On the night of May 27th, we put our Lucy girl to bed for the last time before we became a family of four. My parents arrived to stay the night. They wished us well and we said a teary goodbye.
We opened the garage and our neighbors cheered for us. Zach honked the horn and we waved.
“Here we go,” I said to Zach, as I breathed a big sigh and wiped the tears from my eyes. I was on my way to have our second baby in the middle of a global pandemic.
I had spent the last few months of pregnancy isolated. Other than a few trips back and forth to see my parents and doctor’s visits, we hadn’t been anywhere. It was going to be our first night away from Lucy ever. We felt like we were going on vacation.
We were supposed to check-in at 9 and we arrived at 9:15. We called the front desk and they directed us to park in the ER lot and enter through that entrance. We walked up, bags in tow. They took our temperatures and gave us masks.
I had been tested for COVID a few days prior to going to the hospital. I did a drive-thru test and it felt like a scene from the movie Contagion. I drove up and a medical staff member directed me where to go. I rolled down my window to a nurse dressed in a hazmat suit with a face shield on. With her gloved hands, she inserted a long q-tip like object into my nose and swabbed around for 30 seconds. Longest 30 seconds of my life, but worth the brief discomfort to know that the caution we had been taking was working because I tested negative.
After we checked in at the ER desk, a security guard led us through back hallways to the maternity ward. The lighting in the narrow hallways was dim and a few spare empty hospital beds were lying around. The atmosphere was eery and it seemed as though we were the only people in the whole hospital.
We arrived at the maternity ward. The security guard was buzzed in and he showed us to the check-in desk. I filled out the forms and we were led to our room where the induction process would begin. Zach set up his chair that folded out into a bed. I got cozy in my hospital gown with my IV. The wires from the fetal heart monitor laid beside me. Amidst all of the unknowns, I took comfort in the feeling of familiarity. I knew what needed to be done and I was safely where I needed to be to do it. My plan was to pop this baby out and get back home.
When I was officially set up, the nurse came in and told me I was contracting regularly. I hadn’t even realized it. I had had a few random contractions at night in the days prior and had been feeling some inconsistent pressure, but it didn’t register that they were actual contractions. I hadn’t felt any real contractions leading up to Lucy’s birth. Since I had already started contracting, she told me the process would probably go quicker than the first time. With that in mind, I was able to rest easier. The evening progressed and Zach and I were able to get some sleep.
By 7am, we were transferred to the labor and delivery room. Go time was upon us.
When I had Lucy, my parents and Zach’s parents were able to filter in and out of the delivery room. When it came time to push, my mom was by my side with Zach. This time, it was just us: me, Zach, the hospital staff, and the little person in my belly. Everyone wore a mask and Zach was required to wear a mask when the staff entered the room.
As time passed, the contractions were getting stronger. It was time for an epidural. I got an epidural the first time and I fully intended on getting one this time. The anesthesiologist came in and began to set up. He asked me to sit on the edge of the bed, lean forward, and stay as still as possible.
“Wow, I can’t believe how still you are. Do you meditate?” He asked.
“This ain’t my first rodeo,” I said.
As the epidural set in, I was able to relax. Both Zach and I napped for about an hour. Even though we were missing our families, we focused on how grateful we were to be able to be alone and rest.
Around 11am, my doctor came in to check my dilation. I was about three centimeters. She reiterated that second time deliveries often go faster and that I should expect a baby by lunch time.
Another half hour passed, and the nurse came in to check on me and said the baby’s heart rate was going up and down fairly often.The nurse believed the baby didn’t like the position I was in. She said the cord may have been smooshed between the baby and one of my organs, which happens often. I had to remind myself to breathe. What if something was wrong? She consulted with the doctor and they agreed I needed to reposition.
“Okay,” I said. “Whatever the baby needs.”
“So we think if you got on all fours, that might make it better.”
Get on all fours. With a baby in my belly. After having received an epidural. Sure, why not.
I grabbed the guardrail on the bed and began to hoist myself over, dragging my dead legs with me. The nurse offered to help but I insisted on doing it myself. Somehow, I ended up on my hands and knees.
“Okay, just stay like that for fifteen minutes and we’ll see how the baby does.”
Time ticked on. My head was in my hands. Zach stood by me and encouraged me as he took a couple pictures.
“What time is it?” I asked Zach.
“It’s 11:33,” he answered.
My shoulders were getting shaky. I didn’t even know where my legs were. Were they still attached? I assumed they were under me. But no problem, I was doing it for the baby. What seemed like 20 minutes had passed, so I asked for the time again.
“It’s 11:36,” he said.
“3 MINUTES PASSED? Are you freaking kidding me?! I can’t do this anymore. Where are they?!”
“But you told the nurse you’ll be fine.”
“Well I’m not! I can’t feel my shoulders, my elbows, or my legs, what the hell are they doing to me?! They said fifteen minutes. It’s been longer!!”
A few minutes later, the nurse came in.
“The baby seems to love the new position. Are you okay to stay like that a little bit longer?” She asked.
“Oh good, the baby is okay. Yeah, sure, I can do this a bit longer.” I smiled at her as she left the room.
Zach looked at me.
“Why didn’t you tell her you were uncomfortable?!”
“Well, the baby is okay so let’s wait a little longer.”
Another ten minutes ticked away and the nurse came to check on me.
“I really can’t do this anymore. I can’t feel any of my limbs,” I said.
“Okay, let’s straighten you up,” she said.
I grabbed the rail again and with the help of the nurse I turned myself back over. The nurse arranged the bed in more of an upright position. As soon as I was settled, the pressure was intense.
“We need to get the doctor in here,” I said. “This baby is trying to get out.”
The nurse left the room to get the doctor. Every emotion I had been feeling the last few months came to a head. I was overcome. Tears welled up and I felt like I couldn’t speak. Flashbacks of Lucy’s birth popped in my head. I thought about how much I wished my mom was with me. I thought about the scariness of everything going on in the world.
“Zach, this baby is going to come.” I grabbed Zach’s hand.
My doctor came in and checked me.
“Okay, you are ten centimeters. Let’s have a baby.”
She urged me to do one push.
“Woah! Okay, the head is right there. Hold on a minute while I get my team.”
Oh my God was she serious?! She said the baby was coming out and she wanted me to “hold on a minute?!”
I could feel the baby bearing down so hard. My instinct was to push. This was so unlike Lucy’s birth. I had to force her out of me. This time the baby was doing the forcing.
Within a minute, the doctor was back with a nurse and a resident.
“Okay, big push.”
Zach was by my side.
“I can’t see you,” I said to him in a frantic voice. “Move up so I can see you! I need to see you!”
I caught a glimpse of him before I turned forward to push. Love, hope, and excitement floated in his eyes.
I can do this, I thought. I gathered every ounce of strength I had, took a deep breath, and gave one big push.
Another deep breath, another big push.
6 minutes later my doctor held up our baby.
“What is it?” She exclaimed.
Zach shouted, “It’s a boy!! It’s a boy!! Oh my gosh, it’s a boy!”
At 1:14pm, Zachary Morris Ells Jr. arrived.
Zach cut the umbilical cord and they handed Zachary to me. It was as unreal as the first time I did it. Even though I carried him in my belly for nine months, it’s still hard to comprehend it. How in the world did I do this a second time?
It felt like we had known each other for years. He nestled in on my chest and started sucking his thumb. I embraced him and breathed in that new baby smell. Everything else melted away. It was just us. The best feeling ever. Zach stood to my right and spoke. Zachary’s eyes shot up and searched the room for his dad. I had done it. I had safely delivered our second baby.
As we gazed at our new baby boy, reality hit me and I couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness. There was nobody waiting outside in the waiting room for us. Zach didn’t get to run out and do the big reveal.
I SO appreciated that I had Zach with me. Some women had to give birth without their partner because of the pandemic. I know it’s selfish to complain we didn’t have 20 people waiting to meet the baby the second he came out. It’s not that it wasn’t as incredible as the firs time because it really was. And they were right, it went a heck of a lot faster. It was just different. A good different, but still different. We sat with him for a couple hours, telling him about his sister and all of his extended family. We told him how he is the eleventh grandchild on my family’s side and the 2nd on Zach’s side. So many people already loved him. We FaceTimed and called our families to let everyone know it was a boy. The all reveled in our joy and excitement.
The nurses cleaned me up and took Zachary’s vitals and then we were carted away to the maternity ward. We masked up before going to the hallway. As a precaution, we weren’t allowed to leave the room for any reason. We settled in our intimate space with the newest member of our family. Nurses came in off and on to check on me and Zachary. We marveled at our new creation and rested when he did.
The morning after he was born, Zachary was taken out for his assessments. We tried to sleep while we waited, but the two of us were anxious. It was a mutual anxiety that stemmed from our experience with Lucy. Everything had gone well so far, but I sort of felt like I was waiting for the other shoe to drop. When your first experiences with pregnancy and childbirth are scary, you go into each time with a wary step. At last that is how it is for us.
After two hours, they brought him back. He had passed his assessments and the doctors agreed that if I felt comfortable we could go home. I had felt pretty good, as good as one can feel after pushing a 7lb 14oz baby out of their body. I had the expected soreness and aches. Like I had said, it wasn’t my first rodeo. I was anxious to get home to Lucy.
I went in, I popped the baby out, and I went home. All within 42 hours.
We arrived home to my parents, Lucy, and our neighbors on our driveway. Even though we couldn’t hug anyone and they were spaced out on the grass, it was a warm welcome. The love in the air embraced us all. Though I felt some disappointment in how it went, my excitement with our new phase of life outweighed the doubts and fears.
Lucy met her baby brother and we went inside to begin our lives as a family of four.
Both of my babies had unique entrances into this world. Another lesson for us that you can plan and plan, but life will not always follow. The important thing is Lucy and Zachary are healthy and happy kids growing within the walls of a home built from love.
I found out I was pregnant again in September. I called the doctor the next day and requested I have a blood test.The results came back and the numbers were good. Pregnancy number 4 was underway. This is considered my 4th pregnancy because of the miscarriages.
I inquired about whether I should take progesterone again because I had taken it in the early stages of Lucy’s pregnancy. As I was told before, she said, “Well, taking progesterone hasn’t been proven to save a pregnancy. We don’t believe in administering it, but if it makes you feel better we will.”
I reminded the nurse that with my previous pregnancy my progesterone had dropped within a week, so I would prefer to take it. She again said, “We don’t believe it saves a pregnancy.” Well, in my case, I beg to differ.
A week after the first set of labs, the nurse ordered another set for comparison. Sure enough, my progesterone went down within that week. When the nurse called me to give me the second set of lab reports, she told me she would put the prescription in right away.
I began taking progesterone around week 6 and by my 12 week ultrasound I saw the tiny being and heard the heartbeat. Certainty washed over me like an ocean wave. I felt empowered that once again I took control of what I could in an uncertain situation and in turn I made certain that just like pregnancy number 3, I was doing what I could to make pregnancy number 4 start off strong.
