i’m in the newborn fog. tired. worn. and over-joyed.
the month has flown by.
our lucie kate entered the world on june 1st.
hi lucie, we adore you.
miracle after miracle.
lucie came two days before her scheduled c section.
our family was busy. may was full. and i was so big. beyond big. and beyond uncomfortable.
emri and ben were in a wedding days before lucie’s due date.
here are a few pictures of emri and samuel
from the rehearsal day.
beautiful day. beautiful couple.
we had no idea that lucie kate would be here the next day.
my body, tired.
with this pregnancy i’ve carried a bit of anxiety. my fear in this pregnancy has been uteran rupture, since my last c section wasn’t too long ago.
my anxiety in all this compelled me to ask several women in my life to send me scripture they cling to when they are fearful or nervous.
beautiful, powerful verses from each woman came piling in. verses that anchored these women, began to anchor mine.
i wrote the verses in a book and carried them with me.
the day kyle and anna got married, we were running around the house trying to gather everything we needed for the wedding day.
i was giving emri a bath preparing to get her all primped up when i started feeling an unfamiliar pain from what seemed like my previous c section scar.
i was sure that it was nothing.
it wasn’t a great time to rush to the hospital to see if everything was okay, after all… the pain wasn’t terrible. even so, that morning i called the dr. on call. he told me to come in.
i sent ben, samuel, and emri to the wedding.
my mom went to the hospital with me.
we waited. and waited. and waited.
no one seemed to be concerned about the possibility of uterine rupture.
as soon as they put the monitor on my belly, i started having mild contractions. one after the other.
i wasn’t in labor. but i was contracting consistently. and that is why they didn’t send me home.
they tried everything to get me to stop contracting so they could send me home.
the sound of lucie’s heart swooshing on the monitor comforted me as i lay there.
the mild contractions kept me there. for 9 hours they kept me there.
right when i thought they were about to send me home, the dr. on call said he would deliver lucie that night.
as soon as i heard the news i cried.
i called ben.
they were just about to introduce the bridal party into the reception.
tears. “ben can you make it here in an hour? they are going to do a c section in an hour!”
ben, much like superman, gathered samuel and emri and rushed to the hospital.
they moved me into the cold operating room, the place i feared.
my heart pounding. body trembling. telling myself this happens every day.
its normal. i look around the room, everyone casually doing their thing.
i get my epideral. the young anastesiologist pokes me several times. with pokes that feel like a daggar in my back. i scream out loud on accident. the nurse bear hugs me. someone had to come behind her and help. they finally place the epidural.
they lay me down. i soon can’t feel my legs. i get the “panicky” feeling. i tell myself its fine and not to think about it.
ben walks into the room dressed in operating garb.
peace wraps around me as i he walks over to me. the presense of jesus in ben calms me as he holds my hand.
ben is excited and smiling. he talks casually to me as my heart pounds and i feel the pressure of the team of doctors and nurses pull at my insides.
i can’t focus on what he is saying but the sound of his voice is calming.
they pull her from my body and i see nothing but a blue drape. i hear her cry.
the sound of her cry as she breathes air into her lungs for the first time sends me to tears.
they bring her to me and her face is chubby, swollen, and red. her face is all scrunched up underneath her little hat and i weep.
the doctor comes over to me. he’s very serious. he puts his hand on my shoulder and tells me that my uterus had been wide open and the only thing keeping me and lucie protected was the amniotic sack.
had they sent me home, my uterus would have most likely ruptured.
survival rates of uterine ruptures for mom and baby outside of a hospital are not good.
another miracle after miracle.
we drank up baby lucie and brought her home.
i look back and see how he kept his hand on me and my baby.
i sit here exhausted and over-joyed. i retell the story to remember. to practice gratitude. and recount the faithfulness of God in my life.
He is here. He reigns. and He is bringing good news.
this is the hope of what Jesus is bringing us.
he protected me and lucie as my body was failing during its last few days of pregnancy.
he healed my body when i thought i could no longer have children.
these battles have been won in my life. they point to the hope and healing of Jesus and the good news he is bringing us.
not all battles are won here. but the war has been won. its finished. and good news awaits us all.
we ache in the inbetween and we celebrate the hope of what will be.
he is healing us. he is protecting us. he is making us new.
bringing a newborn home is euphoric.
her skin. the weight of her tiny warm body in my arms. the glow of her baby skin. the thin tiny eyelashes that float back and forth when she drifts to sleep. those tiny yawns.
my quiver is full. my cup is running over.
surely goodness and mercy has followed me all the days of my life-