In looking back over my life easily the most life changing event was the birth of Skye. Most everyone has heard parts of the story, but let me try to put down in words some of the events and more importantly the emotions of those weeks.
We hadn't been planning on having children yet, we had planned to wait a few more years and be more stable first. But although unplanned, we were thrilled when we learned that we were expecting. The pregnancy news came with trials which can make up another story all by themselves, but ended up in us moving to Indiana. We settled in, David to a new job, and me into the nesting of motherhood. Throughout the pregnancy I felt an odd kinship to the biblical Hannah. I didn't understand it, my pregnancy was unexpected not sought after for years as hers had been. But still I felt this comradeship with her, like we were in a battle side by side.
Finally the day of birth arrived, I woke up in the throws of labor and all involved quickly settled into a routine. David and I were nervous with anticipation--today we would become parents! But labor didn't go as planned. I had started pushing at around 1:00pm and after hours of this no progress was being made. We consulted the drs, tried different approaches, and tried not to worry but to just concentrate on the task at hand. They didn't want to do a c-section, the baby was too stuck, but finally they became even more concerned about me and decided that they needed to do it. On my last effort before the c-section (after 7 hours of pushing) Skye was finally born.
He was covered in mecconium and immediately everyone there new there was a problem. They quickly tried suctioning him, but as I looked in his eyes I could see the fear and knew he wasn't ok. I got a brief glimpse of him as David carried him to the NICU to have him intubated. I was slipping in and out of conciousness, but I offered up one simple prayer repeatedly "Please Lord let me see my son again." I found out within a matter of minutes that Skye would need to be transfered to the children's hospital 3 hours away, but that they needed me to stay where I was at least overnight. So we gave our consent, they wheeled me over to see him again and touch his little hand before sending him off. One of the nurses handed me a polaroid snapshot of Skye that she had just taken--hooked up to machines, tubes running everywhere, and said "I thought you should have at least this, just in case." My heart was breaking and I knew the drs and nurses weren't confident that Skye would even make the transfer, but God had already given me peace that I would see my son again and I was holding onto that. So I was left with David to try to sleep holding a polaroid instead of being able to hold my baby.
Before Skye even made it to the children's hospital the drs from there called to let us know the steps that they would be taking. It was a list of first this, if that doesn't work, then this, etc. The last step they mentioned was ECMO-- a heart lung bypass machine, but they assured us that was a last resort.
We didn't get much sleep that night, but God was with us. God was all we had to cling to and David and I did just that. We hadn't expected this day to end like this--we were battered physically and even more so emotionally. Our baby was hours away in the other people's care, and we had no control over the outcome. I think that was a big lesson for both David and I, we are both a bit of planning and control freaks and this was completely beyond our worst case scenarios we had played out in our minds, and it was something that we had no way to control at all. I couldn't even think beyond the simple prayer I had uttered of just let me see Skye one more time, anything beyond that was just too overwhelming to think about.
I'll try to abbreviate the story here, we got to the children's hospital the following afternoon, and yes, I got to see Skye again. He was hooked up to even more machines, had on earmuffs to block out sounds, a towel over his eyes to block out light, was heavily sedated to keep him asleep, and we were told to try not to touch him, but we could hold his hand momentarily. For me it was enough just to see him. God had answered my prayer as He had promised. I didn't have the strength to ask Him for more.
As we walked through the hospital we saw children being pulled in wagons by their parents on "walks". Most had IVs or other medical equipment in tow as they were pulled up and down corridors just to get out of their rooms. You could see the simple joy that this brought to the kids in what had to be long hard days and nights for them being treated at the hospital. But even with the heartache I knew they must be going through I found myself envious of these parents- they were able to touch and interact with their children. I discovered I had one more prayer in me for God, "Please let me be able to hold my baby, just once."