The weeks and months began to pass. Being home with Lucy and being able to focus my energy on her has helped me be more positive. When I was pregnant with her, I felt on edge for months. I had a lot of time alone with my thoughts then. This time almost ALL of my thoughts are focused on Lucy. After she’s asleep, my brain relaxes and the other thoughts I have are nonsensical.
Lucy’s optimistic outlook on the world has rubbed off on and me and helped me have an easier pregnancy. I am more aware and confident that I am doing everything I can to maintain some level of certainty. I have a stronger sense of trust in my body that is absolutely integral through this process. Or it could be that my hormones are raging so much that they’ve messed with my head completely and I’m so high on the ability to make a baby that I’m convinced it’ll all be fine. Either way, this time was starting off a lot less scary….until February.
Valentine’s Day weekend I developed a deep cough. Over the next 48 hours I began to feel awful. Extreme fatigue, body aches, low grade fever, and nausea hit me all at once. I have never had the flu before, but I knew it had to be that. I convinced myself, that this would be the scary part of this pregnancy and I would overcome it. I was knowledgeable in the fact that the flu can cause various complications for a pregnant woman. Lucy also came down with a virus at the same time, but thankfully she tested negative for the flu. God bless Zach for living with us those couple weeks and God bless my mom for helping me out. Lucy and I were not happy girls.
On Monday February 17th, I went to the local urgent care to get checked out. Being the child of medical professionals, I tend to skip the whole “go to a doctor part” and simply tell my mom and dad my symptoms and they tell me what I have. My dad said, “I think you definitely have the flu. You need to start TamiFlu right away.” Because of the pregnancy, I wanted to be sure of what was going on. Sure enough, I tested positive for Influenza A and they prescribed TamiFlu immediately. Dad was right, as always.
When I was checking in at the desk, the receptionist asked me if I had traveled to China or anywhere outside the country or come in contact with anyone who had in the last 14 days. The answer of course was no. The farthest I had traveled in the previous few months was to the Target that’s 25 minutes away. I go to that one so Lucy can fall asleep in the car on the way home.
Next to the receptionist, was a sign posted about “coronavirus” and it listed the symptoms. My eyes widened as I noticed the symptoms were similar to what I had. I had heard something on the news about it and saw some recent tweets about it, but, I figured it was contained to China.
When I sat down in the waiting area, my thumbs raced across my phone screen to text Zach.
Me: “There is a sign about coronavirus. I have the same symptoms! What if I have that?!”
Zach: “You haven’t been to China have you? Did you go without me knowing?”
I sent some laughing emojis and texted him a picture of myself with a mask on. When I said I had flu symptoms, the receptionist told me to put on a mask. I told Zach I felt funny wearing it because there were a few other people in the waiting room staring at me because I was the only one wearing a mask.
Fast forward about a month. I was at an OB appointment wearing a mask and gloves. I was the only one in the waiting room wearing them. My dad had begun urging all of us to wear a mask and gloves to public places. Coronavirus was in America and it had been here longer than we realized.
The last few weeks of March felt like a year long. The fear and uncertainty that circulated through the news had everyone in a panic.
How was this going to affect my babies? Not much was known about how coronavirus would affect a pregnant woman and her fetus. Ah, there’s that extra uncertainty I had been waiting for. The experts started out saying a pregnant woman was at no greater risk. I had just gotten over the flu. Pregnant women are at a greater risk for complications when they get the flu, so how could they not be at greater risk when getting corona, a virus that was 10 times more deadly than the flu? Didn’t seem to make sense, so I assumed I was in the “at risk” category and began taking control of what I could. Thankfully, children don’t seem to get hit as hard as others, but I wasn’t about to take any risks with Lucy either. There has been more evidence coming out that pregnant women should be more cautious and there is evidence that some children do not fare so well from it. Better to be safe than sorry.
My family has been taking every precaution my dad and brothers have told us to. The CDC originally said healthy people didn’t need to wear masks, but we wore them. And now, in most places, you can’t step foot into a store without a mask on even if you are healthy. We wore masks everywhere before it was cool! Pandemic trendsetters.
As the hours and days have progressed, more information has become available, which has eased mine and Zach’s fears. Unfortunately, the misinformation that circulated rapidly from various powerful figures has made many people skeptical of the facts. It’s obvious to me that scientific research and facts should take precedence over some crazy person’s opinion, but I guess that’s not how it is anymore in this country. When a medical expert who has spent decades studying a particular topic speaks, I’m going to listen.
The confusion spread by the misinformation could be considered just as dangerous as the virus. My family is blessed to be associated with doctors and nurses who are on the frontlines caring for people with this virus and researching every day how it can be stopped. Even though it has been extraordinarily worrisome with my dad, 2 brothers, multiple cousins, aunts, extended family, and friends exposed to this vicious enemy on a daily basis, being on the inside track has afforded us a sense of certainty in this otherwise uncertain, unprecedented time in human history.
Thank you to all my loved ones who go out every day and have to pack your own fear aside to try and save those who are suffering and prevent others from falling ill. Really, thank you. You are on the right side of history.
Sadly, we don’t thank these people enough. We don’t thank people in any area of the service industry enough, until we are in dire straits and we need them to survive. Only then are we reminded of what they do for us every day and how our lives are made safer and more convenient by their personal sacrifice. There are various fields of work that have gotten the spotlight through this pandemic. Thank you to ALL of the “essential workers” and I am sorry I/we don’t thank you more often. It’s sad that it takes hard times to open our eyes to what truly matters, but it seems to be an eternal pattern for humanity. When will we learn to appreciate all people from all occupations and walks of life? What will it take for us to change the way we operate? They keep saying life as we knew it is over and the world will be forever changed. Is that really true? Will this current change in perspective be long lasting or is it just our initial shock reaction? Will we fall back into the same ungrateful patterns when we are through with this trial?
Being pregnant during this is terrifying. I became worried from the second I learned about this virus. A majority of the reports were saying it was going to get worse before it got better. A lot of the initial reactions I heard from various people weren’t ones of alarm. They didn’t have much of a reaction at all, except for complaining about things closing and not being allowed to gather in big groups. I can understand how it didn’t feel “real” for people who it wasn’t affecting directly. Like a lot of things in life, you don’t understand a situation until it happens to you or someone close to you. It took me some time to respect that. The challenge is opening up your mind enough to embrace that it may not be “real” for you, but it’s real as hell for a lot of people all over the world. It’s like the uncertainty with pregnancy. The picture that is painted in society is that pregnancy is common and sort of easy. I didn’t understand miscarriage or even worry about it as a reality until it happened to me.
I think the pandemic felt “real” for me right away because of my family and friends in medicine. When the news said the hospitals are filling up around the country, I had firsthand reports from local doctors and nurses that this was true. I had to go to the hospital for an ultrasound on March 18th. The entrance to the main hospital was closed off. There were a table of nurses in the parking garage asking questions. When I entered the hospital they took my temperature. The atmosphere was soaked in fear and uncertainty. The closer it hits to home, the more scary it gets.
I became overly anxious and combative with Zach the first few weeks of all the news updates. I kept telling him, “People don’t understand how scary this is! Why are there so many people not listening? You don’t understand how scary this is! We need to take every precaution and we need to tell our loved ones this is real. Why is nobody listening to me?!”
Of course he understood and still understands and he was listening closely as he always does. He also understood he had to hold it together for me. I feel badly that it has been his job to keep me in check, but he’s become used to that role. Having Lucy has been a Godsend for both of us. I can’t let myself spiral like I have in the past when faced with hardship. I don’t have the luxury anymore to lie down and cry and sleep it off. Zach and I have to present a united front for her. Even though she is young, she is so perceptive of our feelings. I think we have maintained a happy and safe environment for her. I would say she has no idea the outside world is in disarray. I make sure to save my panic stricken diatribes for after she is in bed. I am grateful she is only 18months old. Major props to all those families who have school aged children and have to explain this mess to them and home school them while you are simultaneously unsure and freaking out about the future. A round of applause for teachers who are still trying to reach their beloved students in any way they can. None of you have anything to go off of to begin to understand how to operate in this new world we have found ourselves in. Nevertheless, you all have hit the ground running and never cease to amaze me. Bravo.
In this scary time, knowledge is power. The more information we have learned has calmed me down and afforded me some certainty that even though the world just got a whole lot scarier, Zach and I will do whatever we can to ensure the safety of Lucy and our new baby. I have to accept the fear and uncertainty with this pregnancy is bigger than my immediate family. I have no choice but to do that. It’s not all about me! What a sad realization for someone who grew up as the only girl in her family.
Everyone is afraid together, which sort of makes me feel better. Sounds sad, but they do say, “misery loves company.” We are at least in a stable situation. Zach is able to do his work from home. He is receiving a stable paycheck and it doesn’t seem to be changing anytime soon. I was already at home with Lucy which makes us used to being “stuck around the house.” It has been a slight adjustment for us. We did used to go out a few days a week to the park, to the house of one of her cousins, my mom’s house, or a friend’s house. I guess it’s more of an adjustment for me than her. She doesn’t mind spending every day with me and her toys and seeing her dad for a few minutes here and there when he takes a break. Zach is so easy going, it didn’t take him long to find his stride with working from home. I know he struggled with it, but he’s able to see the positives quicker than I am. We have plenty of food and he’s able to get out to the store every couple weeks to restock. There are so many families who are struggling financially and can’t provide meals for their children. I can’t begin to fathom what that must be like and I’m not going to pretend I do. So while we are technically “all in this together,” we are on vastly different levels of uncertainty. I respect that and try to understand it better to allow myself to be grateful for my situation even though I am scared.
A lot of people have put up a stink about the social distancing rules and my first reaction was, “Oh my God, they don’t get that this isn’t just about them! They could have the virus and not know it. This virus is so infectious that they could spread it to somebody who can’t handle it. Why can’t people see this is bigger than themselves?” Humans are social creatures. We crave being around others.
A majority of my family lives nearby, which enables me to drive by and say hi. My one brother and his kids live across the street. I wave to them almost every day. Many people do not have this luxury and are forced to be at home alone. This allows me to understand the general distaste for the new rules. But then again, the science of it all steps in and riles me up. These rules are in place to avoid the spread! They are not in place to take away anyone’s freedom or a political ploy. It’s to save lies. If we stop the spread, we get back to normal sooner. This virus is requiring everyone to think outside of themselves and that’s really hard to do. You could have it and not know it and be fine, but you could infect someone else and that person has a family who they could infect and those people could have compromised immune systems that can’t handle it. There are still so many “what ifs” that we need to continue to take precaution. After much reflection, I have allowed myself to get it now. I do get that some just can’t understand and maybe don’t want to understand. It can be easier to shut off the world and pretend like it’s not happening. I do that on occasion. Ultimately, all I can do is protect my family. I can help inform others and they can do what they want with that information.
