It’s nearly a year late (I can’t believe I’m going to be the mother of a one year old in three short weeks). And the reason for the delay is simple. Thinking / typing / talking about the day that Clara was born still scares the pants off of me. Even 11+ months later. This little lady made quite the dramatic entrance.
Yup, the day that Clara came into the world was the most amazing life-changing day of my existence, but it was easily also the single most terrifying one. I’ve mentioned some details a few times in comments on other Clara-related posts (many readers wanted to know all about the bean’s birth right away) but I think now that she’s almost a year old I’ve processed that day enough to really share it fully with the interweb. By no means am I over it (don’t really know if I ever will be), but I can talk about it now without crying. So that’s a start, right? A few friends of mine have actually recommend that I write this post as part of the whole healing process (a lot of the posts that we write are actually for our own benefit since this is just an online diary to document our lives for our own selfish purposes, haha). So I thought it made sense. I know that how Clara came into the world will affect future pregnancies and how nervous/anxious/wary/afraid I’ll be if any of the same complications pop up again, so perhaps talking about it after processing it for almost a year might help me come to terms with it a bit more. So here it goes (deep breaths, deep breaths).
I had an amazing low risk fabulous pregnancy. No high blood pressure. No weird pains. Over 100 days of morning sickness (yes I counted) but that’s to be expected. Or at least tolerated in the name of baking a human. Other than that (and once that ended) it was amazeballs as my girl Bethenny Frankel would say. I felt great. I loved feeling my little bean kicking around in there. I basked in the glory of being prego. I told John I could do it ten more times. Life was good.
My tiny 4’11” mom had two natural (and very fast) child births, so I had high hopes of a normal (if not very quickly progressing) delivery. Maybe without drugs, and maybe with them. I wasn’t going into it with any strong feelings either way, but I had taken some classes on pain management and learned about The Bradley Method so I was actually feeling very bring-it-on by the end. Either way I kept telling myself “in the end the baby will be out and I’ll get to meet her, so no fear is allowed – it’s going to be a happy day – with drugs or without them. No pressure. Just try to go with the flow and relax.” I had orders to “run, don’t walk” to the hospital if I had any signs of labor (my mother had me in four hours and my brother within two) so that had me a little on edge, but the only thing I worried about was having the baby at home or in the car since I feared it would all happen really fast because that runs in the family.
John was working downtown at the time and I was at home without a car (we’re a one car family, so he’d take the car during the day and after he came home we’d run any errands I needed to do). So admittedly the whole being at home without the car thing was kind of scary but I knew about fifty neighbors who volunteered to drive me to the hospital if things got crazy and John couldn’t make it home to get me in time. The funny thing is that he answered his cell phone on the first half-a-ring for the last two weeks of my pregnancy, so I knew he was on high alert and was confident that he’d hightail it home in time (it was only a 15 minute drive).
I never felt a single contraction (not even Braxton Hicks) until the day I went into labor, but I knew I was dilated to a 3.5 at 39 weeks (yes I walked around at a 3.5 without going into labor with my first child, which I hear is really uncommon). Clara must have been holding onto the walls in there. So although I was still about a week “early,” my doc said I was going to have the baby any second. Hence John being on high alert. Oh yeah and my belly looked like this. I was officially ready to pop.
I noticed on the morning of May 14th (it was a Friday) that I was having some pretty intense contractions. My first contractions ever (well that I felt). At first they were oddly irregular so I thought it was just prelabor (didn’t even tell John because I didn’t want him to get all crazy and come running home for a false alarm). But slowly they started to establish a pattern and by the time I started timing them they were just four minutes apart. And they were an 11 on the pain scale. I felt like my insides were ripping apart and my back was killing me. I called John who was out to lunch with all of his coworkers to celebrate his very last day at the office (he was resigning to come on full time as a dad/blogger) and told him to get the eff home. He laughed about how good my timing was because he was just finishing his burrito. I groan-cried in the middle of a contraction and he knew I meant business. So home he came flew.
By the time we got to the hospital my contractions were already two minutes apart. I remember having a hard time even walking from the car to the door because they were just coming nonstop and they were bring-you-to-your-knees painful. I thought I might have a baby right there in the parking lot. They sent me straight into labor and delivery. As we waited for the doctor to arrive and check my progress my water broke in the hospital bed- but instead of being clear it was red. So much blood. Very scary. I didn’t even see most of it (thanks to my giant belly and the sheet over my lower half) but John did along with my OB who happened to be in the room. John’s face went white and the OB snapped into hyperdrive.