It was in the next few days that I grew to realize where my connection with the Biblical Hannah came from. She had promised God to give her child back to Him if she could only have him for a little while. I felt that was what was being asked of me, was I willing to give my child back to God for His plans and purpose and not mine? In my constant talks to God I discovered that I was able to do that-not that I wanted to, but I was able to. I did tell God that I still wanted my prayer that I would be able to hold Skye at least once, but that I was letting go of Skye for my purposes and he was God's to do with as only He knows best.
The hours and days blurred by, I felt like I was a walking zombie- isolated from the outside world, and just going through the motions of life. Each morning we came in to hear the latest Drs report which always included a % of chance of survival for Skye. It didn't seem to be changing by the day, which that in itself wasn't a very encouraging sign. On Saturday, October 27th we heard that dreaded word again, ECMO. That evening the doctors explained that they had done everything they could but it hadn't been good enough, so the last resort was the only option left. They asked for permission to do the surgery to put Skye on the heart lung bypass machine. The machine would be pumping and oxygenating his blood so that his heart and lungs could rest and heal until they were able to do the job again. I felt like screaming at the doctors at this point--this was the last resort they had said we shouldn't have to reach, this was the last step, what if this didn't work? There was no last option after this. But instead of screaming like I wanted to I nodded my head and David gave the permission that we had to give. I sat next to Skye until the last moment I could before giving him a kiss on his head, telling him I loved him, and turning and walking out of the room. I fell into my family's arms as we cried and prayed together.
David and I walked the halls and held each other for the hour or two that the surgery took to perform. Finally one of the doctors showed up in the waiting room to take us back to see Skye again. When we saw him I knew that this had been what he needed. For the first time since his birth he actually looked like he was resting instead of fighting a losing battle.
Skye stayed on ECMO for 5 days. And on an aside let me just say thank you to any of you that have ever given blood. It took 7 units just to get him hooked up to the unit, and an additional 2 units a day to keep Skye on it.
When the drs came in and said that they thought Skye was ready to come off the heart/lung bypass I think I was more nervous than when they had put him on it. What if he crashed? what if he hadn't really healed? ECMO had become my security blanket keeping Skye alive, would he survive without it? When they did the surgery my mom and I paced the halls anxiously, poor David was at home waiting for my call to say how the surgery went (David had been driving the 3 hours back and forth between home and the hospital since Skye's birth, spending 1 1/2 days in each place- he couldn't miss work as he was paid on commission and we had no savings-- before heading back to the other). It was with much relief that I saw Skye that night. While he was still on a ventilator and numerous other devices and tubes his heart was beating a normal beat and he didn't seem to be straining.
November 2, Skye was eleven days old and I finally got to hold him that evening for the very first time. It was a feat getting him transferred from the bed to my arms with his tubes and everything everywhere, but the nurses and I finally managed it. As I sat and held him for the 1st time I couldn't believe that I was actually holding him, allowed to touch him, hold him close. I just kept thanking God for allowing me this moment, for getting us through to this point. I beamed with pride when David arrived to see me holding Skye. It was hard to leave the hospital that night, to put Skye back in his bed. But I knew Skye was in God's hand, he was God's child not mine.
The next morning we got to the hospital early to see Skye. I remember the Drs coming in for their daily rounds and being shocked when they handed us a 3 page list of side effects to expect. I smiled as I looked over the list, I think it surprised the Dr., but I responded, every day I've heard a % chance of survival when you came in. Today you are telling me about side effects, that must mean he's going to make it.
I wont go into the details of the following weeks of our stay at the Children's Hospital, but we were blessed. Skye got better, faster than anyone had predicted even in a best case scenario. We were home at 3 weeks, when they had predicted 2 months at best. As Skye got older we kept looking for side effects, and so far haven't seen any. Skye still has a scar on his neck from the surgeries, butno one else even notices it and that is my reminder of what a miracle he is.
Every day I thank God for letting us be a part of Skye's life. Yes, even in the days when I'm frustrated and ready to pull my hair out, I thank God that I got to have a day like that with Skye. Even the bad days are a blessing as I didn't think I'd have any days past that one where I got to finally hold him. Skye is now 6 years old, and I think a part of me still wonders each day that I've been given another day with him. We are blessed.
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