I Believe in Miracles!

This past week we celebrated Eva's First birthday. It is hard to believe that a year has gone by...so quickly.

In February, we had the opportunity to listen to an author, Leif Enger, at our local library. You might remember that Leif wrote an amazing book, Peace Like a River, in the which he entwines Christian faith with the remarkable journey of a family in trouble. Mr. Enger said, "Miracles aren't commonplace anymore." I disagree. I believe we do not acknowledge miracles or "see" them as we ought to or as they have been told about in years past so they seem less frequent then they really are. Miriam Webster dictionary online says a Miracle is:

1: an extraordinary event manifesting divine intervention in human affairs

2: an extremely outstanding or unusual event, thing, or accomplishment

We experienced a miracle (maybe plural) in our family this past year and I am still in awe of it. We were told in early August 2009 that due to current blood work, "it is impossible for you to get pregnant." Little did we know that I was either pregnant or shortly to become pregnant at the time. It was in the Lord's hands.

Before Eva was born, we were given hints as to her delivery. I took supplemental hormones, read up on healthy diets, prayed, read some more, received medical care and regular check ups and finally followed an instinct (because of irregularly LONG umbilical cords in pregnancies number three and five) to pay for a late ultrasound; which showed very little other than she was head down, with hair.

Joe's mom said to me last Easter, "Julie, if this ends in a C-section...it's not that bad."

I was reading a book recommended to me by my certified nurse midwife called Birthing From Within. This book describes the emotional, physical, and spiritual preparation and "worry" that we mothers do before giving birth. This book also spoke of a c-section under certain circumstances and offered ways of "healing from" and creating your own imagined birth experience at home after delivery.

Miracles do not happen until after the trial of your faith. I guess that is what a fractured spine and days of hard contractions do a few days before labor...become a trial of faith.

My water broke around 2:00 a.m. on the morning of a scheduled induction. We drove to the hospital in gently falling snow. (A deja vu of traveling to the hospital with birth number four in late January 2007).

Joe and I were placed in a hospital room apart from others laboring at the end and far side of Labor and Delivery but also twelve feet from an operating room.

Labor was augmented and late morning I was given an epidural when the baby was not descending and dilation was slow.

We were assigned a Nurse Midwife in whom I had complete trust. Around 1:00 p.m. she came into our suite with an older Midwife trailing her

"We have found a pattern (on your monitors) and it is not a good one." She explained that every time I had a contraction the baby's heart beat dropped dramatically. Joe and I watched the monitor as a contraction came and the baby's heartbeat dropped 100 beats and stalled before recovering.

Things began to happen quickly then. I used gravity to assist me in delivering my baby. An oxygen mask was put over my mouth to help the baby. The respiratory therapist, head nurse, and other specialists began to fill my room.

My father, a pediatrician, called on the phone and Joe patiently mentioned that things "were not looking good for the baby and that I had been put on oxygen." My father left his patients, packed a bag, and drove immediately to the hospital.

An OB just happened to be at a nursing station filling out reports from earlier births when he was needed to come into my room and assist in Eva's emergency delivery. (our assigned OB was in a neighboring city--at least 15 minutes away). He came in and immediately ordered a vacuum. He asked me to "push with everything you've got if you want this baby to be born alive." He began to count and I pushed with each strong contraction while vacuum and forceps failed.

A male nurse came to the head of my bed. At a signal from the doctor my bed was rocketed from my room, bumped the nursing station desk, and into the O.R. The bed was taken so quickly, Joseph was left outside the sealed doors, as the medical troupe began to prep for surgery inside.

An anesthesiologist came to my head as curtains were being placed and my stomach chemically cleaned. He said, "I may not have time to do a local..." and he turned back to his tray. I looked up and the doctor had sliced and little pink Eva (meaning Life) was lifted up and out screaming before a collective sigh went out around the room and a blue curtain was raised across my abdomen.

The doctor mentioned that she had had an EIGHT inch cord that was wrapped around her neck (a nuchal cord complete 360 degrees tied around). She was not able to descend more than an inch or two.

I struggled to breath, tears falling down my face, and a nurse shouted, "Where is the father? Bring him in!" Joe came around the curtain and held Eva bundled up tightly as I was stitched back together.

My emotions were torn--I was grateful for the Life of my little infant and yet unhappy to have had my labor end in a such a dramatic way; unlike the gentle, safe birth I had pictured for myself and my unborn babe.

Still, I read and search and marvel--"eight inch cord." (Stanford Medical School suggests most cords as 22-27 inches long. Eight inch cords are typically associated with babies who have neurological trouble and die shortly after birth.) In this pregnancy, I measured my largest and yet Eva was my smallest baby by far, weighing in at 6 pounds 7 ounces. I heaped on guilt.

After birth, her challenges continued as she lost weight and struggled for many months before getting fat little thighs and cheeks. Today she is 30% for height, 20% weight, and 80% for head. She's a thinker for sure.

Our little miracle is talking now. She is sweet and strong and delights us by saying, "p(l)ease, p(l)ease," with her palm up asking for anything she wants.

Happy First Birthday, Eva. You are my Life!

Eva on Joe's lap around three months old. Eva around six months old. Eva at eight months.

Eva on Easter Saturday, 12 months old.