I hear others say, “oh, well when this all goes away in a couple months….” I understand trying to be optimistic, but sometimes you gotta be real. It’s not going away by the deadline the state’s set. It’s not going to “magically disappear” like some individuals claim. It’s going to be here a while. It’s going to ebb and flow and we have to adjust accordingly. This thing is telling us we need to slow down and we need to be careful. Hopefully, there will be better and safer interventions in place sooner than anticipated, but it’s bigger than all of us. It is an invisible enemy and our best defense right now is staying put to avoid its wrath while the experts do their job. It’s not easy. It really is not easy, but it’s essential. The way this virus has been politicized is disgraceful and inhuman and it has distorted the reality of it all.
A major positive in this is we relearn how to “be still.” We can relearn how to live without the constant rat race we are accustomed to. I know a lot of people that like to constantly be moving or want to be traveling or have every weekend lined up with events and now they are forced to live in a completely different fashion. I get it. We are usually busy too. There’s always a party to go to or a family dinner to attend. We’ve had to adjust to a slower agenda. That’s life though. You expect your routine to continue and be able to do whatever you want whenever you want, but things can drastically change in a second and you have no choice but to adapt. We’ve been spending more time in our own yard. We sat on our driveway in chairs the other day and ate lunch while Lucy napped. It’s been different, but it has also been peaceful and refreshing. We can relearn to be grateful to be alive. There are so many perishing from this virus. So many families are being destroyed. Death was happening every day all over the world even before this outbreak, but having it surge through our own country is a wake up call. It’s a slap in the face. HEY, life is fragile, shape up and appreciate it.
It’s inspiring to see on the news that people are picking up old hobbies such as playing an instrument, baking, making funny videos with their families, or simply reconnecting with their partner through conversation. Parents have to come up with more activities within the house or their yards, so it’s helping families become more creative with their children. My mom told me the other day she’s been enjoying her time with my dad. He isn’t going to the office as much, various grandchildren aren’t parading around their house every day (as much as they love that, they needed a break). They are finally spending time alone. Zach and I are getting to spend more time alone with Lucy with no interruptions. Life is going to change drastically for her in a few weeks. This time we have alone with her is precious.
It’s interesting talking to people outside of our homes during this time and it’s not just because that it’s mostly on the phone, video chat, through a car window, or at least 6 feet away on a sidewalk. I am finding there has been an air of awkwardness in conversations that would otherwise be easy. There are many silences where in normal times there would be so much talking I didn’t know if I breathed or not. It is harder to try and figure out what to talk about. There isn’t much in the news other than virus news. Nobody is able to go to new restaurants, concerts, or anything public. There are no sports on. We all have corona weighing on our minds, but you don’t want to be the person to bring it up and drag the other person down. It’s like everyone is avoiding talking about the elephant in the room. You have to be creative and focus on positive things and find new hobbies to talk about or talk about the show you binge watched. But there only so many shows you can talk about before reality weighs in. I find myself thinking the whole time I’m talking to someone, “so how about that pandemic that’s throwing our world into absolute chaos?” The longer we live like this, the easier the conversations have gotten. But those initial few weeks, it was tough not to want to express all of my fears to everyone.
I think the thing I miss most through this social distancing era are hugs. I miss picking up my nieces and nephews and tickling them or tossing them around like they have come to expect Zach and I to do. I miss my mom’s hugs the most. I am really missing getting to spend time with her in person with Lucy as we prep for this new baby. I miss our lunch dates and occasional dinners at her house. I’ve realized how fortunate I have been to have her to lean on. Of course, I can still call her, FaceTime her, and drive by to see her. I am still spoiled. But I really am craving a “mom hug.” She gives the best hugs. Her hugs fill you with a sense of calm and comfort that leaves you believing everything is okay. I have to hold it together until the day I can get that mom hug without worrying I am going to pass a contagious virus to her or vice versa. I am grateful though that I get to give mom hugs to Lucy and I’ll get to give a mom hug to this new baby soon. I feel like I have been hugging Lucy more often than ever.
I am bummed my mom won’t be able to be in the delivery room with us this time. It was such a special experience for us when she saw Lucy be born. We can’t have anyone in the waiting room either. When Lucy was born, the waiting room was packed for us. While I am disappointed it is going to be way different, I am beyond grateful I will be able to have Zach with me. I have no idea how some women have given birth without their support person. I don’t think I could get through that without Zach. When I had Lucy, he stood up by my left ear and held my hand. There were times when I was pushing and the only thing I could hear was his voice. I am grateful to have a few more weeks to go. What pregnant woman says they are grateful to have more time being pregnant? A woman pregnant during a pandemic, that’s who.
I had said to Zach in the beginning of this pregnancy, “Man, I hope this birth isn’t as scary as Lucy’s was.” Thanks, corona.
At least with Lucy’s birth, I was able to connect with others who had babies have the same thing happen to them. The last time there was a pandemic was over 100 years ago. I don’t personally know anyone that was pregnant and delivering during the Spanish flu! God bless them, though. At least we have advanced maternal care in place in these times.
I am delivering at Lankenau again and so far they have good precautions in place. I have heard through the grapevine of a few women who have delivered there recently and it’s all been good reviews. Sounds like if your birth is uncomplicated they get you in and out pretty quickly. I’m glad this is my second baby and hopefully I can pop this one out quick. My heart is heavy for those first time moms. First time delivery is scary enough without doing it during a pandemic. Chances are, I hope, the closer I get to delivery the more knowledgeable the staff will be and the better the conditions at the hospital will be.
So, amidst the worldwide uncertainty, what certainties can I rely on going into this delivery? I have the love and never-ending support of my husband and our extended families. I have reliable doctors and nurses who will guide me through as my new baby enters the world. I have my healthy baby girl who will be waiting anxiously at home for her new sibling. I have a team of medical experts that I am closely related to that I can call on at any moment if I run into any issues at home. I am doing my best and will continue to do my best to provide for my family a safe, happy environment in which to dwell until the outside world is safe again. Life will continue as it always does. Of all that, I can be certain.
Hello, all. It’s been a while. I wanted to do a recap of Lucy’s first year and have it ready by her 1st birthday, but here we are. Seventeen months have gone by. Better late than never.
October 24th, 2019 Lucy turned one! Fastest year of my life. Fastest, happiest, scariest, most emotional, most rewarding year of my entire life.
Lucy is seventeen months old. She walks all over the place. She tries to talk but it’s still mostly in her own language. She has a raspy growl that she does, and according to my parents and extended family, I used to do that too. Oh, how happy I am that I am passing on my best qualities to my daughter.
Lucy walks around with her head held high with a sophisticated air of confidence. When she laughs, she laughs with every fiber of her being. She is not afraid to voice what she wants. She still loves her bath time and says good bye to each individual bath toy before getting out. She loves books and insists on choosing her own when we do story time. Some of her favorites are Goodnight Pennsylvania, Goodnight Massachusetts, and Ten Little Fingers and Ten Little Toes.
A few weeks ago, I was reading to her before bed and she slipped (more like leaped) out of my arms and walked towards her books.
“Okay, choose what you want and bring it over here,” I said to her.
She walked towards her bookshelf as if she knew exactly what she wanted. She returned to me with a thick book entitled Baby Sign Language Basics.
“Lucy, we’re not learning sign language before bed,” I said.
She squealed and shoved it into my lap. “Okay,” I said. “Let’s learn sign language.”
She growled with satisfaction. We sat and looked at the illustrations of the signs for the letters of the alphabet.
She shows interest in TV shows now and can focus on them. I didn’t think I’d be implementing (and failing at) screen time rules so early. Her favorite shows are Sesame Street and Mickey Mouse Clubhouse. She also enjoys Jeopardy and gets especially excited when contestants find the Daily Double. Wheel of Fortune is another favorite. Her favorite movie seems to be Toy Story, although I think Frozen is a close second. She is happiest when she is alone with her mommy and her daddy. I know she adores me, but she gets a special sparkle in her eye when her daddy is around. He has the same affect on me.
She also runs a successful business from our living room. Her staff has the utmost respect for her. She holds board meetings every Friday.
She adores all of her grandparents and she is mesmerized by her nine cousins. When I see the kids together, I am reminded of how it was when my brothers and I were growing up. We would run through the house with our cousins playing games and laughing without a care in the world.
Watching her grow has been the greatest joy of mine and Zach’s lives. Everything she does amazes us. It sounds cliché, but it’s true. The scare we had with her in the beginning has made us even more grateful for each new development. Those first few months I was on the edge of my seat every day. Since then, she has proven to me that she is a strong and capable person and nothing can stop her…not even me repetitively saying “no.” As she grows, I have been able to sit back a bit more relaxed and watch her discover the world on her own.
She has developed a unique sense of humor and knows how to push the limits just enough to get a rise out of me. I don’t know what I expected her to be like at seventeen months, but I’m floored at how tuned in she is to us and the world around her. I can remember in the beginning worrying that I might not be good at this whole thing. I worried about connecting with her the way that I think I should. I would say to Zach, “What if she doesn’t like me?” My worries have washed away. We are so synced, it’s crazy. She makes certain sounds or body language and I know exactly what she needs. She has the same thing with Zach. It’s like we had these skills all along and it just took her to bring them out.
Becoming a mom has been unreal. I still can’t come up with anything more powerful to say than that without crying all over my keyboard. Each day is a gift, even the days when Lucy is smacking me in the face, tearing my glasses off, contorting her body to avoid every diaper change (no idea how she twists herself and doesn’t break), and throwing food on the floor. Yes, even those days are gifts….in retrospect. I have become a version of myself that I didn’t know was in there, a version that I have become pretty proud of. It’s a rewarding and fulfilling feeling. I have been on a constant search most of my adult life for what it is I’m “called to do.” When I became a mom, I felt a fulfillment I never felt before. I had finally found something I knew I was definitely supposed to be doing.
One thing about the motherhood world that has stood out to me these past seventeen months is how hard moms are on themselves because of the pressures of society. The constant judgment and comparisons that are made in society is mind boggling and makes it difficult for us not to be hard on ourselves. I, especially in the beginning, have scoured the internet on more than one occasion for tips to make sure I’m “doing it right.” Checking to make sure I’m “doing it right” only makes me more uneasy and frustrated and makes Zach frustrated because he has to keep telling me to relax. My mom has said to me many times, “Sometimes, you need to stop reading.”
Every little human is unique and each relationship between the parents and the little human are unique. I have found there is no general “right way” to do this. I have 3 sisters-in-law who have children and a handful of friends. I have heard methods from my mom, my mother-in-law, and my aunts. It’s great to be able to pass advice back and forth and commiserate with each other when things are nuts, but I’ve learned that each of us has our own way of approaching motherhood and each of us is doing it or did it the way our children need/needed us to. That’s what’s important! I struggle with comparing myself to others. It’s human nature to do so. Since being a mom, I have put extra effort into trying NOT to compare my experience with those around me. We all have happy/healthy kids and that’s what is important.
