Elijah's Story
It all started with Taco Bell. Sam, the Kids, and I all went to taco bell for lunch on Thursday, March 26th. Just the night before, I had finally gotten myself motivated enough to pack all of my hospital bags, and that very morning Sam and I had put the car seat in the van, and cleaned it out. Sam left for work at around 2:00 pm , and I felt my first real contraction at 2:15 . I could tell right away that something was different. I had been having Braxton Hicks contractions for weeks, so I had a pretty good idea what they felt like, and these felt different. Definitely more intense, but mostly just different. I couldn’t quite put a finger on what it was, but I just had a feeling. I was 35 weeks pregnant exactly, so I figured it was probably not the real thing, and tried to ignore it. After about an hour of contractions every five minutes, I decided that maybe it would be a good idea to call Lynda, and go into the office to be checked. My labor with Isaac was really short, so I figured that this labor would probably be short too. Thankfully, Cindy was already over doing crafts with the kids, so I headed off to the doctor’s office, where Lynda found me to be only 2.5-3 cm dilated and 50% effaced. She didn’t think I was in real labor, and sent me home to relax and drink, and see if we could get them to go away.
I came home, and got in the bath. When I was in there, the contractions got noticeably stronger. So strong, that it took me forever to get out, because I was in so much pain. The contractions still felt so different, different from even my other two labors. I could easily feel Elijah kicking and moving hard during them, and it made them so much more painful. After my bath, Cindy and I took the kids for a walk, which was basically unbearable for me. Surely, I must be in active labor by now. I could barely move, and had to stop every three minutes or so to breathe through the contractions. When we got back around 5, I called Sam and told him he needed to come home and take me to the hospital. By 6 we were in triage, where the nurse found me to be still 3 cm dilated. Nothing had changed!!! But sure enough, my contractions were coming every 3 minutes, and by all the looks of things, I was in active labor. They ran some test, and made me drink a TON of water, to try and encourage labor to stop, but nothing worked. Finally, at 10 pm , they decided that I must be in labor, and put me in a room. For a short time I was able to be up and around, which made the contractions so much more bearable. But after only 30 minutes or so, they wanted me back in bed to monitor his heartbeat. So back in bed I went, where the contractions were so much more difficult to get through.
At around 11 pm , Elijah heart rate started soaring to anywhere between 180-200 bpm. Since I was GBS+, they thought that there was a possibility that he had an infection of some sort, and started talking about the dread C word…. C-section. Lynda went out and talked to the doctor on call, and they decided together that he needed to be born that night. She came in and broke my water, and told me that if I was able to dilate in the next hour, and if we could keep his heart rate down, than we could do it vaginally, but if not, than we would have to do a c-section. Unfortunately, they wouldn’t let me out of bed, because they had to keep monitoring his heart rate. So, I had to labor in bed, which I know is the worst position to encourage dilation, and to help with pain management. After an hour, I was still only at 4.5 cm, which is what I was immediately following her breaking my water. So, it was decided. I would have a c-section. I’m still not exactly sure that it was completely necessary, but at the moment, they thought it was, so that’s what they did.
