Prayers for Healing

I have very little interaction with the outside world besides the internet these days. Blogspot.com, to me, is what feet are to the Little Mermaid (yes I'm the mother of an almost 3-year-old girl). I have been hesitant to share about some of the events of the last six weeks, but I am in a valley and need prayer.

For the last several months of my pregnancy I heard from the most well-intentioned people that I was "going to have my hands full." I love being a mom, it's the best job I could ever hope for, even if I don't always feel qualified. I dismissed their comments and did my best to keep my chin up, knowing that things would be different with 3. Then, my hands did get full, but not in any way I had imagined they would. I could handle 3 in diapers, loss of sleep, food fights and hair pulling and failed potty training attempts. But God saw fit to allow for something altogether different.

Six weeks before I delivered, I was diagnosed with Gestational Diabetes (I took the glucose test really late in the game.) For the last month or so, I followed a strict diet and took medications to try and reverse the effects on myself and our little girl. I had a scheduled induction because she was measuring over 9lbs and considered high-risk at 39 weeks.

The delivery went smoothly, but five minutes after she was born, she was showing signs of hypoglycemia and respiratory distress. I didn't even get to see her closely or hold her before the doctor and nurses hurried her off to the NICU for special care. It was a very emotional day. I was on an antibiotic and could not go to visit her for the first 24 hours. When I did finally get to see her, I could not hold her because of all the machines/IV's she was connected to. I remember being alone in my hospital room without my newborn baby by my side and feeling completely helpless, angry, hopeless. The next week was filled with sleepless nights as I was home with the older two kids during the day. Then, as soon as my husband got home from work and visiting the NICU, I would take my turn. I would cry leaving the house because the older two would scream and fuss at my departure. Then I would cry seeing our daughter all tubed up in the NICU, and cry even harder when I had to leave in time for my husband to get to work the next morning. They were long days, and I was certainly running on adrenaline.


Then, miraculously we were able to take our little girl home one week after her birthday. My mother-in-law, a close friend from out of state, my church family, and husband all pitched in and helped to make the next couple weeks a breeze! However, during this time I started realizing there might be something wrong with me. The healing process seemed different this time. I dismissed a lot of symptoms and carried on. Then one night at 4am, I woke up with a high fever. I took some tylenol and then started having CHILLS. I capitalize that word because they were worse than any chills I had ever had in my life- my teeth were chattering, and I begged my husband to help hold me still. This went on for about 48 hours. I was just getting ready to go to the doctor when the fever broke and I dismissed it as a a viral infection. I scheduled my 6-week check up one week early because my husband had a day off.

On Thursday the 26th, I went in and described my 'weird recovery' symptoms, the doctor immediately scheduled an ultrasound. I went and the look on the tech's face told me something was wrong. She told me to wait in the waiting area afterwards and she was going to call the doctor. (That didn't sound good at all!) The doctor had me come back to her office and told me that I had 'retained placenta.' She said it was common, but that it was likely infected and they needed to do a simple surgery called a D&C right away. So, my husband cancelled work to be home with the kids, and we scheduled it for the next day.

I woke up Friday the 27th, made breakfast for the fam, and a friend dropped me off at the hospital. Because I was an add on, I had to wait several hours to be squeezed in to the schedule for the operating room. I had a lot of time to sit and stare at blank walls and think. I mainly thought "wow this is the first time away from home in over 6 weeks, and I get to do THIS?!" I was put under general anesthesia, and had a really great nap. I woke up in the over-crowded recovery room and within 30-45 minutes I was discharged with a list of instructions/prescriptions. Another friend came to pick me up and a transport guy whisked me to the front entrance in a wheel chair.

This is where things get interesting. My friend Jackie picked me up around 5:30pm in her new light-grey interior hybrid Honda. The transport guy tossed me a hospital-grade blanket and said "here, keep it!" Something compelled me to sit on the blanket when I got in her car. We got about 5 minutes down the road and I said "Jackie, we need to pull over, I think I am bleeding!" I looked down and there were trickles of blood at my feet. When I got out of the car, the blanket was completely saturated. I wanted to just call 911 from the side of the road, but my dear friend insisted that I get back in and she'd drive me back to the ER. I made a wise decision to sit on the rubber mat she had on the floor boards. When we got back to the hospital, I stood up kinda traumatized. I looked down and blood had pooled in the large mat to the point that it was almost over-flowing. I threw it from the car and made a trail of blood into the ER.

I never got through the lobby of an emergency room so quickly! Everyone saw the blood and rushed me into an open room. I remember that the blood just kept coming and coming, and I remember a ton of people. I remember Jackie, an old roommate, kept asking me "um, do you want me to stay or go?" And I remember getting poked and prodded by a few doctors/nurses. When the shock wore off, I realized at some point I had gotten into a hospital gown, had not one but two IV's, and that my husband was there. The bleeding was under control, and they were going to monitor me overnight. This was one of the longest nights of my life...scared the bleeding would happen again, worried about my poor husband taking care of all three babies back at the house, that total utter sense of loneliness washed over me again, much like the night just 5 weeks back.

The next day I was discharged after numerous blood tests (why on earth would you draw MORE blood, FOUR TIMES, didn't I NEED THAT?!) but I was in the clear and did not need a blood transfusion, though I was right at the borderline. This last week has been one of recovery, but I appeal to you, my blog readers, for prayers. My body still is weak and has not healed. I am in a lot of cramping/pain and light bleeding. I want to be at 100% for my family. I want to be energetic for my toddlers. The spirit is willing, but the flesh is oh. so. weak. Please also pray for continued healing for our daughter, Olivia Grace. She suffers from pretty bad GERD/acid reflux and is on medications that don't seem to be helping too much. Pray wisdom for our Pediatrician.

I know God has much to teach me in this valley. One of those sleepless nights I was headed to the NICU, and this song came on the radio. I leave you with the chorus- it's been a big encouragement to me.

"What if Your blessings come through raindrops
What if Your healing comes through tears
What if a thousand sleepless nights
Are what it takes to know You’re near

What if trials of this life are Your mercies in disguise"