Immediately the room filled with frenzied nurses and doctors and they explained that I was having a placental abruption, which happens when the placenta has inexplicably detached from the uterine wall. This is very bad news before the baby is born. And it explains the feels-like-my-body-is-ripping-apart pain I’d been experiencing. It’s an extremely dangerous complication for the baby (since they get their nourishment from the placenta and can go into shock and die) and the mother can hemorrhage (and can also die in cases of extreme bleeding). So it was a pretty dire situation all around (although nobody stopped to explain it, the look on the doctor and nurse’s faces kind of said it all).
Within about a minute they had me in the OR and within three minutes they had sweet baby Clara out thanks to an amazingly fast emergency c-section. They saved her life by acting so fast.
It was a blur. All I remember was them running my gurney into the walls while turning corners in the hallway trying to get me into an ER as fast as possible. They looked panicked. And it scared the heck out of me. I didn’t care about me or my body – just the baby. I remember screaming inside of my head “just cut her out of me, cut and I don’t care if I feel pain or if I get hurt or if I have scars all over, just save her. Do it right here in the hallway if you have to.” Of course my lips weren’t moving. It was one of those out-of-body mind screams that nobody else can hear.
John suddenly wasn’t with me. They just left him behind and ran with me down the hall calling up to get emergency doctors and nurses on hand since the main OR was already in use for a scheduled c-section. I remember people popping out of doorways saying “I’ll help” and joining the frenzied mob and going over all of my stats (blood type, number of weeks prego, etc) while saying things like “baby in distress” and “profuse bleeding.” I couldn’t have created a scarier nightmare scenario in my head if I tried. Lots of people swarmed into the OR in the next thirty seconds. But no John. I could barely breathe at the thought of something going so wrong without him by my side. Once they had me fully prepped for surgery (which happened within less than a minute, they were so amazing) someone must have run off to get him.
I wish I could say it was thanks to me calling out for him but I was in shock so I couldn’t talk or even move. I was frozen. It almost felt like I wasn’t even there and I was watching it all happen to someone else on TV. John says he remembers standing in the hallway as everyone ran off with me. So freaked out and completely alone. Just waiting. That always makes me cry when I think about it. I didn’t know it at the time because of the chaos, but someone had tossed scrubs at him when I was being wheeled out (he would need them since it had to be a sterile environment for the c-section) so he was just standing there in the hallway wearing his scrubs and waiting. And going crazy. Finally someone came out to retrieve him and he was allowed to come hold my hand right as they started to cut. I just stared at him. I was frozen. I didn’t cry. I didn’t talk. I was just in shock at how quickly everything was happening.
Once they opened me up they saw that not only was Clara in distress from the placental abruption, but the umbilical cord had somehow been pinched (which is called “cord prolapse”) so she was without oxygen while fighting to make it through the abruption. I heard them toss out the word “cord prolapse” (they didn’t have time to explain what was going on, so I learned the details later) but in my odd state of panic and shock I thought they were talking about someone else. I was the one with a placental abruption. The scariest page of my birth book at home. The one I didn’t even read because it wouldn’t happen to me because I didn’t have high blood pressure or any of the other risk factors. My baby couldn’t also be dealing with cord prolapse. How could that be? Who could be that unlucky? Then they said “she’s not going to cry ok – don’t wait for her to cry just try to stay calm and breathe slowly.” That was when my heart broke and I started to cry. I guess I was crying for her.
I couldn’t see anything thanks to the screen they threw up before cutting into me, but they were right. She didn’t cry when they yanked her out with all of their might. All I remember was extreme pressure but no pain. Well, no physical pain. Emotional pain = off the charts. They had NICU specialists standing by, and when I heard them say “NICU” out loud that it was the first time I actually thought “what if this doesn’t end the way I thought it always would? What if all those pep talks I gave myself about it being a happy day because “drugs or no drugs I would get to meet my sweet baby girl” weren’t going to be true?