Lucy wakes up pretty much every day with a smile on her face. I don’t hear her crying when she gets up, I hear her growling and laughing to herself. She runs around all day and plays and laughs. I guess I’m doing something right.
I’m a stay at home mom. It’s been a wonderful and sometimes crazy experience. Overall, I feel blessed and grateful that I have the ability to do it. I encountered a few people soon after I had Lucy who asked me, “When are you going back to work?” I would tell them I’m going to be staying home and the conversation would be over.
Women are judged if they stay home and women are judged if they go back to work. We need to stop judging each other!! Whatever works for your family is what works. Honestly, props to moms who work. I don’t know how they manage it. But also, props to us stay at home moms. This is hard work too. I have had people say to me, “What do you do all day?” Oh, you know, just watch Netflix and pick my nose. But that’s really only when Lucy is napping.
I’m not trying to get up on a soap box and preach. I just want everyone to believe that no matter what you decide to do, we are ALL working hard ALL day every day. Our lives change completely the instant the little human exits us. Technically, our lives change completely the instant the little human begins growing in our belly. Why society can’t appreciate that and applaud all of us is beyond me. Why society forces us to pin ourselves against each other is shameful. No matter what path we take, stay at home mom or working mom, or stay at home dad, we are making a sacrifice for our growing families. In my household, we used to have two incomes and now we have one. We had to adjust to that new reality, which was difficult.
Some days I get jealous that Zach gets to leave the house every day (at least he did before this pandemic showed up), go to an office, and interact with other humans who are contributing to society. I miss that office working version of myself on occasion. As I am sure moms who work wish they could be doing more with their babies. Society demands women BE it all and DO it all. Women constantly feel torn, which can affect the way we parent. Why are we pressured in this way? WE GROW HUMANS IN OUR BODY AND THEN THEY COME OUT OF US. GIVE US A BREAK. We give up our bodies for pregnancy, push humans out of our bodies, or we get cut open and get them pulled out of our bodies (both equally difficult), care for them at the expense of our sanity for the rest of our lives, and we are still judged over whether we stay home or go back to work. See, doesn’t it seem ridiculous when it’s written out? We become different human beings on a cellular level, from the change of how we physically look, to our body composition to how our brains work. We become new women physically, mentally, and emotionally. However we decide to lead our lives after we bring children into the world is our decision for our family and we shouldn’t be made to feel as though we are making the wrong choice.
Even though I understand and accept the path I have chosen, at times I still feel helpless and think I could be doing more. I don’t want to feel that way, but it seems that is what comes with being a mom. SO MANY FEELINGS. And I thought I had a lot feelings before motherhood.
When I feel that way, I look at my daughter and my growing belly that contains baby #2 and I realize I am contributing to our little society within our household. I am working on raising little humans who could one day change the world. That’s my hope at least. I won’t pressure them to change the WHOLE world, just their little corner of the world is totally fine too.
All parents are doing that. We are contributing new humans to the world to hopefully make the future better. Don’t lose sight of that in the humdrum of routine or the fast paced world of getting ahead while trying to have it all.
To my Lucy girl, thank you for allowing me to see the world through your eyes. You have awakened in me and your daddy a sense of wonder and excitement that invigorates us every day. Continue to hold your head up high and never lose that unflinching confidence that you so seamlessly display. You are a strong little lady and you proved that to everyone right out of the gate. Being able to watch you grow and discover the world has been God’s greatest gift to us.
Always remember, “you are so young and so curious. Your life is wide open. You can be and do anything you desire, but follow your heart. Don’t let the cares and concerns and fears of those around you keep you from becoming whatever it is you want.”**
*Excerpt from the Good Friday Homily from Deacon Joe at my parish OMC.
Fourteen years ago this September, I met one of the kindest souls I have ever known. With her striking green eyes, she had the power to draw you into her world of simplicity. She became a constant in my life and the lives of my family and friends. She didn’t ask for much, just companionship. She loved being around people. A heartfelt hello and a pat on the back was all she needed. I swear she thought she was a person. And to me and my family, she was.
Nelly Lafawnduh Sprandio came into my life on my 18th birthday.
Yes, her middle name was Lafawnduh. Lafawnduh was the name of one of the characters from the 2004 movie Napoleon Dynamite. My brothers and I liked that movie and I thought it’d be hilarious to name her that. Thankfully, the ultimate voice of reason, my mother, said that was ridiculous and she would not be walking around with a dog named Lafawnduh. I agreed to make it her middle name instead. Her official Kennel Club dog papers have it listed in prominent capital letters:
NELLY LAFAWNDUH SPRANDIO
I’m not sure who came up with Nelly, it was probably my mom. But when I heard it, it seemed right. As she grew, we learned the nervous and timid nature of Nelly. Nervous Nelly … perfect.
Nelly came into the family a few months after our dog Max had passed. He suffered from bloat, which is when a dog’s stomach becomes distended with gas and puts pressure on the diaphragm. It causes breathing issues. Surgery can be done to fix the stomach, but it can be fatal. It happened to Max one afternoon at the shore in May of 2005. He started foaming at the mouth and his limbs became lame. Me, my mom, and my dad rushed him to the vet. As they were prepping him for surgery, Max went into cardiac arrest twice and died. He was nine years old.
Nelly was a healing puppy for all of us, even our other dog Sam. Sam was a temperamental toy poodle and she had a terrible time after Max passed. I can remember she moaned for weeks. It was a distinct mournful cry. Nelly helped Sam heal by being her punching bag. Sam asserted her authority over Nelly from day one, even though Nelly was considerably larger. Sam is one of the reasons Nelly turned out as timid as she was.
Since I attended college down the street from my parents house, I was able to see Nelly whenever I wanted and my friends got a chance to know her as well. My mom, God bless her, had three dogs at home with her when I was in college. My brother Mike had a dog named King, a standard poodle, and he would drop King off at my mom’s during the day when he went to work. My mom took care of Nelly, King, and Sam. Three poodles of three different sizes. King was also an authoritarian. He and Sam would battle for leadership, while Nelly cowered and tried to be the peacemaker. It was an interesting dynamic.
After about a year of living at home after college, I moved in with my brother Mike and Nelly came with me. I was in grad school and doing freelance work, so I spent a lot of time in the house with Nelly. I had parties with friends and Nelly would wander around reveling in a house full of people. She was one of the gang.
Nelly was five when little John was born. I was surprised at how well she adapted to him. She wasn’t a puppy anymore and was starting to get set in her ways. I assumed there would at least be some resistance on her part, but she never snapped, she never got agitated. She allowed little John to pat her, pull her hair, whatever he wanted to do. For the next eight years, baby after baby would discover Nelly. She met them as infants and watched them grow. She let them climb on her, pull her hair, and chase her around. She would get a spark of youth when she would see the kids. Even if she was having a day where she was struggling to walk the stairs, her ability to run and jump suddenly returned when the kids came around. It was so special to be able to introduce Nelly to my baby.
About 6 months before I got married, I moved back home with Nelly. After I got married in 2015, Nelly stayed with my mom and dad. She was ten years old and we didn’t want to take her out of an environment that made her conformable. While I know Nelly posed some inconveniences for my parents, they did adore her. They didn’t always admit it, but they did. Even though they had a few dogs over the years, they didn’t really become “dog people” until the last four years Nelly lived with them. She offered them comfort as they each took on new roles in their life, “empty nesters.” Four out of the five of us live close by, so the house is never truly “empty,” but during weeknights, it was my mom, dad, and Nelly. On days when my mom was home during the day, it would be her and Nelly. They never really said much to her and she didn’t say much to them. But I know they enjoyed having each other around for the simple comfort of knowing somebody was there. In the mornings, my dad would snap his fingers and Nelly would follow to be let outside. When she started having trouble on the stairs, my dad would help her along, walking step by step with her. After he left for work, she would go back upstairs and join my mom as she got ready for the day. She followed my mom everywhere. My mom used to take her out in the car with her when she was running quick errands. Nelly would sit happily in the backseat. When Zach and I began the process to buy and renovate our house, we moved in with my parents and Nelly. That would be the last time I lived in the same house as her.
Nelly had many lumps that developed over time and a few sores on her back, typical things that happen to an aging animal. One thing that was most worrisome was a cough that would come and go. My dad and I had taken her to the vet a couple times in recent months. The vet insisted we get tests done etc, but we didn’t want to put Nelly through extensive tests at her age. He gave us a few cough suppressants and the cough would subside for a while. My parents had many sleepless nights when Nelly would be struggling to settle herself. They did what they could to make her comfortable.
June 9, 2019.
The day started as an ordinary Stone Harbor day. We woke up and had breakfast. My parents went out to the store as Zach and I got Lucy ready for the beach. I put Nelly in her cage because nobody was in the house. She was coughing a little bit, but nothing concerning. I locked her in and told her I’d be back soon.
When we came back from the beach, I let her out of her cage and brought her up to the porch. I got Lucy down for a nap and joined my parents, Zach, and Nelly outside. Nelly began to cough, like usual. It seems as though in unison we all said, “Okay, Nelly. It’s okay.”
The cough continued on, getting harsher with each breath.
“See, this is what she does,” my mom said.
“It’s never gone on this long,” I said as alarm rose in my voice.
It wasn’t a cough anymore. She sounded like she was choking. My dad googled the nearest Veterinary office and went inside to call them. Nelly laid down on the porch, Zach stroked her head. Her tongue was hanging out, her abdomen heaved in and out like never before. I began to cry. I looked up at Zach.
“Do you think she’s dying? This isn’t right. Something is wrong with her.”
I ran inside to my dad, “Dad, we need to take her. We need to take her now. I think she’s dying.”
Zach picked Nelly up and carried her to my mom’s car. I sat with her in the backseat. She sat beside me. Her eyes yellowed. Her tongue hung out of her mouth. Her abdomen heaved in and out faster as she struggled to take a deep breath.
“She’s choking,” I shouted. My words weren’t helping, but I didn’t know what to do. I felt helpless. My parents were silent up front. We all feared the same thing, this was the beginning of the end. Flashbacks of the three of us driving down the same road with my dog Max flooded my brain.
“It’s okay. It’s okay, Nell.”
We arrived at South Paw Veterinary hospital. They brought us back to an exam room. Nelly laid down on a dog bed on the floor and I sat on the floor next to her. My parents sat in chairs beside her. We talked to her while we waited. We reminisced about when we brought her home. My mom went to pick her up with my brother Mike and she sat in Mike’s lap on the drive back. She urinated all over his lap and he sat there patiently until they arrived home. When I first met her, she was sitting in the basement with a bow around her neck. The first time we locked eyes, we were connected forever.
