I remember one of my first pregnancy appointments. I told the doctor I would be requesting an epidural and I would not consider induction unless I was way over my due date. I had done the research and knew exactly how I wanted my birth experience to go.
She just smiled at me.
I was planning for a million different things. I was planning for a snowstorm. I was planning for icy, slick roads. I was planning on needing an AWD vehicle to get me quickly, swiftly, and safely to the hospital because I just knew once my water broke, a massive snowstorm would hit.
I planned on experiencing my water breaking at any random point in February. I planned on feeling contractions until it was time to go to the hospital.
I planned. And planned. And planned.
Here's the thing about plans: you can make them, but God can--and usually will--change them.
As a control freak, many tears were shed when my doctor told me I had preeclampsia. My blood pressure was elevated and there was protein in my urine.
I drove home in disbelief.
I had done everything they told me to. Take my prenatal vitamins, drink 2 liters of water a day, refrain from putting anything bad in my body (not that I did before I was pregnant), limit coffee addiction to 1/2 a cup a day, give up lunch meat and exercise every day.
I did it all.
So why was I sick?
The doctor didn't have any answers. Could be genetics. Could be an underlying vascular issue. Could be my body freaking out because pregnancy is weird.
I went home and was told I was on bed rest. At 32 weeks. And regardless of how improved my body became--or didn't--I would be induced at 37 weeks. Possibly sooner.
But...
His lungs won't be fully developed.
What if he's jaundice?
What if he has problems feeding?
My doctor assured me she would take care of it all, but my body was in no position to carry this child beyond 37 weeks.
What about future pregnancies?
There were a lot of what if's that day. And a lot of scary moments where I had to sit a while with Jesus and ask him to give me peace in the middle of a storm I hadn't prepared for.
Psalm 23 instantly came to mind as I laid in bed and stared at the ceiling.
He maketh me lie down in green pastures:
he leadeth me beside still waters.
He restoreth my soul:
he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake.
It was at this point where I just had to let go and remind myself that God knows what he's doing. He has a plan and I take comfort in that his plans never fail me.
So, I took to bed rest unwillingly at first. And slept. And slept. And slept.
My appointments became more frequent--every Monday and Thursday for blood pressure checks and fetal monitoring.
Then at 34 weeks, my body gave out and I ended up in the hospital with outrageous blood pressure and high levels of uric acid in my blood. Nothing was worse than the blood pressure checks every 15 minutes. I didn't sleep well. I had to do a 24-hour urine sample collection. On top of that, I had two steroid shots to help develop baby's lungs.
I was miserable.
But baby was doing good.
It's funny how much we sacrifice for our children even before they exit the womb. Because I knew that regardless of how uncomfortable that hospital bed was, I was going to lay on my left side as long as I needed to in order to help lower my blood pressure and help with the flow of blood and oxygen to my son. My hip ached and so did my back, but I just laid there, willing myself to ignore the pain.
I went home 37 hours later after promising my doctor I would lay in bed all day long and not move unless it was to go to the bathroom. She looked at me like she didn't believe me. But she still released me after upping my blood pressure medication dose.
"I want to see you first thing Thursday morning. And pack your bag. You're probably going to have this baby this week."
More tears.
Three days later, I sat in her office with my father--who flew 1,500 miles to help take care of me--and my husband. The car was packed and I had made peace with having a c-section (not my original birth plan) and my poor little guy spending some time in the NICU (something else that wasn't in my original birth plan).
My blood pressure came back normal. My urine sample was good, but not excellent (sorry for the gross details). More blood was taken (my 9th time in 7 months), but my doctor happily sent me home. "See you Monday."
Monday's appointment went well. My blood work has returned to normal and I have reversed my symptoms. But I still have preeclampsia and it can still flare up at any time. Right now, with bed rest and medication, I'm managing. But my body is still not what it was. I'm more tired than usual and I have a hard time managing simple tasks, like making a sandwich or walking to the mailbox. It's probably due to the medication. And my overly-tired body.
Tomorrow morning, I go back to the doctor for a blood pressure check and non-stress test. As of right now, Alexander Dean is scheduled to enter the world on Tuesday, February 2nd, at 37 weeks. That could change at any moment. But I've made peace with that.
Here's what I've learned: you can't out-plan God. You just have to trust that the safest place to be is in the center of his will.
Because there really is no safer place to be.
--Jessi
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