John later admitted that thought had hit him a lot earlier than it had hit me. He said he knew something was very wrong when he saw all the blood before they whisked me away. And when he was standing alone in the hallway after I got wheeled off to the OR he wondered if things were about to end badly. See why that visual of him in the hall makes me cry? It was just so surreal and terrifying. John later confessed that once he was allowed into the OR to hold my hand that he couldn’t really watch as they pulled her out of me, even though he was much taller than the screen they had set up to block my view. Not because he was afraid of the blood or passing out, but because he didn’t want to see our baby “not make it.”
But after about one felt-like-eternity minute they got her to moan. Kind of like a kitty meowing. It was so soft and weak and just heart breaking. I remember thinking “I want her to cry so she’s ok, but I don’t want to hear her if she’s not going to be ok because I’m falling in love already. I can’t hear her moan and then fall silent- she has to start wailing. Right now!” But no dice. I remember thinking that all the silence felt so loud. Like it was almost deafening to listen so desperately for some sign of a cry. Clara got a 4 on her initial Apgar test, which we later heard is usually the lowest score you can get before permanent brain damage if things don’t improve by the five minute Apgar retest. They didn’t announce the time of birth or her weight very loudly or say anything like in the movies, you know like “it’s a girl!” or “happy birthday!” or “what’s her name?” and she didn’t come lay on my chest. I still couldn’t even see her thanks to the screen they had put up to block the surgery. They were all just working on this baby that I couldn’t even see. My baby. And I just stared at John in a silent freeze, tears in my eyes but nothing coming out of my mouth. At some point after closing me up the doctor said “she’s bleeding – she reopened, get over here” and half of the team ran back to work on me. My incision which had been sewn and stapled shut had reopened and I could hear from the doctors tone that it wasn’t an ideal situation. But I still wasn’t scared for me. In any other scenario it would have been intensely alarming, but I had a one track mind: the baby. I want to hear the baby cry.
It felt like five years went by (in reality it was less than five minutes) but slowly the people working on me thinned out and the people working on Clara seemed to start moving more casually and slower. As if it wasn’t such an emergency anymore. I remember thinking “this is either a very good or a very bad sign.” Thankfully, by her five minute Apgar test she pinked up, cried a glorious and spirited cry, and got a 9 (we later learned that the five minute Apgar retest is the most important and revealing one). They said that a 9 was as close to perfect as it gets and that even super healthy children rarely get 10s. And they told us that it was so great that she rebounded so well and was looking fantastic. She was a fighter for sure. They even let John go over and see her (I was still strapped down so I had to wait).
She wasn’t out of the woods yet, but we didn’t know that at the time, so we started to rejoice and John even took some video on the iPhone to bring back over to show to me since I hadn’t even laid eyes on her yet (we were so lucky that the iPhone happened to be in John’s pocket before all hell broke lose, otherwise we wouldn’t have any documentation of Clara’s birth at all). We later learned they were somehow testing her cord blood to see if she was without oxygen for so long that she sustained permanent brain damage. Only when the test came back all-clear (indicating that there were no worries of that) did the nurses and doctors really seem to relax.
Apparently infants who live after a placental abruption have a 40-50% chance of complications, which range from mild to severe (and sometimes mothers who survive end up with a hysterectomy to control the hemorrhaging). Only then did it start to sink in how lucky we really had been. And what a miracle our baby girl really is.
Finally, after what literally felt like days, they wrapped her up and brought her over to me. My arms were strapped down from the surgery, so John held her right near my head and I just stared at her in disbelief. I was still in shock, and bloated with fluids from the IV along with fear and disbelief and unconditional love.
What did I do to deserve such a happy ending? How would I have survived coming home empty handed to a beautiful nursery that I shared with the world while being so confident that I was guaranteed a cute little baby to put in that crib? Basically it was the scariest day of our lives, and I still ask why. Why me (in that annoying “poor me” way) and why me (in the “why-was-I-so-lucky-she-was-spared” way). But the main thing I feel is full. Of relief. Of gratitude. Of love for my little fighter. My little miracle. I’m SO THANKFUL that the doctors and nurses worked so quickly to come to her (and my) rescue. I’ll never know for sure, but if another team had been on duty I don’t know that I would have had the same outcome. They were just so on it. So invested and so amazing. And I can’t even begin to think about what could have happened if I wasn’t in the hospital when I started bleeding.
