I did not know Michelle until there was some blogger internet drama but over the last few weeks I have been getting to know her. Two things about her I have come to know is that she loves her children fiercely and she has become an advocate for parents and their children who have Congenital Heart Defects or CHD. I wanted her to share her c-section story here this month because I want people to know that even if the outcome after a surgical birth is not what we had planned or wanted, that the journey of giving birth by any mode can be a very spiritual experience.
Let me preface this story by saying sharing that a Cesarean section saved my life. If I hadn’t been at such a wonderful hospital, where an entire NICU team worked diligently on my son, he would have died before I had a chance to see him alive, and hold hope in my heart. This is our story.
When the nurse pulled the bed pad from underneath me, and I saw it was soaked in blood, I knew what was happening.
I was 28 weeks pregnant with my second baby, our first son. We were already blessed with a beautiful daughter, Sadie, who was just as excited as we were to be welcoming a new baby into our home.
Early on that cool June morning I woke my husband in a panic, “My water broke!” And within minutes we were on our way to the Univeristy of Chicago Hospital, hopeful yet so incredibly scared.
After I saw the blood-soaked pad, I asked the nurses and doctors - who had gathered in my labor and delivery room - the question that I already knew the answer to. My placenta had started to detach. I was bleeding out. They had to deliver our precious, baby Sawyer.
It was 6:30 when my husband, Erik, finally arrived back at the hospital. He had left earlier in the day to gather some things from home after I was admitted and things appeared to be under control.
He rushed in and was overcome with relief that he made it in time to witness the birth of our son. While Erik was gone, however, several anesthesiologists explained to me the dangers of performing the csection while I was awake. Since I had received my lovenox injection earlier in the day (a blood-thinning medication used in pregnancy with women who have clotting disorders) it was too dangerous to do an epidural or spinal.
Equally dangerous, they explained, was putting a woman under anesthesia for a c-section.
After the doctors consulted with each other while waiting for blood to arrive from the bank – it was decided around 7:30 that they couldn’t wait any longer – and I was going to have the baby. Alone, under anesthesia and without my husband by my side.
The doctor, anesthesiologists and nurses left the room to give Erik and me a few moments alone before the surgery. After everything I was told, I knew what I had to say to Erik. You would think it would be the hardest thing I’d ever have to do in my life, but a feeling of calm and peace came over me as I took my husband’s hand to tell him goodbye.
I told Erik that if I didn’t make it, to do all the things we wanted to do with Sadie and Sawyer. I asked him to promise me to take them to the mountains and to let them know that I’d always be there to watch over them. Erik asked me to stop talking like that, but I honestly thought at that moment, I was going to die. And that I wanted him to know how much I loved him and how much I loved my babies.
A few minutes later, a huge group of people came in to take me to the OR and I kissed Erik goodbye. I wasn’t scared or nervous – at all. And to this day, I don’t know how or why I felt the way I did.
When we got into the OR – they asked me to move from the bed onto a smaller table. I layed flat on the operating table as they strapped my arms down for surgery and began prepping my stomach for the delivery. I closed my eyes and the anesthesiologist put an oxygen mask over my nose and mouth.
Suddenly, I was blanketed with pure, white light and a feeling of warmth I have never experienced in my entire life. It was so beautiful. So peaceful and pefect. I wasn’t under any kind of anesthesia or medications at this point so I know that what was happening to me was real and that I wasn’t crazy. Soon, I felt a tear roll down the side of my face as I was consumed by the warmth of this purity and light.
Minutes later, my doctor said I would start to feel the medicine working and that I would go to sleep. This light and warmth that had come to me just moments earlier – never went away and was with me during the entire procedure.
When I woke up from the surgery I saw Erik on my right, my mom and sister on my left in recovery. I called for my mom to come over, took her hand and told her what I saw.
While I was enveloped in this light, a baby came to me. I knew it wasn’t Sawyer – and I told my mom it was James – her second son. The baby she lost at birth over 40 years ago. With tears rolling down my face, I told everyone what I had seen, and that James had come to watch over Sawyer.
Now I know, that James was there to take Sawyer home. And I know that I saw everything Sawyer saw, because he was still inside of me when God came to take him home.
Our beautiful baby boy, Sawyer, was born with a rare congenital heart defect – Tetralogy of Fallot with Pulmonary Atresia- and died nearly two days after his birth. The NICU team did chest compressions to get his heart beating immediately after birth. He was born without a heartbeat. Limp and gray.
One of the only things that gets me through all of this is knowing that what I saw and experienced before and during the c-section was completely real. It was so real that there are almost no words to describe it. And I know that when Erik and I were faced with that heartbreaking choice of taking Sawyer off of all forms of support – that he would be safe in the grace of God’s love and light.
Every night when I go to sleep, I close my eyes to try and imagine that light again, to feel that warmth and love. And I can’t. Part of me wonders if I was supposed to go with Sawyer while the other part of me is thankful to God that I’m here now with my husband and daughter.
Sawyer is home now. He is free from the pain and suffering. He will always be loved and I know he has his wings. Angel, you were born to fly. I love you Sawyer – for all eternity.
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This Saturday there will be “A Walk To Remember” in Chicago, IL - A day of remembrance for pregnancy loss and infant death which includes but is not limited to miscarriage, stillbirth, SIDS, or the death of a newborn – October 16th, 2010 at McKinley Woods – Kerry Sheridan Grove in Channahon
