My Own Little Miracle
Miracles are funny things. Some people don’t even believe in them. I do. I became pregnant with my first baby eight years ago. I had a really rough time and that is putting it mildly. I suffered from hyperemises gravidarum. Little was known about it then. Basically I was sick every day my entire pregnancy. I lived off applesauce and mashed potatoes. I had been hospitalized 13 times. It’s bad when the nurses at the hospital know you by name; you skip the emergency room, and go straight to a room that is already reserved for you. I never gained any weight, I wore my regular street clothes the entire time, and in fact I lost 32 pounds. At one point I was asked if I was a “druggy” because my arms had tracks from the needles and IV’s.
I began labor three times. The doctors stopped my labor the first time when I was about 19 weeks along. I didn’t tell the doctors about the second time. I woke up with contractions, walked around and used a heating pad. The contractions stopped. The third time I went into labor I had my daughter. I was only 27 weeks along. My labor lasted three hours. She was small; two pounds two ounces.
The chaos in the room was crazy. As soon as my daughter was born she was whisked away. I didn’t get to see her until she had a tube down her throat to help her breathe. They placed her on my belly for two seconds before taking her to the neonatal intensive care unit. Four hours passed before I saw her again. Tubes and monitors were everywhere.
The next few months were touch and go. Her heart would stop, she stopped breathing, she had two blood transfusions, and lost a pound of her body weight. I remeber standing over her incubator sobbing, the tears dripped from my face and rolled down the glass of her incubator. Seeing her there was almost unbearable, but I managed to go see her everyday.
My daughter finally came home after being in the hospital for four months. She came home on a heart monitor and a lot of medications. IT was scary when she would stop breathing or her heart stopped. We sent the heart monitor back when she was a year old. At that time she was only wearing clothes for a six month old.
On the flip side, my daughter is now a vibrant, brilliant eight year old. Amazingly, she doesn’t have any delays or defects. Sure, it could have been the new technology that science has to offer today, or the excellent skills possessed by the doctors and nurses that kept my baby alive. It could have even been the fact that 100’s of people across the nation had been praying for her. I like to think that it was my own little miracle.
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