Other nurses and doctors in the hospital dropped in to see us for days just to tell us how lucky we were (news of our complications were apparently the talk of the hospital). We even had a friend on another floor (coincidentally she was there on the same day that I went into labor for a pre-term labor scare) who had overheard nurses and doctors talking about “that woman who had both a cord prolapse and a placental abruption at the same time but the baby actually survived.” Only later did she find out that it was me they were talking about. I still get chills when I think about that. How lucky we were. How scary it was. And how gorgeous and amazing that little girl in my arms was. And still is.
So that’s the story of the scariest/best day of our lives. Whew. No wonder we’re obsessed with the girl.
As for if those complications are more likely to occur with any subsequent pregnancies, cord prolapse is totally random and can happen to anyone, so it doesn’t become more likely if you’ve experienced it before (but it’s rare, so if you’re prego and reading this story know that my combination of complications were about as likely as winning the lottery). However, placental abruption is more likely to reoccur (around one in four women experience it again) and it can happen as early as around twenty weeks (when the baby isn’t viable yet, which means the baby wouldn’t make it). So it can be devastating and scary. I have strict orders to wait at least two full years between pregnancies to let everything heal up nice and strong, which probably means over three years between Clara and her younger brother or sister, assuming all goes well. I’m fine with the wait since I’m happy to just enjoy Clara for a while and take that time to continue to process the whole birth experience and build up my courage. But I’m sure when I’m pregnant again I’ll be much less happy go lucky about it.
Which is really sad. John keeps begging me to let it be the same joyful and unabashedly exciting time as it was before. But I know myself. And I’ll be on high alert. Searching for any signs or symptoms that something’s wrong. And scared even if there aren’t any signs of trouble (because there weren’t any before I started feeling contractions with Clara- it just all came out of nowhere). I’m scared that I might even be afraid to get a nursery ready. You know, so as not to jinx things. So my plan is to know myself, and accept that I’m going to be scared. But to do my best to enjoy it as much as I can and remind myself that I now know what an abruption feels like (so I should instantly be able to identify it) and that I have more information than I had with Clara (plus the doctors also know about my history now that I’ve had it happen). So I’ll hopefully have just as good of an outcome should it reoccur, as long as it doesn’t happen before the baby is developed enough to be delivered.
But I’m not gonna lie. I’m going to be petrified.
I also might be a “high risk” pregnancy next time without any chance of natural labor (if signs of another abruption occur they’ll rush me to a c-section if the baby is old enough to live outside the womb). I’m ok with that. Anything for a healthy baby. Now not only am I open when it comes to drugs or no drugs, I’m totally down with a c-section too. Slice and dice, baby. Whatever it takes.
Dani says
What an incredible story…definitely did the old crying at work thing! I am so glad you were at such a wonderful place and able to get the help that you and Clara needed right away. Thank you so much for sharing, it must have taken so much courage to write this all down.
Lina says
You have such a beautiful little girl! Thanks for sharing your story:) Here is a big cyber hug from all of us!
Kara says
I have to tell you, I was six months pregnant when Clara was born and you first mentioned the placental abruption in a post. I went to my next prenatal exam all, “A GIRL ON THE INTERNET HAD A PLACENTAL ABRUPTION,” And I made my doctor hash out every ugly detail of what would happen in case of placental abruption or cord prolapse. Then in the delivery room when my water broke and it was clear I made sure to confirm with the nurse that there was no aburption, and she laughed at me. Which is to say this story had a profound effect on me without even knowing the whole story. I had imagined what a horrifying experience that must have been for you, and reading this made me sob a little. You are so blessed.
Maureen says
Wow. Thank you for sharing this. Your story brought me to tears, mostly of joy for your miracle ending. Clara is one lucky girl to have parents like you. :)
Lisa says
Just cried my face off reading your story. Thank you for sharing. I’m a midwife in training and as much as stories like yours scare the crap out of me, they also are a powerful reminder about the miracle of life and modern medicine. I’m so glad you and your little angel stayed earthside!!!
Rachael Agee says
Sherry,
First off let me thank you for posting this. As hard as I know it has been for you.
