You will notice two candles on the birthday cake. Hannah is not turning two, she is turning four! I just like this picture and she thought it was pretty funny, too! It's my blog, I can do what I want to do...
I have to admit that Hannah's birthday is a little extra special for me, too. Why so? Hannah's brithday reminds of my journey of carrying Hannah. Hannah is a fighter and a little on the fiesty side. She had to be. She had to fight everyday she was inside of me. At week 14 of her pregnancy we thought we lost her. It was one of the most difficult nights I can recall. I woke up in the middle of the night losing a lot of blood. I thought it was a miscarriage. I called our small city hospital and the nurses told me to wait to come in. It was a Saturday night. Jon had to preach the next morning and his sermon happened to be about being broken. He had to preach that morning knowing that his family was broken.
In the morning the kids and I stayed home. Jon was gone. I was alone with my two and four year old. I really don't remember much. I do remember that it was David's birthday. He was turning two. We celebrated the day before. Jon came home from church and we decided to head to the ER. (I was still bleeding a lot) I got the ER and they took my blood pressure - it was REALLY low. They immediately laid me down and started an IV drip. The doctor on call was assuring me that it might not be a miscarriage. But whatever was happening it was not good. My regular doctor happened to be there and she rolled her ultrasound machine over. After what seemed like forever, we saw a little heart beating - and it was a strong heartbeat. I breathed a huge sigh of relief. More tests, more detailed ultrasounds and two things were found. Placenta previa and a placenta tear. The placenta was tearing away from the uterus. Not good. I stayed in the hospital the remainder of the day and they sent me home on bedrest.
Bedrest. Yikes. I was a stay at home mom of a now two year old and four year old. I was told to lay down. Not even sit. Get up only to go to the bathroom. I had to lay there and watch my kids struggle with why mommy can't play with them. I had to lay there and watch other people take care of my family. I am extremely grateful for these people that helped us. We had meals brought in, people did our laundry, cleaned our house, watched our kids, and I even had people that would come over and keep me company. A dear woman came over two to three times a week and would bring me Taco Johns for lunch and teach me how to knit. I rarely ask for help - I was greatly humbled. I had to swallow my pride and let other people help me. I had feelings of guilt. Jon was busting his tail trying to hold everything together. I felt useless and had to remind myself that my job was to provide a safe home for my unborn child to grow. I felt bad for my husband and other two kids. Why did they have to suffer through this?
The only time I left the house was for doctor appointments. Once a week I would get to see the flowers coming up and the trees budding. But with each appointment we learned that the baby was growing and that was enough motivation to go home and lay on the couch for another week. I went down on bedrest at week 14. At week 24 I was allowed to sit up in a chair and by week 30 I was allowed to get up and "take it easy."
I carried Hannah full term. I was having contractions and they admitted me for observation. My baby was not handling the contractions well. All night long they shifted my position. I often heard the nurses whispering to each other whether or not they should call the doctor. To make a long story short labor progressed and I was ready to push. I pushed once and the look on the nurses face and the face of the doctor was alarming. An oxygen mask was placed under my nose and I was told to breathe. They told me I had one more chance to push and then I was going to have an emergency c-section. They told me to give this push all I had. I knew this push could potentially save my baby's life so I did give it all I had. At 11:14 am little miss Hannah was born. The push worked! The umbilical cord was wrapped around her neck three times. She was basically being choked with each contraction. However, she survived the pregnancy, labor, and delivery! She had to fight each day she was inside of me to survive. Now when she is a little fiesty, I need to remind myself that if she wasn't that way, she probably wouldn't be here.
We had one little hangup with her heart rate and a heart murmur but that has all turned out to be fine and she is a happy, healthy, and fiesty four year old. So not only is it Hannah's birthday, it is the four year anniversary of me getting off of bedrest and God blessing me with a beautiful daughter.
I look back on that time and there were so many things that could have gone wrong. But they didn't. God is faithful. God gives and takes away. I am glad Hannah is here!
Happy Birthday, Hannah! You are loved! (And keep on fighting and being a little fiesty!)