I was such a mess of emotions. Anybody who knows me knows that labor and delivery is not something I dread, but rather something that I look forward to for my entire pregnancy. I had been planning my labor for months, dreaming of just how it would be. I couldn’t wait to push this little guy out, and hold him to my chest for the first time. And now, it was all being ripped away. Suddenly, I was laying on the bed, being prepped for a major surgery. Sam was given blue scrubs to wear into the OR, and I can clearly remember him saying “What, I have to wear these paper pants, I can’t believe this”…. One of my favorite memories from the night. I was lying on the bed getting ready to be cut open, and he had the audacity to complain about the pants he had to wear. Men…. My sister Ruthanne, and mother in law Cindy, were both at the hospital with me. The mood had suddenly changed from excitement, to worry and concern.. knowing how important birth was to me, and everyone was encouraging me that it would all be okay, that Eli needed me to do this, and that he would be fine. I kept saying over and over again “As long as he is okay…”
By about 12:15 , they had wheeled me into the OR, and giving me the Spinal Anesthesia. It was a lot less painful that I thought it would be. In fact, I barely felt it at all. After they were done, Sam was finally able to come in and be with me. He was so worried.. this was a brand new experience for all of us. Sam actually watched my entire C-section. I can vividly remember looking up from the table, and seeing his face so carefully watching everything they were doing. I waited and waited… listening closely for that sound I had been waiting for for so long, his first cry. Finally, he was out of me, and they announced he was a boy, and started working on him to get him breathing. It wasn’t long before they realized that he wasn’t doing what he needed to do, and that they were going to have to help him out. They rushed him to the warmer and started working on him. They all took turns trying to intubate him, but no one was having any luck. Finally, after what seemed like forever and at least 10 tries, the specialist came in and was able to intubate him on his first try. That was by far the worst hour of my life. I was strapped down to the table, and couldn’t see anything because of that silly sheet they have up. I had no idea what was going on, and nobody would tell me anything because they didn’t want me to freak out and crash. So I lay there, asking over and over again “what is going on”, and all Sam could tell me was that he didn’t know. Finally, somebody told me that they were just giving him a little bit of help breathing, and I asked them if they thought he would have to transfer to Saginaw . They answered without any hesitancy that yes, the call was already in for the ambulance. It was at this point that I started begging them to just knock me out. I felt so helpless, knowing that my little baby boy was fighting for his life, and I couldn’t do anything to help him. I couldn’t even see him. Finally, they gave me some phentanol, which is a narcotic, and it made everything much more bearable. My midwife sat down with me, and told me all about the Grey’s Anatomy show from that evening. I still can’t believe that I sat there, asking about what Derek and Meredith were up to, while Elijah laid not ten feet away, barely holding on. But, it was so much better than the helpless feeling. When they finally got me closed up, around 2:30 , they wheeled me back to my room to recover, while Sam stayed in the OR with Elijah. I caught my first glimpse of Elijah on my way out. Actually, I caught my first glimpse of his little hand. That was all I was able to see through the mass of doctors and nurses surrounding his little warmer.
It was two full hours later before I saw Elijah again. Two hours that were full of tears and worry, and some loopy moments, thanks to the phentanol. Cindy and Ruthanne were a complete mess, worrying about Elijah. They didn’t have the luxury of being doped up to help them through this horrifically scary time. Finally at around 4:45 they wheeled Elijah into my room, so that I could see him for a moment, before they transferred him to the NICU in Saginaw . He was completely enclosed in a portable isolette, all ready for his ambulance ride. I could barely see him through all of his wires, and breathing tube… and the haze of my narcotics didn’t help one bit. I remember reaching in there, blubbering through my tears, telling him that it was going to be okay, and that his mommy loved him. And 30 seconds later, they were gone again, with Sam in tow. Cindy went home to be with my other two kids, and Ruthanne stayed with me until I was finally able to fall asleep. This was definitely not the recovery I had imagined. I had envisioned Sam and I spending endless amounts of time with just Elijah and no distractions. Enjoy hospital food, and the quiet of being away from home, just adoring our precious little boy. Instead, I found myself completely alone in a hospital room, without the ability to even get up and go to the bathroom. The pain from the c-section was horrendous, much worse than I ever imagined it to be. But I was adamant to push myself to get out of bed and move around as soon as I could, so that I could show the doctors that I was ready to be discharged much sooner than they would want to let me go. The 24 hours that I was stuck in Midland by myself were probably some of the worse moments of my life. I didn’t have any idea what was really going on with Elijah, and I didn’t have Sam to support me through the hardest thing I have ever been through. I was completely and utterly alone, and spent many hours sobbing. To make matters worse, crying was extremely painful because of the surgery.