I was a high risk child when I was born 7 weeks early and weighing in at 3lbs 2oz. My mother also had both of the same conditions that you faced. However, I did not get the all clear as fast as Clara did due to my small size and being early. My mother nearly lost her life during my birth and for the longest time I never knew the story of my birth. That was until about 2 years ago. My mom decided it was time that I know about the day that I made my grand entrance and grand she said it was. I also had the OR a frenzy of activity. I also learned that 2 years before me, my older brother had also entered the world the same way. My older brother entered the world at 2lbs 1oz. Sadly to say my older brother did not make it, he passed 5 days after he was born. Knowing the difficulties that my mother faced my husband and I are now trying to have a child of our own and proceeding with every cautionary task we have to to make sure that we are prepared and ready for whatever lies ahead. Again thank you for sharing this touching and inspiring tale of how cute little cuddle bug Clara came to be. I fully admit that through out the post I cried not because of fear of what could have been, but because of what you lived through and the sensational, adorable, and wonderful little girl that you now have even though if sometimes it can be a scary reminder.
Thanks Again
YoungHouseLove says
I’m so sorry for the loss of your brother. What a strong and wonderful woman your mom was to fight through that and nurture you when you came along so early.
xo,
s
Ann says
Thank you for sharing this. My husband and I are talking about starting a family but I’m terrified because my grandmother did not make it through the birth of her first child and she’s not the only one in my family. I know I may be irrational in my fear but it is really comforting to hear about nightmares, how you work through them and how modern medicine has changed a lot and that there is hope. Hearing stories like yours gives me a little more courage because I know, not from experience but from stories like yours, it is worth it in the end.
Jen says
Thanks for sharing your story. I felt so many emotions reading it–from sadness to anxiety to happiness. I’m so glad Clara (and her mom!) are such fighters! And I hope telling your story helped you deal with the birth experience a little better. I can just imagine how hard it was to write this and share it.
Ally says
Wow! I don’t have children and I am not a super emotional girl but your story got me! I am so glad you decided to share this, not only is Clara super adorable but she really is a little miracle.
Katy says
A true miracle. God is good!
Just remember, God would never give you anything you couldn’t handle. So although you had to go through the scariest day ever- He provided you with a loving, supportive husband by your side, an amazing team of doctors, and the tiniest little fighter (aka Clara) to go through it with you! And you have been so blessed!
Way to go, and thanks for sharing. It helped remind me that life is short and precious, and that modern day miracles are happinging everywhere.
Liz says
WOW. That was emotional and intense! I’m so glad you were able to experience that amazing miracle with the little Bean. You all are one blessed family. Congrats and thank you for sharing! =)
Colleen says
Sherry (and John),
What a beautiful account of your traumatic birth experience. My husband and I went through a very similar abruption experience with the birth of our second child (right down to my husband being left behind in his scrubs) 16 years ago. It was then that I adopted the phrase, “they call babies a miracle for a reason!” Today our miracle is a handsome, healthy, musically and intellectually gifted 16 year old boy who is heading to his first prom in a few weeks. It seems like the years have flown, but in reading your account of Clara’s birth through my tear-filled eyes, it seems like the emotions are just as fresh as if it happened yesterday. Enjoy your gift, Clara, every day. She is truly a miracle!
Jen says
Wow, Sherry thank you for your bravery in sharing such an emotional and personal story. I’m 9 weeks pregnant with my first right now and this was a big reality check for me. I’m still in those apprehensive early stages of my pregnancy so anything may happen, but your story was a reminder that creating new life is an incredibly fragile thing. I definitely intend to enjoy my pregnancy as much as I can, but I now firmly agree that whatever eventually needs to happen to deliver this baby safely is fine by me. Thanks again for sharing, and enjoy that beautiful baby of yours as much as you can!
Phoebe says
I’m crying while reading this. You’re a brave, amazing mother. Good luck with any future pregnancies. I think it’s amazing that you’re emotionally strong enough to have more babies in the future.
My best friend, who also reads your blog daily, is pregnant. I called her to tell her to read immediately but have some tissues.
Amanda says
Aw, you guys . . . Thoughts and prayers for any future beans . . .
Dum says
Well, congratulations on a healthy baby in the end. I’m rather terrified of child birth myself, even though I’m male and not due to have children for several years. The main reason is that babies in my family appears to have the habit of jumping out way, way too early. My half sister was born several months early, but I don’t know her much. However, my sister had a baby last year that was born literally the week after that it is even remotely possible for a baby to survive. What makes it scarier, though, is that the only reason that she didn’t have him the week before is because the hospital managed to give him another week with drugs.
