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.
Liz says
I had gathered from previous comments that you’d had a pretty hectic go of it, and even knew about the abruption (somehow… it may have been by inference). Hearing you tell it firsthand is heart-wrenching, but I’m so glad you’re still here and brought home a beautiful girl who’s not so little anymore!
I first read your birth announcement a few hours before my best friend’s wife was wheeled into the OR for a c-section (May 17th). It was at the end of a very tough labor, but nothing like your emergency. And we also got a very healthy baby out of it, who is sleeping in the room beside this one (I’m now his nanny).
I always keep an eye on Clara stories because she and Gabriel are so close in age and often meet their developmental milestones together. Wish we lived closer so they could play!
Megan Elizabeth says
Now I understand why it took you so long to be able to share Clara’s birth story. As I was reading I started tearing up imagining what you must have been going through.
Lori says
Thank you for sharing your story. I think it’s important for people to know that when they see a smiling, happy baby (like Clara), it doesn’t automatically mean that her birth was perfect. You can’t tell just by looking.
I lost my first baby, a girl, at 26 weeks of pregnancy and it was horrible. At that time the doctors weren’t able to tell me why, so I waited for 4 years before working up the courage to get pregnant again.
During my second pregnancy, I found out I have a blood clotting disorder and was on a blood thinner for that pregnancy (healthy baby boy) and the one after (healthy baby girl).
The truth is, for your next pregnancy, you may indeed be plagued with uneasy feelings throughout, and worry that the same thing will happen again. There’s really no way to get around it, and even waiting two years won’t take away those feelings.
What you will have the second time that you didn’t the first, is more knowledge of what could go wrong and how to handle it, and more medical supervision (I had 3 doctors for my two healthy pregnancies). So even though I still worried something would go wrong again, I knew a lot more than I did before and I was monitored more closely, so I figured that increased the odds of a good outcome (which it clearly did).
YoungHouseLove says
I am so sorry for your loss Lori. And so happy to hear that you went on to have two healthy pregnancies.
xo,
s
Jen Bishop says
Wow. Thank you for sharing such a prsonal experience. What a scary time for you and your family! You definitely have a little fighter! You touch on so many things, especially taking for granted that everything will go as planned and then suddenly it is completely out of your control.
For my first pregnancy, I went into preterm labor at 26 weeks. My husband was out of state and luckily I had family visiting. There are so many things that could have gone wrong, but I try not to dwell on that. I had an emergency c-section and they flew her to a NICU in Green Bay. She was 2 lbs. 1 oz! We stayed for 2 1/2 months while she grew.
It was such an unnatural experience, not at all what I imagined child birth to be like. I was healthy and active and could not understand why this had happened. The NICU was amazing, truley amazing people. The love and support of family and friends was overwhelming. My daughter is turning seven soon and her birth story is still difficult for me to talk about. She has no complications from her preterm birth and you would never know that she was a preemie by looking at her. She is very advanced and she doesn’t even wear glasses!
I had a son two years later with no complications. I was a high risk pregnancy and my doctor was worried about rupturing. He scheduled a c-section at 36 weeks. Yes, I was worried and anxious during the pregnancy and yes, I went in every time something did not feel right. I guess that would be my advice to you, don’t be afraid to go in and have things checked out. Listen to your body and your gut.
Your daughter, like mine, was meant to be here. Love her and enjoy her! Thank you again for sharing. You have no idea how many people you will touch and who you will help to process their own experience.
sara says
Wow, I am in awe of your story. Here I was thinking everything was normal, when it wasn’t! I can’t even imagine…God bless you and Clara
Nicole Lindquist says
Hi Sherry (and John and Clara too)
Sharing your amazing birth story was a decision that took time for your heart to heal, a tremendous amount of courage and last but not least, faith. Hopefully a combination of those things of those things will get you through your next pregnancy.
