The Story of Daniel
No, really. It was.
It was Sunday, June 10th.
We had gone to church that morning, though I was extremely uncomfortable. I had been contracting regularly since the Wednesday before.
There was a baby shower that afternoon for a friend who was about to have her first baby – also a boy.
After the shower, we went to gram and gramp’s house to decide what to do.
Should I go into the hospital to get checked? Contractions were five minutes apart.
Or should I wait till the next morning to see my doctor.
We decided to go to the hospital. I knew I wanted an epidural, and I did not want to wait until it was too late to have one.
No rush, though.
We went to Wal-mart and ran some errands.
All the while we were doing that, the skies were getting darker and darker.
We made plans by phone for Patty to care for the boys at our house so mom could be at the hospital.
While Joe was in the store, the sky opened up and a torrential downpour released from the heavens.
No exaggeration.
By the time we made it home, the tornado sirens were going off, so we grabbed the bottled water, flashlights, a radio, the kids and the dog and huddled in the basement until the wailing sirens were quiet once more.
Patty would be on her way, but the storm had her stuck at home, and mom watched the boys until she arrived.
Joe and I went on ahead to get there and get settled, or be told to go home and wait – we didn’t know for sure which it would be.
On the way to the hospital, we were detoured by a flood, and we had to go way out of the way to get to the hospital.
When we got there, I was put in a very small room and hooked up to monitors.
Let me tell you about this room. I’ve been in some closets that were bigger!
The rain continued to pour out of the sky.
I was comfortable, and Joe and I talked, easy, light conversation
I was dilated to a 4, but since I move along quickly, and I wanted the pain relief, they admitted me.
“You’ll leave here with your baby boy!” the nurse said.
Did I mention it was raining?
So hard, in fact, that a part of the ceiling tile in the room I was laboring in crashed to the ground and rain water went splattering everywhere!
I told you I wasn’t exaggerating.
Apparently, the roof was leaking, and the top floor of the hospital was flooded, and the rain water was running down to the floors below.
Mom arrived, and after surveying the room and the soggy mess of ceiling tiles on the floor, asked if I would be moved to another room or if I would have to stay there.
I was moved to a very nice room. It looked more like a hotel than a hospital room. If I wasn’t in labor and having pain, I could have easily mistaken it for a vacation.
Ah, yes. The pain.
I know, you’re thinking . . . "But I thought she was going to have an epidural."
Yes.
I was.
I had been saying that from the moment I walked onto the unit. I made no bones about the fact that I was not going to buck up and take it like a woman; I wanted my pain meds, thank you very much.
Well, before they called the anesthesiologist (what took them so long, I’ll never know) a stab wound victim came in and she was busy working on him. That’s right. One anesthesiologist in the whole hospital. Of course, it was about 12:45 a.m. at this point. But still.
I was moving so quickly at this point, the nurse informed me I would not have time for the epidural.
This, I explained, was never an option.
They gave me staidall, which makes you really tired, but does not lessen the pain at all, in my opinion.
I was getting ready to push, and the nurse told me they would do the epidural at that time if I really wanted one since the “make-me-feel-good” doctor was done with the stab victim.
Now, generally, this is not done. Once you reach a certain point, that’s it. No meds.
But I kept saying, between contractions and silent tears, “This was never an option for me!” I think the nurses took pity. Or wanted me to stop whining.
So there I was, dilated to a 9, almost 10, and getting ready to push, and I was getting poked in the back.
Boy, did I love that!
After it was over, I was ready to go.
About 15 minutes later, at around 2:46 a.m., Daniel was born!
He was so wet and slimy and absolutely gorgeous!
I got to hold him for a while, but he wasn’t breathing right, so they took him to the nursery.
I got cleaned up and settled, and went to sleep.
The next morning, I was told that Daniel was not breathing well on his own, and would have to stay in an isolette until he could breathe room air unassisted.
He was about five weeks early, which is par for the course, as far as my births go. Isaac was six and a half weeks early and Josiah was three.
The nurse didn’t think it was serious, so he was not transported to the NICU at another nearby hospital.
It brought back so many memories of when Isaac was born. More on that at the end of the month!
I went to see him in the nursery.
There he was – so much hair and it was sticking up all over. His eyes were open and he was just lying there, peaceful and content. He was looking around. I held his hand. It was so tiny. I loved him more and more every minute I looked at him.
Fifteen hours after being kept in an isolette, Daniel was wheeled into our room in a bassinet.
Two day later, on Wednesday, June 13, we brought him home.
Grandma and grandpa were there waiting for us.
Grandma was catching us up on laundry, and was so anxious to hold the baby, which she did for hours.
I miss her so much.
Especially today.
She loved those boys!
Daniel was born between two very big losses for our family. His little life has already brought so much healing and happiness. And while I know he was given as a gift at a very difficult time, I know there is so much more to it than that. God has a plan for him that goes beyond all my conceptions, hopes and dreams.
It has been the greatest joy, the hardest test, the most fulfilling job, the most incredible fun, and the most absolutely tiring all rolled together, raising three energetic boys.
I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world!!
Happy Birthday, little man!
He kept wanting to climb up it.
Boys!
Strange photographs of Josiah are afoot! (Pun definitely intended.)
After running some errands, we headed to grandpa’s for a family birthday meal together.
The boys played outside some.
Is this one handsome little monkey, or what?
There was cake and pudding.
What's that up there? 
It's a bird! It's a plane!
It's . . . birthday balloons!
In fact, I didn’t get a shot of the cake until it was almost half eaten. It said “Happy 1st Birthday Daniel.”
He had no idea what today was all about, but he loved all the festivities.
We will have another party for him Sunday afternoon with friends from church.
I kept looking at him today, remembering one year ago.
Not wanting him to be one yet; yet loving the little man he is, and is becoming.
3 comments:
That is such a great story!Daniel has definatly brought me so much joy every time that I see him. I can already tell that he is such an important little man and that he is going to help out in God's ultimate plan.
I can't believe Daniel was in there for 15 hours! How long were you in labor? God has so much in store for Daniel. I still can't believe he is one! I remember you craving chalk when you were pregnant. I'm pretty sure the whole class thought that was funny.
-shelden
Yeah! Chalk! I remember that. I'm not sure what I was lacking that made me want to do that! But I had it bad. I wanted to eat it all the time! You know, it couldn't be a normal craving with me!!
Post a Comment