned and discussed our options as much as possible.  We also had many people praying regarding the details of that big day.  In the hours just before and after Joy's birth, we saw God's hand at work in ways that were unmistakable.

Actually, God's providence was at work long before we were even pregnant with Joy.  Two years earlier, when Liam's due date was nearing, I also had to have an induction.  I had planned and prepared or a natural birth and was terrified that being induced would end up leading to a C-section.  Thankfully it didn't!  Now two years later, I was so grateful for that experience and the feeling of confidence that I had that my body could handle an induction.   So when Joy was born, although I didn't love the idea of labor being induced again, it actually worked out well so that both of our families, including my sister from South Carolina, could be present for her birth. 

The hospital told us they would call us between 3am and 7am to come in.  They called at 5:30am, which was perfect - we got a decent-ish night's sleep but got on the road early enough to miss rush hour traffic.  Thankfully they were all ready for us at the hospital - I was grateful that we didn't have to spend time in the waiting room amongst all those excited soon-to-be moms.  They even arranged for us to have an out-of-the-way room in the corner.  It still took several hours to get things going, between paperwork to be filled out and decisions to be made.   This was another point in which I was glad for the preparations I had made for Liam's birth. We had taken Bradley childbirth courses, and one thing they stressed was being assertive (in a kind way) about your wishes for your birth. I am not naturally an assertive person, but I definitely had ideas about how I wanted things to go with Joy's birth, and was glad that I had had some prior experience in expressing my preferences to the medical staff.

[This is a birth story.  I tried to keep it rated G, but if you're squeamish, you might want to skip this part. Haha! It's interesting to me and to many others though, so I wanted to include it.]

Finally, at 9:20 am, the induction officially began!  An hour later, the contractions were picking up. By 1:30 they were really close together, but not all that strong.  I was able to get a mobile monitor for my contractions, so I was allowed out of bed.  I walked laps and laps around the labor and delivery hallway. We had decided not to monitor Joy's heartbeat during labor - I didn't think that I could handle going through labor knowing that she wasn't alive any longer.  Thankfully she was kind enough to move around periodically to let me know that she was still doing okay.

[I wondered if some people might think it's kind of odd to have pictures taken during this situation looking happy, but then I decided that I didn't care what other people think. So if you think it's weird, just don't tell me. I love pictures and love to document our life with pictures and am I'm glad I have these. Meanwhile, Eric was documenting his part of labor with pictures like these: 

If you know Eric and his penchant for Diet Coke, you'll know how appropriate that picture is! It was a very serious and sad day, but I was grateful for moments of levity and for my silly husband to help get me through the physical and emotional pain!]

By 6pm, I was tired, hungry and only dilated to 4 cm. That's when I started to get really discouraged.  The organ donation coordinator provided pizza in one of the lounges for our family and support team.  They tried to keep it a secret from me, but I could smell it on their breath when they came back in (Eric claims I have a super-human sense of smell).  Logically, I knew that they needed to eat, but I was pretty angry that I couldn't!   So I ordered tray after tray of "delicious" clear fluids - chicken broth, gatorade, and italian ice (which was actually pretty tasty but not all that filling) and pressed on.

At that point, the Maternal Fetal Medicine doctors who were overseeing my care suggested breaking my water to speed things up.  I was very much not okay with this - research indicates that the bag of water really protects an anencephalic baby's head during contractions, so I politely but forcefully turned down that idea.  I was again grateful for my Bradley classes that taught me that I don't have to go along with all the suggestions made to me and for a supportive midwife who agreed that breaking my water wasn't necessary at this point.  Finally at 6:30 pm, the contractions starting picking up in intensity.  I always joke that labor is the only time that people seem to be excited to see you in pain (hopefully it's the only time!).  The Summer Olympics were happening while I was in labor, so I remember watching some long-distance race and wondering who was exerting more effort!  I also distinctly remember watching Jeopardy - it was Middle School Jeopardy week and I was on a roll answering questions between contractions.  Random, I know. 

We chose to have a doula for Joy's birth, and she was so helpful in keeping me comfortable and encouraged. I maintain that I will never have another baby without a doula!  She kept me company as we walked around the halls and bounced on the birth ball.  Around 10 pm, I was completely exhausted and was ready to just give in and get the epidural so I could lay down and rest comfortably.  I had really hoped to go without it so that I could move around freely during and after birth.  Also, since I've never had anesthesia I was scared that I would have a bad reaction...and then there's the whole "needle in the spine" thing.  But I was so tired and in so much pain!  The Midwife checked me again and I was only at a 7. I told her and Eric that I thought I might want the epi, and she encouraged me to wait until 10:30.  I'm so glad she did!  I know that one of the common signs of transition (the end of labor before pushing) is feeling like you want to give up, but I wasn't optimistic that I was that close and couldn't allow myself to get my hopes up.  But apparently I was that close  - shortly after 10, I felt a little pop and a tiny gush.  I was pretty sure it was my water breaking, but the nurse didn't think so.  The next contraction proved me correct - all over the floor!  I guess that nurse should have believed me and moved me to the bed. Ha! After a couple super painful contractions, I jumped to 9 cm!   

During this period after my water broke, Joy let out a huge string of powerful kicks - at least 10, if not more. They were so strong that you could literally see my stomach moving from across the room.  I like to think of this as her grand finale and her fond farewell.  (At that point, I wasn't even sure if she was still alive.  She had either stopped moving as much or her movements were less noticeable with the pain of labor.  The midwife had checked with the doppler to establish a time that she was alive for organ donation purposes, but Eric didn't think it was a good idea for me to know whether they had found a heartbeat or not. I was so relieved to know that she was still alive and kicking, literally!) 

I felt ready to push, and the midwife said I could.  A couple of pushes later, the rest of my water was expelled with a painful explosion.  I'll spare you the details, but after a few excruciatingly painful moments, Joy Marie Salesky was born at 10:50 pm (less than an hour after I was ready to give up!).  The midwife placed her directly on my chest and into my arms, just like I wished.  She was a tiny thing, weighing only 4 pounds, 2 ounces.  

The neonatal team was on hand and immediately assessed her on my chest to see if she had a heartbeat, which she did.  The biggest prayer of my heart had been answered!  

Our medical team was amazing - as soon as Joy was born they toweled her off and cleaned me off and made me presentable so that our families could come in to meet Joy.  They were waiting just outside and were all in the room within a few minutes of her birth.  

Unfortunately, the force of being born was too much on her exposed brain and she never took a breath on her own.  After just a few minutes (10-15), her heart stopped beating and she passed peacefully from this world to the next. I don't even know exactly when it happened, but I do know that she was being cradled by one of her family members as she passed.  The saying is kind of trite but true - "all she knew was love," and really, what more can any parent wish for their child?