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Please feel free to write whatever thoughts you may have. ESPECIALLY, please feel free to reply to those messages where you might be able to offer some help or just because you feel a connection. You can do it on the board or you might want to email that person directly. It is up to you and I truly appreciate it.
Big hugs, Julane

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The whole horrible story

The morning of August 20th was pretty normal, too. I had a regular ob/gyn appointment scheduled that day. I was a little irritated because my obgyn stopped having afternoon hours, so I had to take Quen with me that day. Anyone who has a one year old can relate to those difficulties. But I had a suprise when I went to the bathroom. There was the "bloody show". Now, I was 36 weeks along, which is early, but by far not anything to be worried about. I was really excited. I packed all the baby stuff, including the carseat and our hospital bags into the car and off Quen and I went. I think I felt a few contractions, but it could have been just my mind getting prepared. The doctor told me I was dialated to a 4 and 90% effaced. Doc told me to find a babysitter because I was gonna have a baby. It was all moving pretty fast and I was worried that I wouldn't have time for an epidural or that Chris wouldn't make it in time. Then my doctor came in and looked at the machines. I could tell by the look on his face that things didn't look great. Chris walked in, said a few comforting words to me, then the doctor said the last two words I wanted to hear: Emergency C-section. They rushed me into surgery and said that Chris would be in there as soon as I was prepped. Everything went so fast and I was shaking from being so scared. I have never been so scared in all my life. They never let Chris in because they had to go so fast to get Mack out. During the surgery, I just tried to keep my mind on Jesus, but there was some pain, especially in my shoulder. The doctors and nurses were talking so fast in such med-jargon that my mind was spinning. I did hear one thing that I understood "look at the dorsal". I figured that something was wrong with Maverick's back. A dark realization set in: spinal bifida. But I was taking folic acid and prenatals. That couldn't be. Scarier still was that I heard rapid counting. 1..2...3...bag...1..2...3...bag". I expected to hear a scream of new life any moment. But the time just passed.
That's when I had the moment of terrible awareness. I didn't know how I knew, but I knew he wouldn't make it. Then a doctor I'd never seen came in and asked for the baby's name. He explained to us rather delicately that Maverick had spinal bifida. He told us that the "leigon' was rather high on his back and that he most likely would be parylized and possibly have some mental retardation, and they were "working" on him in nicu. They stiched me up and sent me back to the delivery room. Then a whole slew of doctors came into the room. Let me tell you, if you are ever in a hospital room and more than 2 doctors that you don't recognize come in, the news is bad. The original strange doctor said that there were further complications. They did x-rays and saw that Maverick had a diaphramatic hernia, which meant that his diaphram didn't fully develop and his organs had shifted into the lung cavity, preventing much lung growth. In short, Maverick had no lungs. That's why I never heard him cry, nor would I ever. Then the doctors said we had a choice: we could go for the 1% chance and send him to Riley's to have an operation to resituate his organs, but even if that was successful, the lungs would likely not grow. In fact, they didn't expect him to even survive the ambulance ride. Plus, he would have to go alone, they wouldn't let Chris go with him in the ambulance. Or, we could remove him from the respirator and spend his last minutes with us. They left us to think about it, which is the most horrible decision a person shouldn't have to make. A few minutes later the doctors returned with more bad news. Riley hospital called and told them that Maverick was too small to even undergo the surgery (3 lbs 3 oz--which I didn't even find out until after he died). He would die either way. So our choices were to have our child die with strangers, or in the arms of his loving parents. We chose the latter. They brought him in and took out the tube that was breathing for him. The first time I saw and held my living baby was the last time, too. We had about 20 minutes with him, he gasped a few times, but otherwise seemed very peaceful. We talked to him, sang songs to him, told him about his big brother who he'd never meet. His little hand squeezed Chris's finger and he opened his beautiful blue eyes when I spoke to him. Then, in a moment, he was gone. The rest is a blur of visitors, funerals, and tears, and I really don't have the energy to go through it all. But it sucked.

Re: The whole horrible story - by Emmy - Sep 13, 2007 1:07pm
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