Even then, though, she was at the hospital for three months before they got to go home. They’re so incredibly small and fragile. He could’t more or less fit in your hand…terrifying, I tell you. He’s a very healthy, smart and brilliant somewhat-older-than-a-year-depending-on-how-you-count now.
Anyway…that’s that.
Jen @ The Decor Scene says
Thank you so much for sharing your story! I’m still crying. Trying not to let any of my co-workers see me crying. I can’t even finish reading it right now because I keep crying. Thank you again for sharing your emtional scary wonderful story. Lots of HUGS to all of you!!!
Kara says
Actually, maybe you didn’t mention that you had a plaental abruption only that it was an emergency c-section and I deduced the rest. Either way, it freaked me out!
YoungHouseLove says
I think I tossed them in lightly but never explained anything and added lots of cute baby pics to bury it. I couldn’t get into it then, you know? Too freakishly fresh.
xo,
s
Aliesha says
Thank you for sharing this! I cried the whole way through it. It really makes me thankful for my “normal” delivery…and it is a reminder that that is NOT just a given!
Christi says
Whew! I’m still blinking back tears. I’m so happy that everything turned out well. I so look forward to seeing Clara pictures when I read the blog. :)
I’m 12 weeks pregnant with my first…
Michelle says
Holy. Crap. That’s all I can say. You had me in tears. But I am sooooooooo (times infinity^100) that everything came around perfectly in the end. Clara’s birth might not have been the vision you imagined, but her being able to pull through such a crisis is an even bigger feat. Clara is a natural born fighter; if she survived that, she can survive anything!
I am so very happy that Clara is here with us (er, virtually at any rate) today. Her funny little videos always brighten up my days. Thank you so much for bringing an amazing little girl to the world and for sharing your story.
<3<3<3
Tara says
I don’t know if this well help, but I have learned from my own experience without the happy ending that there is nothing you can do. We have very little control, even though we like to trick ourselves into thinking that we do. So don’t stress and don’t worry next time around. I’m so happy that your story ended well. Happy Birthday, Clara!
Jen says
It’s been almost 2 years since my emergency c-section and I can barely think about it without crying. My sweet baby boy’s chord was wrapped around his chest. After the c-section I had some heart issues (never had heart problems before) and had to stay in the cardiac unit for 24 hours. I was not allowed to see my baby. My poor husband had to go back and forth between floors (I asked that he spend all his time with the baby so I was mostly alone). Not at all the natural drug free birth I had expected. I’d love to have another child but we’re still too scared. You are helping a lot of people know they aren’t alone and that a horrific birth can still yield a magnificent baby.
Lola says
I have read your blog forever but this is the first time I’ve commented. I am 8 months pregnant and your story really hit home for me. I have been so lucky to have an easy pregnancy that I’ve never thought about the risks involved during labor. I am so happy your story ended well, it has been a major reality check for me. Thank you for sharing.
sistakt says
Thank you for sharing your story. It was super intense, scary and tear inducing- but also a story of love, hope, courage, and strength. I am so excited for Clara and your family. Now… I need to try to breathe again.
Ann says
Thank you for sharing your story with us. So happy and proud of you and John both. A family a warriors!
Carmen says
Thanks for sharing your amazing story and Congratulations once again on your healthy/happy baby girl.
On another note I found this on apartment therapy and thought of you guys, hope you like it, I think the colors are like your napkin but not sure : )
http://www.crateandbarrel.com/The-Marimekko-Shop/
YoungHouseLove says
Wahoo! Looks like so much fun. Off to play…
xo,
s
Kit says
I am sobbing over here! What a beautiful and traumatic story. I am pregnant right now and completely freaked out, but it helps to hear such a lovely and happy ending! Clara is beautiful and lucky to have such a brave mom and dad. :)
Amie says
My heart’s racing after reading this, and I don’t have the words to express what I’m feeling. Empathy, sympathy and happiness for you all bundled up I guess.
My son, who’s now 6, had a traumatic birth and scored exactly the same as Clara on the apgars. The doctors wouldn’t tell me what his first score was until after the five minute one was done. The silence is deafening when a newborn isn’t crying. The lifetime of loss I felt in those first five minutes rocked me to my core and I genuinely believe his birth made me a better mother to him and to my 8 year old.