My dad and I had discussed for a few months prior that Nelly may need to be put down, that it was the right thing to do for her. That day, he kept repeating it. “Kate, this is the right thing to do. She’s been suffering. This is the right thing to do.” I know he kept repeating it to make it easier for me to let her go, but I think he kept repeating it for himself and my mom too. We didn’t want Nelly to suffer anymore, but we still needed to convince ourselves that it was time to let her go. She had become such a staple in our family. She was always there to greet everyone at the door, always lying around in whatever room we were all gathered in. She was our friend, our family member. I said to my parents, “Think about how much our family has changed since we got Nelly.” We were kids when we got her and now look at us, 5 weddings and 10 babies later. Nearly 14 years, and now it was time to say good bye.
The doctor came in and saw Nelly struggling to breathe. She was able to diagnose what it was right away just by the way Nelly’s abdomen was heaving in and out. She told us Nelly had laryngeal paralysis. It’s when the opening to her trachea was paralyzed and Nelly was essentially suffocating. When it first starts, the animal exhibits labored or noisy breathing and as it progresses it becomes increasingly harder for them to breathe. We described her history to the doctor. In retrospect, Nelly had been exhibiting classic symptoms for months. The doctor said we could sedate her and help her get out of the current episode and go home, but she said she would keep getting worse. She said she knew it was a hard decision, but the most humane thing to do for her would be to let her go.
The doctor was so kind as she explained the process. She would first administer anesthesia, so Nelly wouldn’t feel anything and then she would administer the euthanasia medication. She got down on the floor beside Nelly’s legs. The doctor covered the IV they had put in. I was sitting up by Nelly’s face. I kept my eyes locked on hers. I stroked her head over and over.
“You did a good job, Nelly,” I said. “You were such a good dog. Such a good dog. You did a good job. We love you, Nelly. You did a good job.” Tears ran down all of our faces.
I watched as her breathing slowed. Her belly heaved in and out slowly a few more times. I looked in her eyes, those beautiful eyes that once sparkled a striking green color, those eyes that held such trust and love, those eyes were dark now. I took a deep breath in as I closed a chapter of my life and said my final good bye to my friend.
Nelly was at peace.
The doctor stayed with us for a moment and reassured us we did the best thing for Nelly. She left the room and said we could take as much time as we needed. The three of us sat there looking at Nelly. We cried together as we talked about her long life. It was sad, it was really sad, but there was also a feeling of relief. Relief that she wasn’t suffering anymore. It was the most peaceful we had seen Nelly in about a year. Relief that we were able to be there with her as she was able to be there for us so many times before in good and bad. As sad as we were, we were comforted by each other and the knowledge that we did everything we could for our friend.
It is often said that dogs are too good for this world. That was the case for Nelly. We often take the love and loyalty that dogs provide us for granted. They become members of the family and we don’t realize what we have until they’re gone. Over the years, Nelly taught us patience, kindness, loyalty, and love. She taught us that even when you get old and sore, you can still be young at heart and reignite that spark of youth.
Nelly lived a long, happy life. She was a kind, pure, loving soul. We were blessed to have known her and will forever share the fond memories we made.
Farewell, my friend. You did a good job.
I had wanted to include this story with my previous post, but I felt like it needed its own spotlight.
It was late afternoon a few weeks ago and Lucy was being crabby about going down for a nap. It had been a long, dreary day already, so I decided to take her for a drive. A drive in the car never fails to induce a nap. I drove around my neighborhood a couple times thinking about where I could go. Right near my house is Holy Sepulchre Cemetery where some relatives and friends of my family are buried. It had been a long time since I had driven through and visited them.
I called my mom and my aunt Clare to help me remember how to find the gravesite where some of their family was buried. Clare told me the particular road to turn down and then said to look for the Celtic cross. I found the road and saw a sea of Celtic crosses. I laughed. Was she joking? Look for the Celtic cross where half of Ireland is buried.
I felt like giving up, but then I saw it, the headstone marked Quinn.
Buried there are the following: my maternal great grandparents, Kathryn (my namesake) and Edward. My maternal grandparents Jeanne (my middle namesake) and Bob. My great aunt and uncle Clare and Weston. My mom’s cousin’s husband Jim. My cousins Jeanne Kathryn and Benjamin. And the most recent being my uncle Robert, my mom’s brother. The 5th anniversary of his death was May 18th. I wrote about him a few years ago after his sudden heart attack. It’s still so hard to believe he is gone.
Lucy was asleep, so I got out of the car alone. I stood there, thinking of memories about the ones I was lucky enough to know, wondering what life would be like if they were still with us. I must have looked like a crazy person, but I began talking out loud. I think it made me feel better. I guess people do that, right? It may be silly, but I had this feeling I was being heard. I talked about how in my immediate family there were 10 kids and about the babies in my extended family. I thanked them for watching over Lucy when she had her scare and for watching over the twins when they were in the hospital for their first month.
As I was speaking, a light breeze came through and it thundered! I turned around and looked above in the direction it thundered. The sun was breaking through the clouds, the rays shined down on the graves. It had been rainy off and on, but it had not thundered the ENTIRE day up until that point and it did not thunder THE REST of the evening after that moment. Now that’s weird. And it wasn’t a prolonged series of thunder, it was a brief boom that lingered for a few seconds.
I am iffy about my belief in signs from beyond the grave, mostly because I haven’t experienced many. I think with what happened with Lucy, I have become more open to signs from above. Well, THIS was a sign. I have no doubt that this was a sign. They were answering me. Side note, Kathryn Quinn, my great grandmother, was born October 29th. That is the day Lucy was discharged from Children’s Hospital.
I stood there overcome with emotion, tears welled up in my eyes. I thanked them all for the sign and I reached out to touch the stone. I hoped that with a touch of the stone I could somehow impart to them how much I missed them all. There are other family members and friends of our family buried in this cemetery. I didn’t have time to drive around and find them all, but I made sure to say hello as I drove out. I think everyone was giving me a shout out.
I drove away that evening in peace knowing that those we have lost can always be found, we just need to listen closely with our hearts open.
After all the craziness of the first couple months of Lucy’s life, we began plans to get her baptized. We picked a date, we picked Godparents, and we got the paperwork in. With all the planning of the event, the true meaning of it all got lost. In terms of the actual sacrament, my immediate thinking was that we “had to” get Lucy baptized because that’s what Catholics do, they baptize their children.
Before we could get her baptized, our church required us to go to a meeting about baptism. At first I thought the meeting would be silly, Zach and I knew what baptism was. Lucy was becoming an official member of the church and the priest was washing away her original sin. Yada, yada, we knew the spiel.
To my surprise, the meeting turned out to be meaningful. It was an hour out of our lives to reflect on what it was we were actually doing for Lucy. We needed this break. We were reflecting on our personal reasons to baptize her not because of the technical“rules” of the church. We wanted our child baptized because we want for Lucy what we had. Zach and I both had positive experiences growing up in the Catholic church. We were both involved in our communities and frequented Sunday masses with our families. I always admired the priest in my parish, Father Himsworth. He was a kind man who was good to my family over the years. Even after he retired, I kept in touch with him through letters. Zach told me he volunteered for years at his church, opening it up for early morning masses and leading classes for kids. Our church communities were extended family. Because of my schooling, as a teenager and a young adult, I developed close relationships with members of the Sisters of St. Joseph, a group of women who I can’t say enough good things about. My aunt Karen is a prominent member of the order. They are a group who showed immense support when Lucy was first born and had her medical scares.
Sitting in this meeting allowed Zach and I to be reminded of how much we enjoyed being involved. I have been saying for a few years, “We need to go to church more. We need to get more involved in the community.” It’s been an empty sentiment on my part. I want to, but I haven’t put forth the effort. Why? I really don’t know. Even though we had such positive experiences growing up, I think we’ve allowed the current church climate to affect us. “Positive” isn’t a word used often to describe the church in today’s world. What with scandals coming out so often about disgraceful behavior from hierarchy, it’s easy to fall away or lose faith. It’s easy to be afraid. And I also think it’s as simple as life getting in the way. Poor excuses, but it’s true. Despite the darkness in the world and the hectic nature of life, sweet Lucy has brought us back to our roots.
The deacon who baptized Lucy is a nice guy. He’s one of the good ones who can often be overlooked amidst the darknesses in the church. He baptized Lucy and one other baby that day. In his opening, he spoke about how we live in a broken world. That’s just the truth. I appreciated his candor. Sadly, the truth is hard to come by in society today and it’s refreshing when someone is strong enough to be honest. We do live in a broken world. But he pointed out that babies don’t know that yet. Babies are so pure and unaware of sadness and hardships. Our job as parents is to provide a happy environment and share the good.
I was struck by this. It’s so obvious, but I hadn’t given it much thought. One of the most important of our responsibilities as parents is simple, show Lucy all the good life has to offer. Sure, she will learn about the bad stuff and try as we might there is nothing we can do to stop her from experiencing that, except be there for her and guide her. By having her join the church, we are providing her the opportunity to join a loving community that will allow her to feel safe and grow in faith. We are having her join an extended family that can help us reinforce a positive environment. Thankfully, the church we belong to is a great place. And, as I said above, we have a unique connection with the SSJ who are also affiliated with our church. The religious in the community are wonderful people and truly care about the families. I have been a member there a long time and our niece and nephews attend the parish school. It’s a small community, which makes it easy to get to know everyone. It reminds me a great deal of the parish I grew up in. It feels like home and our hope is Lucy will find comfort in that feeling as well.
When we went up to the baptismal font, I held Lucy and Zach stood beside me. I looked out at our families gathered in front of us. It was one of those “I feel like a grown up” moments. I told my mom this after the fact and she said, “That made you feel like a grown up? The whole giving birth to a human thing didn’t make you grow up?”
Lucy was hilarious of course, she screamed when the deacon motioned to come near her and calmed down as soon as he backed away.
I glanced over at her Godparents, my oldest brother John and Zach’s sister Sarah. I saw the pride they each held in their smiles for their new titles. I was reminded of the significance of Godparents. To me a Godparent is a special mentor for life. My Godmother is my aunt Tracey and my Godfather is my cousin Johnny. I was grateful they were able to join us celebrate that day. I’m 31 years old and they are still showing up for me and I am still leaning on them for support. Both of them were also there for us when Lucy was in the hospital. Without question, they showed up to support us. I don’t know many people who can still say their Godparents play an essential role in their lives.
Like me, Lucy is blessed to have many loved ones ready to support her at any moment, but I hope she develops this special connection with her Godparents. My hope is when she experiences the ups and downs, if she feels she can’t come to me or Zach, that she can go to John or Sarah. I know she will because they are two people Zach and I feel we can personally count on. I was also reminded of what my own role is as a Godparent to my niece Grace. I know I could step it up and be more present to Grace, even in small ways like checking in on her more often. In this fleeting moment of reflection, I allowed myself to be immersed in the true meaning of baptism: family, love, human connection. (Side note, Zach and I were blessed to be asked to be the Godparents of our sweet niece Holly. My little “God family” is growing!)
