Naomi’s Birth Story

Naomi’s Birth Story

2022 started with two positive tests. One for Covid, the other for pregnancy. We had just arrived back from a Christmas trip to Miami, my health had deteriorated pretty rapidly on the drive home and so did the weather. Tornados and storms were rolling through Middle Tennessee before a large cold front moved in. So, we spent New Year’s Eve at a hotel in Valdosta, GA. I laid in bed with a fever, chills and body ache. I didn’t have any clue that I was newly pregnant until that night in Valdosta. I had been planning on receiving an abdominal cerclage before we began trying. Something happened in that hotel room that made me send Enrique out into the bitter cold for a pregnancy test as soon as we made it home.

The pink lines popped up immediately and Enrique shouted excitedly, “The Lord provides!” I remember thinking, “You don’t know that. He also takes away.” I wanted to be joyful over the new life but I was in agony over my anxiety for the baby. Positive pregnancy tests are death sentences for my sweet babies. 

My doctor was optimistic, she said this was good news. I was scheduled for a McDonald Cerclage at 12 weeks. Our kind friend Amy woke up extra early to watch my big kids while I had the procedure done. The procedure itself was uneventful but I struggled with a spinal headache that kept me in bed for 3 days after. Even with “the stitch”, as they are known to those who are familiar to them, I was anxious. I worked nights and sometimes it was busy. I would be on my feet for the entire shift. More than once I walked over to L&D to have them test for infection/ amniotic fluid. I also went to the ER to have things checked out at least twice. I was a wreck- I prayed over the baby, I willed my body to hold the baby. I recited the statistics of the success rate for the cerclage over and over to myself. 

At 18 weeks pregnant, right around Easter, I started think that we might actually make it. I had lost Titus at 18 weeks and so far I had no ill signs. I took my first baby bump picture. I continued working with no events. At 20 weeks we were scheduled for the anatomy scan. It confirmed what I already knew, the baby was a girl. It also showed that I had no internal cervix left. My anxiety seated deeper into my stomach. My doctor said not to worry, sometimes you funnel down to the stitch. Enrique was a little frustrated with my anxiety. He didn’t like how much I was laying down, he thought I was overdoing it. We were supposed to take a trip to Cincinatti, something he was really looking forward to and I was having a hard time getting on board. Here is where I can begin to see the Lord’s hand directly. Another doctor, the head doctor of the clinic I went to, had noticed my ultrasound results. He ordered more imaging 2 days later. By this time I was 21 weeks pregnant and we announced the pregnancy. Things were going fast and I wanted to announce before we had her. After the next appointment we discovered that not only was my internal cervix gone, but I had dilated 1 cm. It was Lucas’s 6th birthday and I missed his party because I spent the night in the hospital. The doctor’s determined that I was not going to go into labor that night. I spoke with a Neonatologist during that hospital stay and she gave me all the statistics for a 22 weeker. She said they only began intervening about 5 years ago and they might save 1 out of 5 babies. Today they might save 2-3 out of 5 babies. That the babies would have severe handicaps. Then she said something that stuck onto my soul. She shrugged and said, “but we sent one home on oxygen yesterday.” 

Needless to say, Cincinnati was canceled. My mother in law was asked to come help. I placed myself on bed rest, with the exception of sitting out in the sun for 30 minutes to an hour a day. I would sit with my feet up and watch my kids play. I also asked to receive steroids to help develop the baby’s lungs this week. I was grateful that my OB gave me no pushback and they gave me the shots willingly.

A week after my last hospital stay, I was trying to get comfortable and go to sleep. The kids were in their beds, Abuelita had layed down, and Enrique was getting settled. I kept getting up and going to the bathroom. I felt like I was having more discharge than usual and felt a slight burning. Enrique asked me what was up. I didn’t want to alarm him so, I said I was fine. About an hour later, I couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that something was up. I had a set of PH strips and decided to use them. They read very alkaline and I was afraid my water had broken. 

So we were off. We debated whether to go to our local hospital which is 5 minutes away or make the hour long drive to Nashville. I felt like we needed to head to Vanderbilt just in case, because they have a level 4 NICU. If I had delivered at Tennova, our local hospital, I’m not sure any effort would have been made to save the baby. 