During your next pregnancy, the best advice I could give, would be to face the fear like you faced the sewing project; determination, persistence and in the end joy. With John, Clara and Berger by your side, you’ll have everything you need .. including the right sized bobbin! Happy early first mother’s day to you and first birthday to Clara
Stacy says
Sherry, what a beautifully written, deeply moving story. Thank you for sharing it with us. Our first child was also an emergency c-section due to placental complications. He’s our miracle baby. That was eight years ago this April. We’ve since had two more children. Each is a gift one feels unworthy of receiving. Such a brave little one, your Clara. Makes this upcoming birthday celebration that much more meaningful.
Stefanie A says
Sherry,
You are so strong and so brave to share this story of Clara’s birth. It brought me to tears and amazed me.
Kathleen says
Thank you for sharing this. I am a midwife and I wholeheartedly believe that it is immensely helpful to share birth stories, esp. the hard ones. It really takes a long time to process and get perspective about what happened and to try and understand the “why.”
I really believe that “the story that is shareable is bearable.”
Jessica K. says
I just cried some tears for your experience and hugged my own baby boy a little tighter. thanks for sharing.
Jenny says
I too had a difficult delivery six months ago. Reading your story made all those emotions come back. Thank you for sharing your story.
Angie says
Thanks so much for sharing! I’ve had two placenta abruptions–my last ds was born 6 weeks early–thankfully I was in intensive care on bedrest when the placenta abrupted, so they got him out in about 5 minutes. I was put completely out, and dh stood outside the OR door–he couldn’t come in because I was totally under. DS was in the NICU for about 2 weeks, and now is a fat and healthy 5 month old. I completely understand the fear going into a new pregnancy after having an experience like that. Something that helped me was not to focus on ‘having a baby’–focus on what you can do TODAY–take your vitamins, eat healthy food, exercise, ect. We didn’t tell people about ds #2 until I was 20 weeks pregnant–the day was had the ultrasound and got a healthy report. And I didn’t set up a nursery at all. I just took it one day at a time, and honestly didn’t think about being pregnant or the baby all that much–I just focused on being healthy and taking good care of myself. I know that sounds weird, but that’s how I kept myself sane. Big hugs!!!! I enjoy your blog so much, and am so happy that your story had a happy ending!!!
bonniek says
Wow. I’m teared up and feeling truly impressed with your strength Sherry. And John. What a frightening experience for both of you. It sounds like you’re feeling very healthy as far as a next pregnancy, don’t be afraid to be afraid. You know yourself, and that’s okay. John’s lucky to have two strong fighting ladies in his life. Sending you a hug girl.
Anne Anderson says
I couldn’t breathe while reading this post, my husband & I lost our first to a placental abruption the day after our due date. Your words immitated mine in so many ways…
No risk factors, completely healthy – just like me. It’s unbelievable how these complications can arise and I am so grateful to know that both you and your precious girl came out of it okay. I hope writting this out has helped you, it has helped me remember that I’m not entirely alone and for that thank you, so much.
Sending each of you all my love & when the time comes for your second pregnancy know you’ll be in my prayers :)
~ Anne.
YoungHouseLove says
I am so so so sorry for your loss Anne. You are definitely not alone and I’ll be thinking about you.
xo,
s
Elisa says
Wow, what a story! I feel for you guys – and that visual of John standing in the hallway in unbelievable.
Also, lighting doesn’t strike twice, right?! And apparently it’s even more common then hitting the lottery. So statistically…
On a more serious note, you guys sound like such grateful people and I love it. Things like this must happen to remind us of all we *do* have. And knowing you guys, I think you’ll be totally excited if/when the time comes for beany numero due/tre/quattro/cinque… you get the point. And if you’re planning a Duggar family you should probably tell us.
YoungHouseLove says
Haha, nope no Duggar plans for us. We’re both one of four but two or three have always sounded nice to us. We’re in the take-it-one-kid-at-a-time camp, so it should be interesting to see where we end up.
xo,
s
Elisa says
That’s good! As much fun as pregnancy sounds (can you tell I haven’t done it?) twenty years of it might be a little much.
Also, I just saw this on offbeatmama! http://offbeatmama.com/2011/04/diy-handmade-felt-hats
Sewing machine optional, hah!