If anything, you all know from other posts that I have doubted more than I have believed over the last few years. The journey of doubt and renewal is one most of us find ourselves on. It is essential to personal growth in my opinion. Life changing events have the power to take us away or bring us back to faith. I lived a charmed life up until I had some bumps in the road. How many people can say that? 29 years without encountering a serious hardship. I allowed my miscarriages to pull me away from faith. I allowed the hardship to bring me down. Lucy has brought me back. She has lifted me up, lifted us up. Her arrival was perfect timing. I believe when we are at our lowest if we try hard enough to keep our heads up, something life changing does come around to lift us up again.
[Actually, to be exact, it felt like she lifted us up the day she was born, she had seizures and then we were taken down again from the highest of highs to the lowest of lows, and then she got better and we were rejuvenated once more. Writing it out that way, her entrance into our lives really was completely insane. We are beyond blessed it has all worked out in her favor.]
Lucy has done so much for us and our families since she arrived. Restoring our faith is one of the major things. Our faith in God and our faith in each other is at an all time high. She has helped me restore my faith in myself too. I had no idea, but apparently I have intuition. The way I respond to her and I am somehow able to understand what she needs amazes me. She and I have an indescribable connection. I hate to be cliché, but I really have never known love like this before. Sometimes it’s a bit too strong. Some days she doesn’t let me move more than five feet from her. But that’s okay, even though it can be exasperating. As long as it fades by the time she goes to school. She won’t get any dates with her mom hanging around her all the time.
She has brought forth a side of myself that I didn’t know was in there. She has helped me feel a pride and a self confidence in myself that I had been lacking for some time. Lucy has helped us rediscover the good in the world, the simple joys life has to offer every day.
We all have our struggles, but it is important to find something that rejuvenates us. Rejuvenation, it is key for the soul.
At least a few times a week, I will look at Lucy and say, “I can’t believe I pushed you out of my body.” She’ll smile at me and drool all over herself. I say, “No, really, you were in my belly and I pushed you out. How did I do that?” Her little face lights up with laughter. Yeah, real funny Lucy.
How did I do it? I pushed really hard and a baby came out. Sounds simple. I didn’t have much of a chance to process what I did since Lucy decided to scare the crap out of us 2 days after she was born. We were thrown into a tornado of terror and uncertainty. Then, suddenly, we were sent home with this tiny creature and told she’d be okay.
Childbirth is seriously amazing and sort of terrifying…okay really terrifying. Don’t worry, I won’t go into gory details. If you want specifics, shoot me a message. And I’m not trying to scare anyone out of doing it. It is terrifying, but it’s such a miracle. It’s a miracle that this tiny life form is pushed out of a bigger life form and the whole process goes right as often as it does. It’s a miracle that a woman can conjure up enough strength required to birth a child. I never believed I was that strong. Now, after doing that, I feel as though I am capable of doing anything.
I didn’t cry through the induction process and most of early labor. I expected myself to be a crazy mess, but I was smiling and making jokes with Zach most of the time…probably because of the epidural.
But, when the doctor came in and said I would be pushing soon, I lost it. I had this uncontrollable urge to cry. Through the tears I said to Zach and my mom I hoped that nothing would go wrong. I said I wasn’t sure if I was strong enough to do it. I feared I would be bad at being a mom. I apologized for crying. They both consoled me and said I was being silly. They reassured me that I would do this and I would be a great mom.
When I began to push, the fear went away. The doubts disappeared. I did what I had to do. I pushed my baby out. When they handed her to me, I felt a contentment that I never felt before. I wasn’t afraid. I wasn’t unsure. I felt a courage and confidence that I had never had until that moment. It’s like a switch was flipped on. The mom switch. Lucy was my baby and from that moment on I would do anything and everything to ensure she was going to have a wonderful life.
It’s true that right after you have the baby, the pain and insanity of the moment melt away. When you see the face of the little human you and your partner created, everything else becomes irrelevant. All you can focus on is the prize you got after the most physically taxing moment of your life.
Since my last blog post, I have had more of a chance to think about the childbirth process and formulate an articulate response:
OH MY GOD THAT WAS THE MOST INSANE THING I HAVE EVER DONE. I PUSHED A SMALL HUMAN OUT OF MY BODY AND NOW I AM WALKING AROUND FEELING FINE LIKE NOTHING EVER HAPPENED … AND DARE I SAY, I’D DO IT AGAIN?!
It was seriously awesome and the respect I have for my body, the female gender, and life itself has increased by a million. And even though it was super intense and wild, I would totally do it again. I think there is a thing to these hormones. God put hormones into the mix to make women crazy enough to want to do this again and again. These hormones are no joke. THERE ARE SO MANY FEELINGS. I miss being pregnant sometimes. Is that crazy? I miss that feeling of a life growing inside of me. There’s nothing like it. I think the hormones give you like a life high or something. You get on hooked on creating life.
They say your body should be mostly back to normal within 6-8 weeks after you deliver. Which is true, your body does get back to its essential inner workings pretty quickly, but it is forever changed. When you have a baby, you are not only learning how to take care of this new human, but also how to take care of the new you. You get a new baby, a new body, and a new soul.
I feel like my soul has changed. Both Zach and I fee l that way. We feel enriched. We feel a new kind of happiness. Lucy has helped us level up in this game of life.
In retrospect, the first few weeks we had her home were kinda nuts. She slept a lot during the day and spent her nights waking up every 1-2 hours. One of my brothers said to me, being up with the baby in the middle of the night is really special. I thought that was an insane statement at first, but over time I have found that he was right. He said, “the middle of the night feeds are the best. It’s just you and the baby, nobody else.” No matter how tired I feel, I revel in the time I get to spend with Lucy feeding her in the quiet of the wee hours of the morning. She is typically pleasant in the middle of the night, which makes it easier. She often goes right back to sleep after eating. There of course have been nights when she is wide awake after eating. I get frustrated and find myself saying, “Oh, God, come on Lucy, just go back to sleep, please.” Zach will come in and ask if I need help and I’ll snap back at him, “Just go back to sleep!” It happens! It’s hard, but the key is to remain a united front with your partner. It can be a struggle figuring out whatever the issue is. It’s the worst when we look at her when she is crying and she looks right at us as if she is saying, “What are you going to do about this?! Help me! Figure this out!”
I have found she seems to be a baby who only cries when something is really bothering her. She doesn’t cry just to cry. I feel like some babies cry just because they can. Once we figure out what’s making her uncomfortable, she calms down right away. I have been getting better at determining what it is she needs. I have intuition, who knew.
That intuition came in handy. In the beginning of January, she gave us another scare. She had high fevers off and on for over a week. We took her to the doctor and they said it was probably a virus because she had a runny nose. I felt like there was something else going on with her. The runny nose and congestion weren’t convincing to me. The fever continued, but the runny nose did not. Off to CHOP ER we went.
We learned that there are two possibilities when a baby under 3 months presents with high fevers: a viral infection or a urinary tract infection. Of course, with Lucy’s luck, it was a UTI. She spent two nights in CHOP so she could get IV antibiotics to get rid of the infection. She was smiling through the whole ordeal. Classic Lucy.
Zach and I stayed there overnight and as we walked through the hospital to the cafeteria, we were reminded of her first few days of life. We felt blessed that all she had this time was a UTI. We navigated the halls like we owned the place. Hopefully, we won’t have to stay over night there anytime soon, if ever again. The sleeping arrangements can be rough.
That was an awful week. Her fever got up to 103 one night. She would scream and scream and we didn’t know what was going on. She only wanted to be held. Poor girl was a hot mess.
She has been fine since we figured it out. She has a urinary reflux issue on one side. Vesicoureteral reflux to be exact. I had the same thing when I was young and I grew out of it, but I never had symptoms. She looks like her father, but she got my urinary tract. My bad, Lucy.
I didn’t find out I had it until I was 29 when I discovered my blood pressure was high. My high BP is a result of the years of reflux going untreated. At least we discovered it and can be on top of it. The doctor said it’s something she will grow out of and requires no intervention at this time. All we need to do is monitor her and keep her on a medicine to prevent further infection for now. Lucy gets lucky again.
It’s shocking Lucy has only been with us for just over three months. It feels like years. My assessment on parenting at 3 months in: parenting is hard work, but it’s fulfilling. It’s exciting and scary and beautiful. Every day is an adventure with Lucy. It’s a pleasure and a blessing to be able to experience the miracle of life through her. The blow out diapers, the spit up, the middle of the night feeds, the occasional screaming fit, the hospital visits, it’s all worth it.
The other night we had gone out and Zach’s sister and brother-in-law had watched her. When we got home, they said she was very upset for a good part of the night. As soon as she saw us, she lit up. After they left, we sat with her. She laid on my chest and held her head up. She had a smirk on her face. Her little hand was resting on my chin. The stare she had was one of overwhelming love and admiration. She was lost in my face. She turned to Zach and gave him the same look. Back and forth her little head would go. She couldn’t get enough of us. She was the happiest, most content person in that moment. To be able to provide such an intense level of love, comfort, and safety to a tiny person is so gratifying. It was a simple moment, but it was one of the most beautiful moments we have had with her so far. Knowing that we can provide this type of happiness for her makes everything worthwhile.
And, just for the record, after reflecting and working on this post for a few days, I still don’t understand how I gave birth.
Wednesday October 24th, I gave birth to the most perfect little human I’ve ever seen. Her name is Lucy Rose Ells. Weighing in at 7lbs, 14oz and 22 inches long, Lucy was a force from the start. With the help of excellent doctors, nurses, Zach, and my mom, I succeeded in bringing her into the world safely.
Tuesday night, Zach and I went to Lankenau to begin the induction. I took my first dose of medicine and settled in for the long haul. As I laid in the hospital bed with Zach at my side, we watched the first game of the World Series. Talk about my “labor plan” not going the way I thought. I never thought I’d have to be induced and I never thought I’d be watching a Red Sox World Series while being induced. Once again, life proves not everything goes according to plan. In the middle of the night, the contractions began and the discomfort set in. I think the contraction pain rivaled the pain of watching a Boston sports team. I was able to push through the hours and focus on my goal. I was on the final leg of my journey to meet our baby.
At 7am, the resident taking care of me told us we were moving to a labor and delivery room. I walked to the next room in my hospital gown looking like a surge protector. Multiple wires hung down from me from my IV to the heart monitor they had strapped around my belly.
