These were the words my nine-year-old uttered as we drove home from the hospital tonight. Emma has opened her eyes, she will be on full-feeds tomorrow if she has no residuals during the night, and her IV lines will be removed if she continues to progress. She has done so well, in such a short time. I know this is far from over - but, it does seem, "our patience will be rewarded".
Man is not the product of chance. Man is made in the image of God ...On the basis of this revelation - the Bible and the revelation of God through Christ - there is not ultimate silence in the universe, and there are certainties of human values and moral values and categories to distinguish between illusion and fantasy. And there is a reason why man is man. But not for these modern people with a humanist position. Francis A Schaeffer, How Should We Then Live?
Friday, May 29, 2009
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
This is Emma's hand and foot next to my hand. Tiny, but perfect. Her perfection amazes me. Each day is a tense uphill battle, filled with so many possibilities of things that could go wrong. And yet she perseveres. That little heart keeps beating strongly, those tiny lungs continue to fight for life. And I long for the day when I can be on the other side of the glass, in the main NICU, where transition to home begins. I know that day is far in the future, and the future is very uncertain. But, today I held her against me, and she was warm and content and ... alive. And I believe that one day, I will hold her on the other side of the glass - minus the IVs, minus the ventilator, minus whatever machinery is assisting her today - and I will only be hours away from having my baby home with me, where she belongs. The NICU is an amazing place, staffed by angels on earth. And the isolette that does its best to mimic my womb is keeping my baby warm and oxygenated and safe. But there has never been a place I dread going to more, a place I fear more, a place that sends my heart racing with trepidation and panic, while yearning for stability to return to my life ... I want to never need that place again. But, Dear God, thank you for its existence.
Saturday, May 23, 2009
Two Weeks ...
Two weeks have passed since my life became "pre-Emma" and our new reality. Emma was still alive the following Saturday morning, and we decided to opt for a "safer" C-section delivery. Her viability would be determined by the neonatologist, who would assess her. I knew I could do nothing more than give her the chance at life. That is a very difficult position to be in as a parent - impotent, dependent upon others, praying desperately that this child would be strong enough to survive the terrible odds against her. The option of allowing my body to go into labor naturally, and delivering a baby that was sure to not survive the birth process was no longer a consideration for me. Perhaps if her heart had stopped beating during the night - but it had not. Instead, she was still with me, as if to say, "I can do this, Mom - just have faith."
Saturday, May 16, 2009
One Week Ago ...
FRIDAY, MAY 15, 2009:
One week ago, today, I went to get our usual Friday night pizza dinner.
One week ago, today, my water broke as I stood up to get out of the car.
One week ago, today, I drove myself to the ER, and told my Mom to take the pizza on home.
One week ago, today, I walked into the ER, barely able to get the words out to the receptionist, and heard her say, "Oh, no ..."
One week ago, today, I lay on a stretcher in the small town ER, ill-equipped to maintain the premature infant I might deliver at any time, awaiting transport to a bigger hospital 45 minutes away.
One week ago, today, I was told the Advanced Life Support ambulance was prepared to deliver the baby en-route.
One week ago, today, I was transported by ALS, in rush-hour traffic, at 70 miles per hour, riding on the rumble strips, in a desperate attempt to get me to the other hospital before the baby came.
One week ago, today, I was told an infection had invaded my uterus, all my amniotic fluid was gone, and there was no way to stave off my baby's premature birth.
One week ago, today, I lay flat on a stretcher, surrounded by a perinatologist, a neonatologist, an obstetrician/surgeon, a nurse practitioner who specializes in neonates, and various residents, all who viewed and reviewed my baby's ultrasound, of diminished quality due to the lack of amniotic fluid. At stake was her "viability", as her gestational age was questionable.
One week ago, today, the difference between 23 weeks and 24 weeks became of utmost importance - the difference between life and death.
One week ago, today, it was determined that my life was at risk if I continued to clot from the placenta that had failed, and was breaking off inside me. Unplugging all monitors and letting me rest, was determined the best course of action in light of the baby's "pre-viability".
One week ago, today, I was told we would listen for a heart beat in the morning, but it was most likely that my little girl would be gone, unable to sustain herself without the sustenance of placenta and fluid that had been her protection until 4 p.m. Friday, May 8, 2009.
One week ago, today, I went to get our usual Friday night pizza dinner.
One week ago, today, my water broke as I stood up to get out of the car.
One week ago, today, I drove myself to the ER, and told my Mom to take the pizza on home.
One week ago, today, I walked into the ER, barely able to get the words out to the receptionist, and heard her say, "Oh, no ..."
One week ago, today, I lay on a stretcher in the small town ER, ill-equipped to maintain the premature infant I might deliver at any time, awaiting transport to a bigger hospital 45 minutes away.
One week ago, today, I was told the Advanced Life Support ambulance was prepared to deliver the baby en-route.
One week ago, today, I was transported by ALS, in rush-hour traffic, at 70 miles per hour, riding on the rumble strips, in a desperate attempt to get me to the other hospital before the baby came.
One week ago, today, I was told an infection had invaded my uterus, all my amniotic fluid was gone, and there was no way to stave off my baby's premature birth.
One week ago, today, I lay flat on a stretcher, surrounded by a perinatologist, a neonatologist, an obstetrician/surgeon, a nurse practitioner who specializes in neonates, and various residents, all who viewed and reviewed my baby's ultrasound, of diminished quality due to the lack of amniotic fluid. At stake was her "viability", as her gestational age was questionable.
One week ago, today, the difference between 23 weeks and 24 weeks became of utmost importance - the difference between life and death.
One week ago, today, it was determined that my life was at risk if I continued to clot from the placenta that had failed, and was breaking off inside me. Unplugging all monitors and letting me rest, was determined the best course of action in light of the baby's "pre-viability".
One week ago, today, I was told we would listen for a heart beat in the morning, but it was most likely that my little girl would be gone, unable to sustain herself without the sustenance of placenta and fluid that had been her protection until 4 p.m. Friday, May 8, 2009.
Monday, May 4, 2009
And now, the individuals who comprise the class of 2009-2010 ...
This is our class clown. He will be studying Sonlight 3/4. Now, this is geared for a younger age, but I believe it to be the perfect fit for Kindergarten. It has fairy tales, lots of picture books, and short stories for short attention spans. After much thought, I decided to give him his own 45-minutes in the morning and again in the afternoon, and it went well today. He is also doing Horizons Math, Queens' Language Lessons, and Explode the Code.
My oldest is studying independently, intent on completing some advanced placement courses prior to the new year and beginning college next January. We are all studying different things, and hoping it will work out. Combining just didn't appeal to the kids this year based on their interests. I have made much use out of my Homeschool Tracker program over our break, planning out all 36 weeks. We will see how it all goes. Wish us luck, and see if we are still smiling in our end-of-the-year pictures! There will be an addition to the family in the next few months, in between terms (how fortuitous!). Things may get complicated and disorganized without proper planning and the implementation of good habits now. So that is my goal for each of the kids, and I will do my part to keep on schedule. Organization is the key, and that is what I have done - organize, organize, organize.
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