Sadly, my first pregnancy ended in a miscarriage. I struggled with fear, doubt and anger during my next pregnancy because I couldn’t fully enjoy growing a little miracle inside of me like so many others get to. I won’t say that I was able to rise above those feelings all the time, but once I accepted that I could only control what I could control and let the rest up to God, I was able to breathe.
I know it’s still a ways off, but I truly hope you can relax and treasure your next pregnancy as it seems so fleeting in the end. I can hardly remember my daughter’s kicks in my belly anymore and those were such happy times. That’s right, I gave birth to a beautiful, healthy baby girl last June. She is the best thing that’s ever happened to me and my husband. Last but not least, her name is Faith.
Love and hugs to your family. Your story truly touched my heart. Thank you for sharing it. I love your blog!
Elena says
Thank you so much for sharing your story. It had me in tears.
Mindy says
Having two of my own and having a very small scare in comparison to your, I’m very proud of you!! I don’t know you or John well but it made me cry to imagine him standing in the hall alone, I pictured my husband in his place. I don’t know if I would even be able to talk about it now.
Clara must be destined for greatness, an entrance like that can only be followed by an extraordinary life. Of course, having amazing parents will help. :D My great-grandmother was named Clara and she lived a beautiful life with a husband who loved her and six children. She passed shortly after turning 97. May Clara live as long as her and be as happy as Great-Grandma was.
Kate C says
you’ve got me crying in the office. you have a beautiful family and Clara is so lucky to have you both as parents. what a story she will get to tell one day. can you imagine the look of pride in her eyes when she tells everyone about how you brought her into this world? can you imagine the look of pride in yours when you hear her? i hope you are feeling the waves of love and support from the blog community and that you remember how it felt to hold your bean in your arms when you decide to do it again. it’ll be scary, but so worth it.
YoungHouseLove says
We are feeling waves of love and then some. What amazing readers we have. Seriously I’m speechless.
xo,
s
Rachel says
Wow. This had me in tears, and I don’t even have children. I just got married though, and when we talk about having kids we don’t ever really consider the possibility that there could be complications. Thanks for sharing your story!
Emily says
Beautiful story, so happy that you’re all happy and healthy today, you’re truly blessed. :)
Kara says
Thanks so much for sharing. I’m due May 30th, and I feel like the more birth stories I read, regardless of what kind of birth stories they are, the more I’m prepared for the unexpected. I honestly hope I don’t have to experience what you’ve gone through, or anything like it, but I so appreciate you sharing your story. It couldn’t have been an easy one to write about, but you’ve definitely touched a lot of people by putting it out there. Thanks again!!
Amy L. says
Thank you for sharing your story! What an agonizing situation to have to go through. You’re such a strong woman, Sherry! <3 and many internet hugs!
monica says
I think that three years between kids is just about perfect! Thats how mine are spaced, and I remember how genuinely helpful a 3+ year old can be when you have a new baby- they can get diapers and wipes when you need them, they can pick up dropped toys, they can entertain and are entertained by an infant!
I also had a really, really rough birth with my first son. Though I went home after 4 days, I had to return by ambulance the same night. Then I needed two weeks for recovery in the hospital. My problems were related to some very poor decisions made by the midwife on call. Many of my friends (who are int he medical field) urged me to take legal action, but one day at a friends birthday dinner I randomly ran into someone involved in midwifery and got to chatting and eventually we figured out that my case was being used as a “what not to do” in the local midwifery training program! I figured that was the best outcome I could hope for. It was very hard to talk about the whole birth story thing for quite a while- and I still grieve a bit for that lovely calm birth story that did not happen, but it does fade with time. My son was and is perfectly healthy and that is what counts!l
Lindsay says
oh Sherry, this brought tears to my eyes. I thank God that you all came out healthy and holding a beautiful baby girl! What a miracle of a day. You have so much to be so very thankful for. Thank you for letting us share in the miracle of Clara’s birth!
Linda says
I cried while reading this and held my baby boy closer. What a miracle your little Clara is.
KK says
I love you.
