Part Two

Well, it isn't that night, the next day, or even the next...we're just too busy I guess. Let's finish this up if we can.

I had had a fitful night's sleep due to my blood pressure, the medications, the baby, and generally just due to being in the hospital. The next day they continued to monitor me and discussed the fact that I would probably be spending the next 10 weeks bedfast in the hospital. I was against that - I had a toddler at home! Little did I know that I would not be seeing my little Kelsey for quite a while. The did two ultrasounds each lasting 30 minutes to check the number of breaths Jonah took and how many times he would move. Each time the ultrasounds showed that he was not breathing and not moving. The ultrasound also showed that I had no amniotic fluid left in my body. The nurses asked me if I had been leaking fluid - I asked if that was something I would be aware of (ha, ha) and they very seriously said yes! Well, needless to say they were concerned that my body had just absorbed this fluid. Not only was he not moving or breathing, it was completely dry in there! Darrel was not really aware of any of this yet and was planning on leaving so he could be at the annual chicken dinner fund raiser. The doctors quickly stopped him and informed him that things had changed drastically. We would be having a baby before the night was over.

I was so worried - I knew it was way too early for this child to be born. A million things went through my mind. The nurses assured me that there were worse weeks for him to be born - 30 weeks was relatively good. They gave me two shots to help mature his lungs and then the preparations for an emergency C-section began. I was not able to deliver him naturally due to the absence of amniotic fluid and due to the fact he hadn't breathed or moved in over an hour. I don't remember much about the rest of that night. Only that things were moving very fast. I remember after enduring a painful epidural the nurses congratulating the student doctor on her very first epidural. YIKES! Would I even be able to walk again? I remember the nurses telling Darrel to put on the paper scrubs, much to his dislike. I remember him walking out looking like the Incredible Hulk because they had ripped. I remember Darrel trying to squeeze his 5x body into 2x doctor's scrubs. He looked like the Pillsbury Doughboy. Then I remember being in the operating room and a nurse showing me a little tiny body for 1 second.

When I woke up the next morning, my parents were there and my sister Debbie. The toxemia had gone with the delivery of the baby. But my blood pressure was still high and the magnesium sulfate they were giving me was making me...um, how do I say it...oh yeah...mean! I was beginning to panic. I couldn't remember what my baby looked like and no one was giving me any information. The polaroid they had given me made Jonah look like he was deformed. Darrel convinced the nurses that the best option was for me to be able to see the baby. But doing that without getting out of bed was impossible. Those dear nurses took Jonah's isolette out of the NICU and wheeled him down to me. I couldn't hold him or touch him, but I could see him for myself. I was allowed to leave the hospital after a week. Jonah, however, was going to have to stay. We drove an hour to and an hour from the hospital every day for four weeks. Our church ladies were upset because I had caused Darrel to miss the chicken supper. There were no meals brought to us, no one to meet us when we came home, and no one to help a distraut mama who had to leave her little man in a cold hospital each night. They expected us to continue with our pastorly duties each day. We were not allowed to find outside jobs to help with expenses. We were not helped by our church with these expenses. If it hadn't been for our parents and grandparents, we would not have had the money to drive each day. Gary and Lois had taken Kelsey back to Missouri with them. The stress of daily hearing all that could be wrong with Jonah, trying to keep faith that he would be fine, facing an uncaring congregation, and having our family temporarily torn apart was quickly taking a toll on us.

Not being able to hold Jonah was the worst part for me. He was progressing nicely and shocking the doctors with his improving health. There were no side affects from the blow-by oxygen he had received. His lungs were good but he still had a little apnea going on. Still, I was not allowed to hold him for more than a couple of minutes a day. He couldn't be touched a lot. It was torture. I looked at this little man and felt like he was somebody else's baby - the nurses' baby or the doctors' baby. Not mine. My milk would not come in (as with Kelsey) so I could only get a tablespoon or two to give Jonah a day. I was so tired. Then one day, a nurse came in and gave me the best news of my life - I was going to get to do "Kangaroo Care" that day. They unbuttoned the top of my shirt and took Jonah out of his isolette without blankets on. They placed him skin-on-skin on my chest. It was one of the best days of my life and I will never forget it. We finally bonded after weeks of being apart. Tears coursed down my cheeks as I rocked and rocked and rocked my precious Jonah. I finally felt like he was mine. Even the nurses cried with me.

There were many tense times as the doctors told me he would be mentally retarded or physically handicapped in some way. But each day the doctors were proved wrong. He continued to improve daily. After four long weeks, we were blessed to be able to bring him home. It had been a long time since our family was together. Lois came back with Kelsey to stay for a while and help me. She was a Godsend. Jonah's sleeping schedule was turned around and he rarely slept at night. He cried a lot - a whole lot. Kelsey, at 23 months of age, no longer recognized me as her mother figure. Things were going to get a lot harder before they got any easier.

I'll try to finish today...but don't count on it - ha!