Elijah barely made it into the NICU in Saginaw , and they were already sending for a helicopter from Ann Arbor . After doing an echo, because of a very audible murmur, they found that he had a large VSD (Ventricular Septum Defect), which is a hole between the bottom two chambers of the heart, and some pulmonary stenosis, which is a narrowing of the pulmonary valve. Dr. Zreich, the pediatric cardiologist, was afraid that he may need surgery in the next few days, and wanted him in the best possible hands. U of M hospital is rated #4 in the country for congenital heart disease, so that is where we were headed. Elijah was air-lifted to Ann Arbor around 11 am , approximately 10 hours after he was born. Sam drove down to Ann Arbor , and I was left in Midland to recover until they would let me go. I had to fight tooth and nail to be discharged early, but thankfully, the doctor was willing to let me go after only 24 hours. I quickly came home with Cindy and the kids, packed our bags, and headed down south to finally get a good look at my newest son.
Being wheeled into the NICU to meet Elijah was one of the most surreal moments of my life. This isn’t something that happens to you, but rather something that always happens to someone else. But wouldn’t you know it, here I was in Mott’s Children Hospital , and Wejrowski, E. was written on the name label on the outside of the room. Sure enough, this was real life. Sam wheeled me into the room, and I laid eyes on my son for the first time. He was so bloated.. so much in fact that just touching him left imprints on his body. He had a feeding tube, breathing tube, three IV’s, one of which was in his head, and arterial line coming out of his belly button. It was overwhelming, to say the least. He looked so sick, so different from the baby I had imagined for the past 9 months. But sure enough, he was my son. At least he had to be, because his ankle bracelet had my last name on it.
The first two days of Elijah’s life were by far the most stressful days of my life. I went from being in labor, and full of excitement, to having an unplanned C-section. I came to terms with that, holding onto the fact that everything would be okay, and Elijah would be just fine. Then he was born not breathing and needing to be resuscitated. When I had finally come to terms with him needing to be in the NICU for a short time, to get breathing on his own, I come to find out that he has congenital heart disease, and will need at least one open heart surgery. It felt like just one bomb right after another, and I really wasn’t prepared for any of them. Looking back, I have no idea how I made it through those first two days.
When Elijah was transferred out of Midland hospital, we truly thought that it was would be a few days, maybe a week before we were all home again. In reality, we did not bring Elijah home until he was 6 weeks old. Elijah spent 16 days on the ventilator, and was 5 weeks old before he was able to breath on his own. We spent 30 days in the ICU, watching baby after baby come through, healing from surgery, or taking a turn for the worse. We spent countless hours in the waiting room, listening to the stories of other parents just like us, whose precious little ones were fighting for their lives. In Elijah’s short life, he has taught me more than I have learned in my 25 years of living. He has taught me to enjoy every single moment I have with my kids, because you never know what tomorrow brings. He has taught me that in order to survive, I must rely fully on God. He is the only reason that we have been able to pull through all of this. And above everything else, Elijah has taught me that no matter how tightly I try to hold onto my children, I can’t protect them. Up until this point, I held onto Hannah and Isaac so tightly, and couldn’t stand to be away from them for more than one night. Now, I have spent over six weeks away from my kids. I have learned that I have to place them in God’s hands, and trust Him to take care of them. Because, in all reality, I am helpless at protecting them from the things that can hurt them the most.
If you are reading this, please, find your kids and hold them close. Look at the details of their amazingly formed bodies. Watch them breathe, and realize that not every child is able to breathe quite so effortlessly. Listen to their heartbeat, and think of all of the things that needed to take place to form this perfectly beating heart. As a parent of healthy kids, I never worried about whether my child would take another breath, or if their heart would just stop beating. Please, don’t take these things for granted. Every moment we have with our kids is a gift. And there is no guarantee for how long we will be with them. Keep perspective, and focus on the important things. Let the little things slide, because in retrospect, whether on not they finish their milk really doesn’t matter. Life is not something to take for granted, but rather something that must be cherished, while it is here. Because you really never know what tomorrow may hold. Take it from me, the mom who always assumed that something like this would never happen to me. Scary, hard things do happen to good people. And it is by the grace of God that we are able to get through them.
Naomi Wejrowski