YoungHouseLove says
Aw I love you too Kristin. Can’t wait to introduce you to our little miracle this summer!
xoxo,
s (& the gang)
Laura says
Wow, such an amazing and scary story. I think you experienced all my biggest fears about giving birth at once. I am now hiding in my office crying (I am 36 1/2 weeks pregnant now).
I am glad it had a happy ending and both you and the bean are doing well.
Tina says
Your story moved me to tears. With my second I was suddenly rushed into an emergency c-section – while my husband was grabbing lunch in the hospital cafeteria. I was being rushed down the hall to the OR while my husband was being paged over the hospital speaker system. I identified with a lot of your experience: speechless, frozen, waiting for what seemed like an eternity (but was really only a few minutes).
It was only on my sons first birthday that I realized how traumatized I was from his birth experience. I cried most of the day and I couldn’t put words to why I was crying. I was just so full of emotion and I felt dumb because everything turned out great – I’m healthy and he’s healthy. Yet on his birthday (and I’ve cried on his 2nd and 3rd birthdays too) I just couldn’t hold it together.
Let yourself go with it on Clara’s birthday, let the emotions flow, or whatever the case may be. Or, if you’re like me, there’s no point in trying to hold back the tears – they’ll spill out one way or another.
jENNIFER kNIGHT says
Thanks for sharing your story. It couldn’t have been an easy experience to share with the world! Good luck with the next pregnancy!
Kelsey says
You have so many comments, but I just wanted to say that I was touched by your birth story. Although my daughter’s pregnancy and birth went nearly textbook perfect, I still was plagued by fears of what could happen. The one thing that gave me peace was reminding myself that the Lord had created Lila, that he had numbered her days – each with great purpose. I know it sounds weird, but I took comfort in the fact that whether she lived to be 100 or never made it beyond 40 weeks in utero, the Lord already knew how many days would make up her life. Nothing I could do would change his intentions for my Baby Girl’s life. And because I know he is good, I trusted him and thanked him for each day I got with her. Even now (she’s 16 months old), I sometimes get so caught up in the worries and fears of what could happen to her. I have to remind myself that the Lord knows her intimately and cares for her deeply. Even her name reminds me of who she is to him. Her name, Lila, means “You are mine” in Hebrew and each night I pray Isaiah 43 over her: “Listen to the One who created you. The One who formed you says, ‘Do not be afraid, for I have ransomed you. I have called you by name, YOU ARE MINE.'” As I read Clara’s birth story, I couldn’t help but think that, for all the fear in your hearts that day, the Lord knew that she had not yet lived all of her days and he was faithful to appoint those brilliant doctors and nurses to protect your sweet family. He is good.
Melissa says
Thank you so much for sharing, what an amazing story. I read this at work and definitely teared up. You are so strong and courageous.
Mel says
Thank you so much for sharing your story… You are such a strong women and show your spirit every day. By choosing to share your story, women might think twice before skipping the “less rosy” pages, I know I will. What a great reminder that every new baby truly is a little blessing!!!
hi-d says
What an amazing story! Thanks for sharing this. I can only imagine how scary this must have been. God certainly saw you through and blessed you both with a healthy, beautiful baby girl.
Blessings!
hi-d
Chaeli says
Oh my word, I don’t personally know you guys and I’m bawling my eyes out. What a story. So thankful you are all healthy.
Mindy M. says
Wow! I’m so sorry you & John had to go through that, but so thankful that beautiful Clara was A-ok. I’m in nursing school & hope to be a labor & delivery nurse when I finish, so I knew what all that meant & was nearly crying until you said she got a 9 at the 5-minute Apgar (even though I obviously know she made it). I don’t blame you for being petrified at the thought of it happening again. My youngest child was born at 36 weeks & had some serious respiratory & jaundice issues (after a pre-term labor scare at 32 weeks), so I sort of understand the fear of repeating that nightmare. Thank you for sharing.
kristen says
oh, sherry [& john]. what a terrible, beautiful miracle you experienced!
i not only cried while i was reading your post [at the same point at which you began crying in lieu of your little girl], but also when i related the whole story to my husband.