Once settled, I was given more medicine to make the contractions increase. By 10am, I got the epidural and life was blissful. I couldn’t feel my hips or my legs and it was great! I sat chatting and laughing with Zach as we guessed at what it would be like to be parents and what our baby would look like. Even as I sat there unable to feel my legs with wires attached to me and monitors beeping off and on, I could not comprehend that I was going to be pushing a human being out of my body.
My parents and Zach’s parents came through and various family members appeared. Everyone was brimming with excitement. I expected it to feel like it would drag on, but I think time flew by. Before I knew it, my doctor was telling me to push.
I had Zach and my mom to my left side and a nurse on my right. Front and center was my doctor, Dr. Hammerel. Dr. Hammerel has been with me since the beginning of my journey. She rearranged her schedule that evening because, in her words, “I feel like I’m meant to deliver this baby.”
I couldn’t have asked for a better team. With Zach in my ear counting to ten for each push and telling me he loved me, my mom telling me how strong I was and how proud she was, and the doctors and nurses continuously telling me I was doing an amazing job, labor honestly wasn’t that bad.
I conjured up a strength from the deepest parts of me. All of the feelings I had developed over time fueled my power to push my baby out. This was it. This was the moment I had waited for. This was MY time for MY baby. Everything that had happened leading up to it happened to make me stronger. It all happened so this particular human being could have a place in this world. This child was meant for greatness. This child was meant to be with me and Zach. With each passing push, I felt stronger. I focused on my doctor as she coached me through the final pushes. It was such a blur. Quite literally, considering I didn’t have my glasses on.
As I pushed with every ounce of myself and roared through my teeth, the doctor pulled my baby up into view.
“It’s a girl!” Zach proudly announced to the room.
I was shocked! A girl! I had a girl! My mom rejoiced, “A girl, a girl! My girl had a girl!” The medical staff celebrated. My baby entered the world the way every baby should, to a round of applause. The staff cleaned her up and brought her back to me. She instantly calmed down as she rested peacefully on my chest. Finally, I got to feel the greatest feeling in the world.
Zach and I couldn’t take our eyes off of her the rest of the night. After meeting both sets of her grandparents and her aunts and uncles, we were moved to the next room. Our nurse came in and explained to me how to take care of myself and asked me about my pain level. Pain? I felt no pain. The love and admiration I had for Lucy overpowered any other feeling in my body. I was a mom, Zach was a dad, and this blessed gift from heaven was our baby girl.
Lucy’s first full day with us was magical. We had a few visitors come through, including a photographer who took beautiful photos, but for a majority of the day it was just us. Our new family of 3. We watched her as she slept and hung on every little sound she would make. Her eyes didn’t open much, but when they did it was easy to get lost in her mesmerizing gaze.
Near midnight, I fed Lucy and the nurses came to take her for her evaluation. The nurse asked if I wanted them to keep her until she was ready to eat. I remembered my mom saying, “If they ask if you want her taken to the nursery at night, do it. Get some rest with Zach because you won’t be getting much when you get home! It’s a good opportunity for the nurses to keep an eye on her too.”
They took my baby from me at midnight. Zach and I drifted off to sleep as dreams of being with our Lucy flooded our minds.
I heard the door open and the lights went on in a flash. I eagerly sat up thinking it was time to feed my precious new baby.
A tall man in a white coat approached my bedside, but Lucy was not with him.
This doctor sat down in a chair next to me and a flood of information came at us. It was all a blur. Involuntary movements, blood tests, spinal tap, possible MRI, EEG, maybe a strep infection, possible meningitis. Those are just a few words I can recall.
Was I dreaming? I just saw her two hours ago. My baby was perfect. What the hell was this guy talking about? He had to have the wrong baby, but he kept saying her name.
We are monitoring Lucy. Lucy may need further testing. Lucy is exhibiting involuntary movements. Lucy may be having seizures. Lucy has been sent up to the NICU.
My Lucy?? Lucy Rose Ells, my first baby? My rainbow baby? My baby is in the intensive care unit? Zach and I sat there immobile. I don’t remember taking a breath. I held it hoping I would wake from this nightmare. Zach may have asked questions, but I can’t remember. All I remember is nodding my head as the doctor said, “We will contact you with more updates.”
Our hearts ached. Unsure of what to do or how to process it, I called my parents. They answered on the first ring. I relayed what I could to them through intermittent sobs. I knew they could calm me down with their combined medical knowledge and of course their soothing way of talking. I needed to hear their opinions. I just needed to hear their voices. There I was, a new mother, calling on my own parents to help me.
I told them not to come yet and that I would call with any news. Zach and I told each other it would all be okay. I don’t know if either of us believed it or if we said it to calm each other, but we laid our weary hearts to rest and attempted to go back to sleep.
Our door opened again. I shot up in bed. My heart instantly felt a calmness. My parents had arrived. Even though I told them not to come, they knew in my voice that I needed them. My mom hugged me and it calmed me in a way only my mom’s hugs do.
After talking, the four of us fell into a broken sleep until the doctor came back a few hours later. At that point, he said he had already ruled out various problems, which was good. All her lab results were coming back normal. His primary concern, however, was her brain. The seizures were a result of some event that occurred in her brain. He wanted to send her for an MRI and an EEG asap.
It was her brain. Something was wrong with our baby’s brain. How could this be? She seemed normal. How did we not catch that something was off? The doctor said the seizures she was having were so subtle that they were hard to identify. The normal movements newborns make are already sudden and weird that catching the slight involuntary movements she was making was hard to do. That’s why they needed an EEG done, to monitor her brainwaves and catch how often she was seizing. God bless the nurses in the nursery who caught these subtle movements. Thank God I listened to my mom and sent Lucy to the nursery for the night.
Morning to afternoon
As the day wore on and we waited and worried, more family appeared. My three older brothers left work to be with us. Zach’s parents and his sister and brother-in-law came. A few of my aunts came. The texts and calls came flooding in from various family members and friends extending their prayers. Word traveled fast that we needed prayers. No matter what was going to happen to this baby, she had a lot of people to support her. The nurses and the social worker on staff at the NICU who spent the afternoon with us commented on how much support we had. That’s what family is all about. In times of need, family shows up.
Waiting was hard, but not being able to hold our baby was grueling. Zach and I yearned to hold her and comfort her. We felt so helpless. We sat for hours with our family. My dad, brothers, and mom used their medical expertise to try and figure out what it could be. Being from a family of doctors and a nurse and having worked in a medical office, I am familiar with the terms the doctors were throwing at us. I understood the severity of the situation, but part of me wished in those moments I was ignorant. Maybe it would have been easier to digest if I wasn’t familiar with what it could be.
Various scenarios uncontrollably passed through my mind. First and foremost, what if she died? What if she had some sort of severe brain damage that she couldn’t recover from? What if we were going to leave the hospital without our baby girl? It was a morbid thought, but I couldn’t help it. I felt like I had to prepare myself emotionally and mentally for any possible outcome. What if she was going to struggle the rest of her life? She didn’t deserve that. She is an angel. Why did she have to go through this? Why did Zach and I have to be tested again? Didn’t we learn enough lessons already? Why was God being so cruel?
By late morning, we were allowed to see Lucy in the NICU. It was the first time we saw her since midnight. Poor little Lucy was hooked up to monitors and her face was puffy from the fluids. She was groggy from the seizure medicine, so she wasn’t responding to us except for the occasional grip on our thumbs. There was a screen monitoring her heart rate, blood pressure, etc. She didn’t look like the baby I had held just hours before.
As we sat with her, we witnessed her seizures. In retrospect, we realized we had seen the subtle movements the day before. If we hadn’t sent her to the nursery, we may have brought her home never knowing she was struggling. We watched as her head twitched. Her little hands and feet shook so lightly. She was so dainty even her seizures were dainty. We held her hands as the tremors set in, whispering in her ear that she was going to be okay. We told her how strong she was and how we would do everything we could for her. We told her how much we loved her. She clutched Zach’s thumb as he kissed her on the head. I had to look away at moments, it was too much for me. But Zach, Zach kept his eyes focused on her the whole time. It was the hardest moment of our lives watching our baby girl in distress.
They did an ultrasound of her brain and those results showed there was no active bleeding. However, the MRI results came back with evidence. One of the doctors overseeing her care guided us to a small room. There were three spots of damage on her brain. Lucy had suffered a form of stroke. They weren’t sure of the severity of it or even when it happened. The doctor started firing questions. “Did you have complications during pregnancy? Did delivery go okay? You’ve had two miscarriages, was this a natural conception? Did you take fertility drugs? Do you have a history of a blood clotting disorder?” I understood she had to cover all the bases and get my proper history, but my mind was spinning out of control. There were no complications, pregnancy was natural, I didn’t take any medicines, I had no history of blood clotting issues. My miscarriages were random. Why is she asking this? Was this my fault?
After further monitoring, the NICU doctor decided that they weren’t able to provide the care Lucy needed. An adult neurologist reviewed her MRI results and what they needed was a pediatric neurologist to review it. They didn’t want to keep pumping her with more seizure medicine when they weren’t sure of the dosage she needed or how to move forward. She suggested we transfer her to Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia (CHOP) NICU for further evaluation and a firm diagnosis. My family is personally familiar with CHOP and my brothers wives have friends who work in the NICU. They took to their phones to ensure Lucy would get a spot. My dad called our childhood pediatrician right away and he gave him the number of one of the neurologists there. Zach and I are so grateful for the care the doctors and nurses at Lankenau gave to Lucy and to me. We are most grateful that they recognized so quickly that they couldn’t provide what Lucy needed. In situations like these, time is of the essence. How lucky was Lucy to be born in a city with the best children’s hospital in the country.
As details were being finalized, I went back to our room to lie down. I needed to get off of my feet. I was so concerned for Lucy that it didn’t register that I was in physical pain. I had to remember that I was in recovery and I needed my strength so I could be there for my baby. I sat alone in the hospital room crying. This was not how I pictured my second full day as a mom. Okay, God. I get it. Life does not go as planned.
The door opened and my three big brothers came in. “What stuff needs to go?” I told them and without hesitation they started gathering my things. With the help of the doctor in the NICU and the contacts we had, Lucy was secured a room at CHOP and an ambulance was coming. All I could do was cry and thank them. The three of them reassured me it was going to be okay and they reinforced how strong I was.
I drifted off to sleep. I have no idea how much time went by, but I heard the door open again. It was my dad. He came up to my bedside.
“She’s going to be okay, Kate,” he said. I looked in his eyes. Tears were welling up and there was a cracking in his voice. My dad is the strongest and smartest man I know. It was one of the few times I have seen him vulnerable. I wasn’t sure if he believed what he was saying or if he was being a Dad and saying it to make me feel better.
“Are you sure?” I croaked.
“She’s not going to die from this,” he said firmly. It’s as if he knew my mind was drifting in and out of the darkest corners. He knew that’s what I thought might happen. “She’s going to be okay. And if she needs help along the way, we will all do everything in our power to help her. She has the resources.”
