Dear Baby,
You are so precious to me. This pregnancy has been a wild ride. So wild, in fact, that it’s been hard to concentrate on the gift of you, so before you arrive (which could be any day or even any hour), I wanted to reflect a bit on how thankful I am for your life and how eager I am to know you.
I feel like I’ve been fighting for you since the day I found out you existed, and I won’t stop fighting for you until the day I die. On Friday evening, August 2nd, I took a pregnancy test because I had felt utterly exhausted all day, which only happens to me during early pregnancy. Sure enough, there you were in the form of two pink lines. However, this was suddenly complicated. I suffered two miscarriages in the months leading up to your conception, and my doctor was going to put me on progesterone if I got pregnant again to protect the baby. The only problem? It was Friday night and we were leaving for nearly three weeks of vacation on Sunday afternoon. How would I get the medicine I needed over a weekend?
After calling the nurse line for advice the night before, I made my way to Kaiser the following morning. I was hoping to get a quick blood draw and have an urgent care doctor write a prescription for progesterone. Instead, there were no notes in my chart regarding my recent miscarriages or my need for progesterone (even though two different doctors had looked at my charts and discussed it with me recently), and I ended up screaming and crying in the medical facility lobby. I was told I would have to go to the emergency room to get the help I needed. Once I arrived at the hospital, a doctor quickly and kindly got me the medicine, but the whole situation was infuriating and emotionally draining.
Our family set out on two and a half weeks of vacation – first at Forest Home Family Camp and then road-tripping up to Washington to visit family. You were our happy little secret at the time. We returned from our adventure and the hardest work season of my life started. I had taken on too many extra responsibilities for the fall semester, not knowing I would be newly pregnant and feeling awful. You and I fought through it together. Long days, short nights, always hunting for one more hour of sleep and food that sounded mildly appetizing.
We survived and entered into a sweet season of pregnancy. From weeks 13-20, things progressed smoothly. My work responsibilities eased up, I started feeling better, I took a wonderful trip to Chicago with my best friends, I started working out again, and we had our anatomy scan at 18 weeks.
Now that I was out of the early stages of pregnancy, my fear of another miscarriage subsided and I switched to the nurse-midwife team at Kaiser in hopes of a low-risk, low-intervention birth. Imagine my surprise when the midwife walked into my initial appointment and her first words were, “The results of your anatomy scan came back. The baby looks great. However, you have a complete previa. Your placenta is blocking your cervix. You have a 50/50 chance of a c-section. It might move; it might not. Until we check it again, you are on complete pelvic rest. No sex, no exercise, no heavy-lifting… you can’t even carry your two-year-old at home. With a previa, hemorrhaging is common. If you start bleeding, you need to go immediately to labor and delivery. There is a very good chance you could wind up on bed rest.”
Of course, I was so thankful that you were healthy. But for the next 16 weeks, I fought for you in a new way. I was careful with my body. I stopped working out right when I had begun to find my rhythm at the gym again. I had monthly ultrasounds to track your growth and to see if the previa had resolved. The results came back in January and February. No and no. The placenta was still stuck in the wrong place. The fear that had lingered in early pregnancy – the idea of seeing blood and losing you – returned again. Every day I wondered if I would start bleeding and need to rush to the hospital. Thankfully, God was gracious. There was never any blood.
I spent all of January, February, and half of March doing everything I could to get the placenta to move. Midwives and doulas suggested yoga poses and acupuncture. I began doing cat-cow and downward dog in my bedroom each day and getting acupuncture twice a week. I scanned the internet for stories and remedies for placenta previa and added some Chinese herbs to my daily supplements. I even started doing water handstands in the pool at the YMCA because I knew it helped flip breech babies and this seemed at least mildly similar. More than anything, I prayed that God would fix the situation. I was scared of the c-section, but I was more scared of pulling you out of me at 36 to 37 weeks as the doctors were recommending. I wanted you to stay in for as long as you wanted, plumping up and developing for the world outside the womb.
I finally found a doctor who was willing to wait on a c-section until after the 37-week mark. We scheduled the surgery for March 19th, and I began to prepare myself physically and mentally for this unknown form of birth. Increasing my iron intake, text chats with friends who have had c-sections, buying nightgowns that would allow for easy nursing without rubbing on my incision.
However, I got to have one last ultrasound the week before the c-section to check the placenta. I went into Kaiser on the morning of your dad’s birthday, not knowing I would be receiving the best gift. Afterward, I didn’t hear anything from my doctor for two whole days, so I assumed no news was no news and the c-section would take place the following week. But on Wednesday evening, I came downstairs to make dinner and noticed a voicemail from my doctor. Her message: “Good news… Your placenta moved! You can have a vaginal delivery. See you tomorrow at your appointment.” I could not believe it! After so many months of stretching and getting poked with needles and pleading, God had answered my prayers.
But now there was a new challenge… COVID-19. The nation was going on lockdown to prevent the spread of Coronavirus, and I was suddenly due with a baby in the middle of a global pandemic. The medical office started screening my temperature before appointments, and we learned that we could have no visitors at the hospital. Then it got worse. San Francisco and New York City hospitals began making women birth alone – without a spouse or partner present. I began asking for midwife recommendations from friends. If the hospital was going to make me deliver alone, I had to consider a home birth. There were also rumors circulating online that hospitals were trying to separate mothers and infants if the mom tested positive for COVID. I would not let that happen to us.
Finally, at my 38-week appointment, I gained some assurance. Kaiser was not making women birth alone (even at their Bay Area locations, I later found out). Micah could be with me the whole time; he just couldn’t leave and come back and, of course, we could have no other visitors. The thought of your sisters not getting to meet you in the hospital makes me sad, but I know we will have a beautiful celebration when we bring you home.
So now… we wait. Your Aunt Kayla arrived last Wednesday to watch the girls when I go into labor and to help out during our first few weeks after your arrival. You are going to love her. She’s the best. The day after Kayla arrived, I began to sense the anticipation of your arrival and it’s only grown day by day. I can’t wait for you to be here, but I love the suspense of not knowing when it’s going to happen. Every morning I wake up and wonder if it will be your birthday. In a world where it’s so easy to research anything and run tests and schedule an induction, I love all the surprises we have in store. We don’t know your sex or your name or your birthday, but God does, and I am enjoying being in the final chapters of this pregnancy. It has been a mysterious and, sometimes, strenuous adventure, but I am delighting in the days that will lead to you… our happy ending.
Love you always,
Mama