i’m SO SO HAPPY you are all okay – your authentic, hilarious relating of your wonderful life together via yhl inspires me again & again.
thank you for sharing this & for sharing yourselves [& your darling daughter & your burger!]! i’m grateful for you all! :)
Anne says
As so many others have said, sharing your story will help you and the people who read it. It took me 4 years to write the story of my son’s birth in his baby book. It was very similar to yours except in the end, the doctor’s decided that it would be too risky to have a C-section, so I had to push him out, thinking all the while that he might be dead. I will never forget the pain that my husband had to go through standing all alone in the delivery room while they rushed me (shouting “Code Pink”) into the OR. My son does have some complications, but having him and his sister 2 years later has helped me to become a better person. I was scared throughout my second pregnancy, but they were (and are) as different as night and day. Thanks for being brave and hug your girl and boy when you get that chill thinking about what might have been. It gets better, really.
Elizabeth says
God bless you, Petersiks.
CMB says
WOW!! Happy 11 months! I LOVE this blog! I check it out to get the latest and greatest for decorating our newlywed house! I hope one day we cross paths to get a “CRASH” =) we live in Richmond. Sherry, thank you SO much for being “real” about giving birth, it is a subject we are approaching with such a matter of fact “plan”. This post made me realize bringing a life into the world is not like planning a vacation, it is a miracle!! I am happy for your miracle. Happy Birthday Clara!
Alex says
Your story had me in tears. After reading this, I hugged my baby girl. Good luck with your next little miracle!
Nicole says
I’m sorry you had such complications. I had problems with the placenta too (both times), and I can relate. That mama bear protectiveness kicks in even before we meet our little ones, and it’s scary to think you might lose them. Clara’s just the sweetest little girl though — you have such a lovely family! Here’s to smooth sailing from here on out.
Michelle says
Wow, what an intense, happy, and scary story! I’m so glad everything worked out in the end and Clara is more than alive and kickin’!
Jason & Sarai McDowell says
This is such a surreal, sweet and touching story! I cannot even imagine.. You guys are such a beautiful family and she is one gorgeous girl! You all inspire me and my husband in more ways than just with the ole DIYing blogs, but with your love for each other that is just spilling at the seams on this website. My husband and I read y’all’s blog every day and relate so much to you both! This story is just another reason why we love reading your blogs every day! Because your family is so evidently strong and beautiful. just B-E-A-UTIFUL! (Sorry, we are little on the corny side too…)But seriously, you guys are awesome.
Maggi says
i am not religious by any means, but your story leaves me with only these words–god bless.
Kate M says
Sherry, thank you for sharing your story. I haven’t been brave enough to write mine down and it’s been nearly 4 years since my 1st was born. I had a post delivery hemorrhage and my husband (who is a physician and has delivered a lot of babies himself) had to sit holding our son watching me slip away, not being able to do a thing about it. I of course was unconscious. I came back obviously, but I know the fear about a 2nd pregnancy. I was terrified. We both were. Thankfully, it was uncomplicated and very routine. I just wanted to send out big hugs to you. I can understand your fear and reluctance to discuss such a scary, yet joyous, day.
Katie says
Got all teary reading this post! Thanks for sharing your story and thank God for miracles!
Erinn says
There are just no words; I just want to hug you. Thank you for sharing this. You are very brave and strong and WILL have another beautiful, healthy baby. It’s obviously meant to be.
Emily says
I’m so happy that your sweet baby girl arrived safely but I wish I didn’t read this post right now! I’m 30 weeks along right now and am really nervous for the birth. I’ve got polyhydramnios and placental abruption and cord prolapse are a risk of us. So ya, not the best thing I did today haha. This is the first time I’ve read your blog and will definetly keep reading :) I hope that writing this out brought you some peace with your first birth experience!