“Okay,” I said.
I believed him. I always believe and trust in my dad. This was one of those moments in life when I felt like an adult. He was talking straight with me. No sugar coating. His vulnerability was real. I believed he knew in his heart that my baby was going to be okay. If my dad believed it, then I believed it.
When the ambulance arrived, one of the responders was a girl I knew when I was younger, another guardian angel for Lucy. I watched as this girl from my youth assisted with packing my baby up on a stretcher. It’s amazing how people resurface in your life in different ways. She was so kind and professional and I felt reassured that Lucy was with someone I knew.
By the time Lucy was ready, everyone was already at CHOP waiting for us. Zach’s parents drove us down behind the ambulance. I could see through the windshield into the back of the ambulance. I was in a car following an ambulance with our baby inside. I cried to myself the whole way there, Zach’s hand clutched in mine. I turned a few times to look at him. We didn’t need to say anything out loud, our eyes spoke for us. Everyone kept telling me how strong I was being. Zach was the reason for that strength. Not sure what I would do without Zach. As a team, we have become an unstoppable force. The path to becoming parents had bumps in the road and now our first days as parents were turning out to be the most stressful of our lives. With the darkness I felt in my heart, I still felt an overwhelming positive feeling that we would get through it together.
We entered the hospital through the back entrance with the responders and Lucy. We got to Lucy’s room in the NICU. The team greeted us and before I knew it, Lucy was set up in her bed with the monitors going and a plan was in motion. My baby was where she needed to be and we had met incredible people along the way to get her there. Zach and I both felt a little relief.
The plan was to stop the seizure medicine and hook Lucy up to an EEG machine for an extended period with a camera on her so the neurologists could track her brainwaves along with viewing her movements.
After getting her set up, we went back out into the waiting room. Our visitors took up the entire room. We were surrounded by support and love. We sat down to talk with everyone. They offered us food and encouraged us to reenergize so we could be strong for Lucy. As we sat there, comforted with the love of our family, one of my brothers switched the channels on the TV. I looked up and there was an infomercial for I Love Lucy.
“Oh my God,” I said through my tears. “If this isn’t a sign, I don’t know what it is. When do you ever see an infomercial for I Love Lucy?!”
It showed various clips from different episodes and we all laughed together. God was with us and he understood our pain. He knew we needed a moment of levity. He knew how much we loved Lucy.
Visiting hours came to an end and our extended family went home. Zach and I set ourselves up in the room they provided us. We had two single beds. We each sat down on our own bed. The room was small, but I felt so far away from him. All I wanted was to lay my head down next to his. For the first time all day, he sat with his head in his hands, he look defeated. He said, “I want to cry for her. But I’ve cried so much, I don’t know if I have anything left.”
I walked over and I hugged him. I wanted to lift him up after he had been holding me the whole day. Here we were experiencing the worst day of our lives, but somehow we each still had the strength to lift each other. That’s what love does. That’s what love is.
The weekend wore on and we continued to hear only good news about Lucy’s progress. Her vitals were fine, no seizures on record. With the help of my timekeeper, Zach, I pumped every 3 hours so my milk supply would be ready when Lucy was ready. He woke me through the night, he cleaned the pump machine, and bottled the milk. He was Lucy’s personal milk man. By Saturday evening, she was eating bottles of my milk. By Sunday, she was off the EEG machine. She was eating more. She had a glowing evaluation from the neurologist. By late Sunday night, they took her IV out. Everything was working out for Lucky Lucy.
The doctor said what happened to Lucy was hypoxic ischemic encephalopathy (HIE). At some unknown point, there was a dip in her oxygen level affecting the blood flow to her brain. It could have been in utero, it could have been during delivery, they just don’t know. The MRI noted three infarcts, small localized areas of dead tissue resulting from failure of blood supply. The part of her brain that it affected was the frontal lobe. This particular region is not responsible for any major functions. In other cases when this happens, it can affect major functions and can cause lifelong debilitating issues. Lucy is seriously lucky.
Other regions of Lucy’s brain would be able to make up for what she lost. The doctor said Lucy exhibited mild symptoms and babies in her case turn out fine. The seizures she had were an affect of the event. He said typically in this scenario the child will exhibit seizures soon after the event but only for a couple days. She had the seizures Thursday and Friday. She exhibited no seizures from Friday night on. He reassured us that she would have little to no lasting affects. If she does have any deficits, they will likely be some learning issues that can be helped with early intervention. He instructed us to continue to monitor Lucy as she grows and to call if we ever notice an abnormality. He can’t predict the future. She may have affects later that we won’t be able to notice until the age of three or four, but as of now he is reassured that she will probably be fine. So, we continue on like normal parents, we will monitor our baby’s development.
By Monday, Lucy was breastfeeding. The team came through again to give her the final evaluation. Monday evening, Lucy was cleared to go home.
It’s been four weeks since she was born. It has been such a fun experience at home. Each day we see that she is growing and developing. Each night she is making her voice heard. She has a strong voice and a strong will, especially when we try to change her diaper or her outfit. We are so blessed to know this new type of love. She has not only brought Zach and I closer, but she has affected the lives of many. Since she was in the hospital and since being home, we have heard from various people about how many groups have prayed for her. Pretty sure the entire order of the Sisters of St. Joseph have prayed for her. Prayer groups in various states have her name on their list. Extended family and friends continue to text and call to check up on Lucy. Thank you to all those who have prayed and continue to pray. Thank you to all of those who have been our strength when we felt we couldn’t be strong. Thank you to my baby girl Lucy for being.
Lucky Lucy Rose Ells has reminded us of the power of prayer and love and the importance of showing up when others need you most. She has been with us about a month, but has taught us a lifetime of lessons. She is a miracle. She is an inspiration. I know I am biased because I am her mom, but it’s really true. I don’t know why this had to happen to her, but I know there must be a deeper meaning. For some reason, we had to weather one more storm before our rainbow could come home. This child has touched the lives of many and I know she is destined to continue to do so.
It’s been 10 weeks since I last wrote. I’ve had the urge to write but haven’t made myself sit down and type it out. It’s just after 6am on the morning that I am going to the hospital to be induced for labor. I just had a bowl of Coco Puffs. The next time I spend a morning in my house, I’ll have a baby here.
The doctors decided it’s best not to let me go past 40 weeks due to my history of high blood pressure. I am only going a few days before my due date, which they decided to bump back to October 27th, the original date we started with in the beginning. I am 39 weeks and a few days pregnant. How did I get here so fast?
People say the last few weeks often drag on. Not for me. I think the only part that dragged on was the beginning of the pregnancy. I didn’t feel so well for a few weeks and I think I was kind of a wimp about it all. I was super nervous about everything going well and didn’t focus on much else. Once the morning sickness passed and I felt reassured the pregnancy was a successful one, life went in fast forward.
Now, here I am. The nursery is finally ready. The car seat is installed in the car. The clothes, blankets, hats, and socks are all washed and neatly folded in their places. We have an abundance of diapers and wipes, which I am sure we will go through faster than we are expecting. Our hearts and our home are ready to welcome a baby.
I finished work last week so I would have a few days to chill out and get more things in order. Sunday night, my parents had my immediate family over for dinner as a final send off for Zach and I into parenthood. When I got home that night, I watched TV with Zach. Before I went upstairs to get changed, I hugged him. I began to cry and expressed that I was scared. Anytime anyone has asked me how I am, I have responded with a chipper, “I’m fine! Feeling super calm, actually.” While this is true, of course there has been slight trepidation lingering on. Zach reassured me that it would all be okay, no matter what. He’s definitely gotten very good at calming me down. One can try very hard to be strong in front of others, but occasionally you have to let it all out.
After he helped me settle down, I went upstairs alone to get changed. I sat in our room with my hands covering my belly, feeling the kicks and squirms of my little one.
“This is it,” I said. “We’re going to meet you soon.”
Pregnancy can feel lonely. I am not discounting the endless support of my husband and other family and friends. I have had people to count on the whole way. I’ve never felt more blessed. I mean lonely in the sense that this particular experience at this particular time was only happening inside my body. It’s like I felt when I had miscarriages. Women take on this task of completely altering our bodies, minds, and souls from the moment of conception. Yes, things change for men, but those tangible changes aren’t in full effect until the baby arrives home. It can feel isolating, like a lot of things women have to go through. It’s hard to describe to someone exactly how you are feeling when what’s happening inside of you is simply, well, indescribable.
As I held my belly, I began to cry again. I haven’t cried much through this pregnancy, which surprises me, and most of it was happening in this evening. I did a heck of a lot of crying before it, that’s for sure.
As I cried, I smiled. How could I be so selfish? I haven’t been alone in this experience. As I felt my little one push back against my hand, I realized, I’ve had someone within me the whole way.
“It’s been me and you,” I said to my belly. “It’s been me and you the whole time. We’ve been in this together.”
This tiny human residing inside me has given me more strength and confidence than I have ever known. I have had various moments in my life when I have let fear of the unknown stunt me. A lot of of those times were last year when I had the two miscarriages. I don’t feel that fear anymore. I don’t have that self doubt. He or she has helped my heart grow and see the world more clearly than I had been seeing it. My eyes were cloudy, but I can see now. I can physically see the love within and the love that surrounds me. I can do this. We can do this, as a family. Me, Zach, and this brand new life we created together.
The time has now come to share this little one with the world. It’s time for the world to meet this strong, courageous little person I have come to know and love these last nine months.
“We’re going to be okay,” I said to my baby. “We’re really going to be okay.”
“You and Me” – Penny and The Quartets
Only a handful of weeks before we get to meet our precious little one!
It was a Sunday morning when I found out about you.
Your dad was away for the weekend, so I was by myself.
I’m not sure what made me want to take the test, but I did. Maybe I just knew you were already there.
When I saw the two lines on the stick, I breathed a sigh of relief and excitement.
I had to go to your cousin’s christening that day. A full day with extended family and I couldn’t say a word about you. It was tough. All I could think about was you and how happy your father would be with the news. I was quiet that day, mulling over in my head all the possibilities of you.
Later that night, I picked up your dad and we went to our house. We were in the basement together when I told him about you. He wore that smile that I fell in love with when I first met him. He held me like I was the only person in the world. His excitement surged from his body to mine. I took a second test that night to ensure it was true. It was. Our lives were taking yet another turn.
There were two times during the year when our hearts were broken like we’d never experienced. We found ourselves tumbling along together trying to make sense of it all. Even though there were days when we didn’t feel strong enough to keep trying, we did anyway. We did because our love for each other and our dreams were stronger than the hurt. We overcame together. That love created you.
Because of the thought of you, we persevered. Because of the possibility of you, we kept our heads held high. You were our driving force.
Because of you, our hearts have been healed in a way we couldn’t imagine.
You are our light, our heart, our rainbow at the end of the storm.