We arrived at Vanderbilt and our visit began with another ultrasound to see which way the baby was facing. She was breech, which means butt down. The doctor then asked to examine me. This is always terrifying with my condition, but I said, “Something is up, it’s why we are here.” He began to examine me and collect some swabs. I asked, “How is it looking down there?” He said, “We’ll talk about that in a minute.” So, I knew it wasn’t looking good. After he had finished, he said, “I’m really sorry, but you are dilated 4cm.” And I just started crying. My water had not broken and he was suggesting a c-section. Enrique and I were so shocked. You mean right now? We talked to so many doctors who patiently answered a lot of questions. 

The NICU said they didn’t think that a week would make all that much difference and the L&D doctor said, “It sounds like you want your baby to be born alive, with a scheduled c-section we would be prepared. We wouldn’t be scrambling around, and it is the best chance for your baby to be born alive.” We still needed time to think. 22 weeks was so early. There was a possibility that my water would break and she would make the decision for us. I could be put to sleep and a c-section would be performed with me unaware. I told Enrique if this happened that somebody needed to hold her, to not let her die alone. A magnesium drip was started and we tried to rest and think. Enrique and I decided to try and wait for a while. He asked me, “Do you feel sure about it?” And I said, “No.” He didn’t either. We were not at peace. If you have ever had a magnesium drip you will understand that it isn’t comfortable. I think I attribute my next actions to this drip, and also maybe the the Holy Spirit. A few hours into the Mag drip I started feeling panicky, I couldn’t rest. I asked to be checked again, no more dilation, still a solid 4cm. However, after I questioned the doctor for another round, I agreed to head to the OR. 

We were swarmed with doctors at this point. Two neonatologists spoke with us and asked what we would like to be done for the baby. They were not optimistic. They said that she would probably not survive delivery and if she did she would have hefty medical needs. I responded that, “I want her to have a shot.” I asked them to try and get an airway but if she did not respond that no CPR would be performed and to put her on my chest to die in my arms. 

The labor and delivery doctors also did not encourage me to try and save her. A kind doctor sat next to me and said, “If you wanted to have a vaginal delivery it would not be a selfish decision. You don’t have to go through with the surgery.” I said no. She told me it was my last selfless act for the baby. I also repeatedly confirmed that I wanted my tubes tied during the surgery. We were sure, no matter the outcome, that we were done having babies.

They wheeled me to the OR where they began to prep me for surgery. I was sitting up at the edge of the table waiting for the epidural to be placed. Everyone was very kind to me. The nurse asked me, “Does baby have a name?” And I told her “Naomi.” That is when the tears started and did not stop after that. The anesthesiologist wiped my tears with gauze for the entirety of the surgery.

The actual surgery took some time. They performed a low transverse incision on my abdomen but a classical incision on my uterus. They told me I had a lot of scar tissue. The OR was very quiet. Then they said, “She’s out.” We heard the tiniest cry. Enrique kept standing up to see them working on her and they repeatedly asked him to sit down. I could hear the monitor she was attached to. It beeps for every heartbeat and I could hear it slowing down. Painfully slow. I just held Enrique’s hand and I was praying, “Please, Jesus.” Quietly, but out loud. Then, it revved up. I don’t remember how I was told they got an airway and that she responded, but I know that after they told us Enrique broke down. He cried into my shoulder. After sometime they wheeled her out in an incubator next to me. The neonatologist stopped to tell me that her numbers looked great, better than expected. I was moved to recovery.

The 3 or 4 days I stayed at the hospital I would walk down to the NICU to see her. I always forgot how far it was until I was walking it. I was still in a bit of pain. I couldn’t bear to be next to her long. She was so tiny and fragile and we were far from out of the woods. But I would go in, every few hours, to take a peek at her. To make sure she was okay. I prayed Isaiah 40:29 over her, over and over. “He gives power to the weak and strength to the powerless.” I had never seen anything so weak and powerless in my life.

That was the beginning of our 202 day long NICU journey…until we were sent home on oxygen. I can say with confidence that the Lord DID provide through-out. We were given so much grace and service through meals and gifts and prayer and time and even monetary gifts. I appreciate our family, both physical and spiritual who dug in deep with us.

I don’t know why Naomi was spared and made into a miracle while my other two babies died. I know that my faith was deeply shaken by the whole experience, but that this past year, staying by my sick baby’s side has brought a lot of reconciliation between the Lord and I. I felt seen by Him for the first time in a long time. I was the one he left the 99 for- the same way I left my two healthy kids at home to be near the one who needed me most.