Kim says
Thank you for sharing such a personal story with us all.
steph says
Oh my gosh, I just bawled my eyes out reading this. I’m so happy that everything worked out with Clara and for you all. I cannot even begin to put myself in a situation of being pregnant and things not working out in a big giant happy ending. You are so strong, Sherry, and I can’t even imagine how protective John must feel about his two girls after all that! Thank you so much for sharing your story.
Jenn says
Totally feel you on the image of John standing alone in the hallway making you cry…there were serious complications with our third little boy and they sent my husband out into the hallway for 20 minutes b/c they thought the baby was lost, then again when they thought I wouldn’t make it. Every time I think of him standing right outside the door, helpless…breaks my heart. The baby started out with an apgar of 2 but by the 5 minute test he was a 10…and he will be 3 on Sunday, healthy and happy. :)
Lindsay says
So scary! And poor John left all alone in the hall. So very glad that you guys had a good outcome, though! Clara is such a precious lil girl!!!
Charity says
Your story is a reminder to us all of how precious and miraculous every baby is. Even though I “knew the end” of this story, I was on the edge of my seat the whole time I was reading it! We’ll never know why some of us are so lucky and others aren’t. Life can be so random sometimes. Thanks for sharing.
Lynne says
Sherry, your story brought me to tears. Then my boss walked into my office..oh well. But really, thank you for sharing! You have been so truly blessed. And clara, oh clara. The angels from above saved your sweet little girl. :)
Denny says
I don’t speak English very well, but I’ll try..
I cry while reading your post… My baby is born 6 weeks ago.. her apgar was 2 at 1′ minute and 3 at 5′ minute … I can’t exlpain well.. but now, after 11days in the hospital is all almost ok…. :)
I sent you a big big hug!!! :)
YoungHouseLove says
Your English is great! And I’m so glad to hear that your baby girl sounds like she’s getting stronger by the day. She’s in our thoughts!
xoxo,
s
Kate B says
Sherry….
You ROCK.
Marci says
I’m so sorry you had to go through such a scary experience on what should be the happiest day of one’s life. I’m so happy that Clara’s birth has a happy ending though and hope that with the support of your blog readers and of your friends and family that you continue the healing process.
When I was pregnant, I had to have an emergency, open abdominal surgery at 29 weeks. Thankfully, I stayed pregnant for another 10 weeks (although it was scary to have an incision from breastbone to belly button trying to heal as my belly was getting bigger and bigger) Its so surreal and scary to have people working on you and if not for the quick thinking of doctors and nurses knowing that things may not have ended so well. Thankfully, I have a beautiful, perfect, healthy 22 month old now (along with a 6 yr old) who was carried to full-term. Unfortunately, my first husband passed away (I since remarried, hence, the 2nd baby) and I cried for 2 days straight after the surgery, thanking my lucky stars that my older daughter didn’t have to suffer the loss of another parent. I found by talking about it so much helped heal me emotionally from the trauma. However, I get very sad when people respond that I must be unlucky because I just feel that life through me a couple curve balls but I am so lucky to be where I am today.
Wishing you and your beautiful family and future children much health and happiness and a much easier birth next time… I guess the idea of a quick labor and giving birth in a car would have been much less dramatic at the end of the day ; )
Patty says
Wow. I am a nurse, yet I am still bawling over this one. I can’t believe you have not discussed this openly before, but as a mom myself, I can relate with the terror you must experience each time you dare to recall Clara’s birth day. I’ve often thought that the pregnancy is the easy part,it’s everything from birth onward that is really scary. Thanks for sharing your miraculous story.
Lisa says
I, too, had something unexpected go wrong with a preganancy — it was “one in a million chance”, “very rare”, etc. I think the worst thing is that if robbed me of the naivity of hearing horror stories and thinking, “that would never happen to me!” I then went through a period of thinking everything bad would happen to me — if there was a 1% chance, than I was sure I would be the 1%. Time has healed that. But my next pregnancy was worrisome to me. I had great care, and I am sure you will too — it will take aware some of the fear.
I do think having had a scare, really makes me appreciate the fact that every healthy birth is a true miracle!