YoungHouseLove says
Those are so cute!
xo,
s
Windy says
I am so happy everything turned out okay, Clara is a doll,and you and john rock. many blessings to you and your fam!
Lindsay says
Thank you for sharing your story. I am sitting at my desk holding back tears. I can understand your worry and concern about future pregnancies after recently experiencing a miscarriage that rocked my world (and my husbands). Thank you, thank you, thank you for sharing. It lets me know I am not the only one with these feelings. I so enjoy following your blog, especially the Clara post. She is absolutely beautiful. Thanks again!
Elizabeth says
My sister in law had the very same thing happen, except she was at home when a flood of blood came out in her kitchen, where she collapsed :( Lucky for her there were paramedics a block down the road eating at a local restaurant. They didn’t even let her husband into the ambulance, because they really thought both the mother and the baby would die. There was just so much blood. When we came to visit her, and she told us the story, it truly was a tear jerker. When they finally got to the hospital, my brother in law said she was gray and cold. They had her propped head down while they brought her in. There must have been an angle at her side, with all that played out in this scary birth story. This was her second baby, her first being completely normal and natural delivery. So, yes it can be totally random unfortunately :( He was also a month early!
Her little boy seems to have suffered somewhat, as there are a few developmental delays.
So happy that your birth story has a happy healthy baby in it :) I would be on high alert too if I were you, but try and be joyful at the same time.
Kayla says
What an amazing story, thanks for sharing!
Also, this has to be a record number of comments for something that is not a giveaway!!!! I think its obvious that your real-ness makes us all feel like we are close personal friends of yours. =)
Francis C. Moore says
God is the Great Physician, and I would say He gave you a Miracle that day. She is a beautiful little girl.
bhh says
For reasons I cannot bring myself to explain, thank you, Sherry, for a touching and truly beautiful piece.
Nicole B says
Thanks for sharing! What a remarkable story… very important for the moms-to-be to read for those who think they will have a smooth pregnancy/birth. My friend is hoping hers will be “just like her moms” as well, similar to how you felt and she was even considering home birth so I hope after reading this and understanding that you can’t tell every complication from an ultrasound and that there are complications that can be unexpected, that she will reconsider. God bless the team of doctors who helped you out. If I didn’t know that Clara was healthy and happy for 11 months already, I may have had to stop reading for fear of what the ending may have been but I’m glad everything turned out ok. She is amazing and beautiful and I hope this story will be told to her one day so she can understand how valuable her life just is.
Elizabeth says
Oh, forgot to say that my sister in law was so traumatized by the birth, that she found it really hard to even celebrate her son’s first birthday :( I’m happy to see that you can tell the story and be joyful that Clara is a miracle :)
anne says
ICAN is an amazing resource, and the people who run it in Richmond are great.
Emily says
That is an amazing and scary story. I think God blessed you both so much and really protected both you and Clara. That’s amazing. You’ve got me in tears. I pray that your future pregnancies will be completely “normal.” :-)
Christina says
You and John are so strong to have made it through such a difficult experience. Know that you have lots of supporters here! I think we’re often prepared for having labor go differently than the way we want it (using drugs when we wanted natural, having c-section when we wanted vaginal, etc.), but we always expect the experience to be a happy one in the end. When we have a scary birth story that’s just tough to deal with. I feel you here! I live in Spain (all doctors speaking Spanish = really confusing)and when I had my daughter I was in labor for 35 hours and it ended in a c-section. During the c-section the drugs weren’t working effectively enough and I spent about 30 seconds screaming in pain and fear on the table. Yeah…not the ideal birth. It was hard to talk about at first, but now 16 months later my husband and I are ready to try in the next few months. Thank you so much for sharing, Sherry! Clara is such a mini-John! and props to you for going through something difficult and still wanting more kids. THAT’S STRENGTH FOR YA!
Ashley says
Just want to add my love to this love in. God bless you for sharing this amazing and terrifying story. How brave of you to share this and to have gone on merrily posting about house repairs while dealing with the trauma. It goes to show how we never know where someone is until we’re walking in their shoes. Thank you for allowing us to walk with you a bit, through joy and pain.
Also, I know from my own journey that sharing my story with others, getting support from groups who’ve been there too, (and sometimes from professionals), has lifted me up and helped me go on to live joyously. I hope you are able to find the same peace with your second pregnancy.