On October 3rd, almost a month early, we welcomed Parker Lyle into our family. Even now my heart nearly bursts at the thought. Parker has been my miracle from the beginning. I had known there was another little boy waiting to come into our family since Tanner was born. We ended up having two little girls and Kyle had decided they were our last. But I knew about Parker. I knew he was waiting. I even had a dream where he asked me why I hadn’t let him come yet. I continued to fight for him and eventually Kyle agreed to try for that little boy. Pregnancy makes nerves raw in our home. They’ve been nightmarish for me.
Strangely, even though I was sick, it was nothing compared to my first four pregnancies. I was able to stay on my feet. I had similar kidney problems to the ones I had when pregnant with the girls, only worse. I was monitored closely. In September things started to go wrong. Parker’s head stopped growing and he wasn’t moving as he should. I was put in the hospital and released again on multiple occasions. Depending on which nurses tended to my care, which utlrasound techs ran my tests, and my doctor’s mood, things were labeled anywhere from “a problem and something’s not quite right” to “everything looks good, we’re sending you home.” I knew something was wrong and nobody was listening.
The day before Parker was born the ultrasound tech at my doctor’s office (whom I love) once again told him there was a problem. Parker’s head was still not growing. My amniotic fluid levels were lower. Parker failed the ultrasound again . . . he wasn’t moving enough. The doctor phoned the hospital and sent me over. I had an amazing nurse who was watching closely. I was already dilated to 4cm and she was sure I’d be delivering by morning. Parker wasn’t reacting well to strong contractions (I’d been contracting steadily for about 2 months). There was no way I was going home.
The next morning came, along with a change in nurses. They sent me down to ultrasound. The ultrasound tech shook me and rolled me and shook me and rolled me again. After 29 1/2 minutes Parker shrugged his little shoulder (they have 30 minutes to detect movement). She declared, “Just in time! Everything looks great! You’re probably going home!” as if I would be as excited as she was. No. I told Kyle I wasn’t going. Back in my room he got into it with my new nurse. She had called my doctor with the “good news” and they were discharging me. Kyle demanded that our discharge paperwork indicate that we were going against our will. He wanted it documented that we were telling them something was wrong with our baby and that they weren’t listening. She looked nervous then and got our doctor on the phone. He told her to have me come by the office.
Oh brother. Not again. Something’s wrong. I was silently praying with everything I had. Please, get my baby out.
They did an in office ultrasound with my usual tech. Parker failed again. “How did the hospital get you to pass that ultrasound this morning? Something’s still not right.” I told her how they managed it. She was angry. She went out to talk to my doctor. He did an NST (which also detected no movement from Parker) and came to talk to me. He decided he wasn’t thrilled with how the “positive results” of my ultrasound were derived. He was sending me back again. It was time. I demanded new nurses.
In the end they gave us the head nurse. I think the hospital thought we were whiny, difficult patients who were causing trouble and were “just sick of being pregnant.” They questioned me about the previous stay and got me hooked up to be induced. I could tell they didn’t really believe me still, but the doctor was delivering so their hands were kind of tied.
I was in full labor within minutes of being induced. Nothing took long at all. They were a little bit stunned. “Looks like your body was ready after all.” Yeah, well, no kidding. I think I said that.
Not long after I heard the sweet cry of my baby boy. My Parker was here. I’ve never been more relieved to see the sweet face of one of my children looking up at me.
They took Parker and started taking care of business like they always do.
A month early and still 6 lbs. 7 oz. and a head full of amazing hair. That’s a Walker baby for you.
Pretty soon I noticed that the nurses were exchanging concerned glances. This is my 5th baby. I’m not an idiot. “What?” I said. No response. “Seriously, what!?” The whole top of Parker’s head was soft. No one was sure what to make of it. They also decided that he needed to be on an IV because of being early for low blood sugar. Off to the NICU for Parker.
On top of all of that, the doctor was having trouble getting my placenta to release. He was trying for what seemed like forever. He said we’d have to do surgery if he couldn’t get it. Eventually, to my relief, it released. And there was the biggest shock of all. It was 2/3 the size it should have been and it was nearly dead. It was calcifying. There was the problem. My doctor stared at it. “Looks like we got this guy out just in time. This explains why he wasn’t growing.” Just. In. Time. I can’t explain the feeling to you. I want to, but I can’t. I don’t have the appropriate words to describe my fear at knowing he needed to come out and having no one listen. And I most certainly don’t have the ability to put words to the realization that my sweet baby boy would have died in a day or two if we hadn’t fought tooth and nail to get someone to let him come out early. The words just aren’t there. Almost a year later and the words still won’t come. I wish doctors and nurses would listen more to mothers.
He hated the NICU and so did this mother. They kept pumping him full of formula to “keep his blood sugar up” just to have him throw it all up. They were feeding him too much and he just wanted to nurse. Then he didn’t want to nurse because they were making him too full.
They kept trying to send me back to my room. Not a chance. A day out of there and everything went back to normal.
They decided to do a CAT scan on his little head. There were too many unanswered questions. If I thought I was praying before that they’d get this little guy of mine out, those prayers only intensified while I waited for what felt like a verdict. And good news. His tests look good. His brain developed normally. For whatever reason, his skull didn’t close off where it should have. It will. Give it a few weeks. My baby was okay. He was healthy. He was going to get to go home soon.
Get me out of this joint, Mom. Gladly, son. Gladly.
Even now, when I think about all that it took to get Parker safely here, my heart overflows with gratitude to my Father in Heaven. He sent one of the sweetest boys to our home and He helped us get him here safely. They ran pathology tests on my placenta. They don’t know what happened. Parker is our miracle. He’s my miracle. I will never stop being grateful for his miraculous entrance or his miraculous life. Welcome to our family, Parker. I love you to the moon and back.
No comments:
Post a Comment