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.
Lesley says
Amazing miracle!
Thank you for sharing!
Maggie says
Thank you so very much for sharing your traumatic story, Sherry. I’m currently 21 weeks pregnant with our first child and I’ve been a terrible worry wart the entire time. I wasn’t sure if it would be smart to read it, but knowing what your wonderful outcome was, I balled up and I am so thankful I did. Many tears came, but I appreciate your honesty more than I can say. So often it seems that women don’t feel comfortable sharing these personal stories, but as I can see from reading through the comments, they make a world of difference in the lives of others who have had similar experiences, yet felt so alone in their struggles.
You and John are amazingly strong people and I’m just so thankful that you share so much of yourselves with us.
Neyir says
Dear John and Sherry,
A thanks to you Sherry for your courage in sharing this and all of your friends who encouraged you, it is often that writing out our experiences scary or otherwise help us to process them. I am so very thankful that your outcome with gorgeous Clara was so positive and echo the many comments Sherry on your strength for looking at the situation so selflessly – clear evidence (as if we ever needed any) that you are an excellent mother.
I started reading your blog before Christmas last year when I was pregnant for the 5th time (we have one gorgeous boy), I was due within days of you and was struggling to believe that everything would turn out alright. Just after Christmas we discovered that our son was very ill and the next few months were filled with tests as they diagnosed his disorder. He was stillborn a month before his due date. Generally this is not something I would share on a forum such as this however your blog was an absolute lifesaver to me – I adore all things design but due to my husband’s job (and many moves) we have never owned a house and I delighted in reading about all your renovations. I remembering watching your blog around the time you were due and praying that all would go well and (I say this with the due irony) be straight forward.
Thank you for daily sharing with us and for trusting the blogsphere with your story.
YoungHouseLove says
Oh Neyir I’m so sorry for your loss. Thanks so much for sharing your story and for the prayers for Clara around my due date!
xo,
s
Kristin says
Thank God you are both happy and healthy. You have a beautiful child!
AB says
I’m so glad Clara is a strong healthy baby girl about to embark on her second year. What a blessing! As one of those mothers who sadly had to walk out of the hospital empty-handed on her first delivery, I won’t sugarcoat it for you. The second pregnancy is hell, knowing anything can go wrong at any minute. But when I look in the face of my healthy, ALIVE baby boy, I would suffer the paranoia and anxiety and fear a million times over for him. Just have faith that all will be as it should and build a good support system full of people who will help you cope (which I know you already have!). Beyond that — get yourself a doctor that will sonogram your fears away anytime you get a little antsy, stay super alert about what feels normal and what doesn’t, and stay away from those darn baby books (or as I like to call them “Here’s a Million Things to Scare the Bejeezus out of You” books). Happy Birthday to Clara — I hope it is a splendid day for a darling little girl.
YoungHouseLove says
I’m so sorry for your loss AB. But I’m so glad to hear that you went on to have a healthy little boy.
xo,
s
Jenni A. says
Thanks for sharing. I had a similar experience with my 2nd (I have 4). I had placenta previa, 4 weeks bed rest in the hospital (32-36 weeks) then a rip and started bleeding out. I had the same speeding gurney experience where I grabbed my phone off the hospital dresser just in time as I was being rushed out to call my husband and tell him to get to the hospital. Literally 14 minutes later my son was delivered only to find that he had a congenital heart defect that was depriving his body of oxygen so he was blue within minutes of being born. We had no idea. So many blessings that day. Blessed to be in the hospital when it happened, blessed that they were able to save my life and my sons. He had open heart surgery at 9 days old and is 5 years old now with no further complications. Blessed. I had to successful VBACs after him. Truly blessed.
YoungHouseLove says
Oh my gosh, I’m so glad he’s ok!
xo,
s
Melissa says
I just cried about ten times reading that. What an amazing story. This sounds weird after hearing that story, but you are just a beautiful writer.
Bethany says
Oh my goodness. Weeping. WEEPING!
This made me realize I need to fully document all my children’s births. The scary and not scary.
Thank you for being brave enough to share your story.
AB says
Oh, and I would also like to say, my baby girl died of a chromosomal abnormality. Clara narrowly survived placental abruption and cord prolapse. Sadly, there are a thousand more things that can cause damage to babies or prevent them from ever entering this world. The March of Dimes is an organization that funds research to make sure that ALL babies have a fighting chance. It’s a great organization — Donate or volunteer today!
YoungHouseLove says
Agreed! The March of Dimes is amazing. Another reader is marching this weekend in honor of a baby that her family lost and it’s just such a great organization.
xo,
s
Meghan says
Thanks for sharing such a beautiful story – even if it did make me cry!
On a lighter note, my mom had a very scary birth story and there was a period in my teen years when I would conveniently refer to myself as her Miracle Child. Like, you know, when I wanted the car keys. Luckily I grew out of that phase and hopefully Clara doesn’t milk it quite as much as I did!
Molly Tilman says
Hey, I did the same thing! My baby turns 15 this year. They grow up fast!
Bec says
God bless the three of you. Little baby Clara was clearly meant to come into the world whole and wonderful, to be enjoyed and loved by her family. I wish you every happiness in celebrating her first year. And I love your flags! Sherry + Oh Brother = doing okay.
Liz F. says
You don’t have to be a Betazoid to feel a massive wave of empathy emanating from the Internet today. Thank you so much for sharing this deeply personal story. Reading it, I was overwhelmed by the thought of how powerless John must have felt. I’m so glad Clara is thriving and you’re healing.
hannah henning says
I wept as I read your story. What an amazing miracle birth and children are, and how doubly miraculous little Clara is! Thank you for having the courage to share your experience with all of us. God must have big plans for that little lady! My own daughter had trouble breathing at first and was in the NICU for a week. No further complications, thank the Lord! But it does make you realize just how precious their life is. I say soak up every minute of these years with just Clara, she seems like a joyful sweetie!
Lolo says
Beautifully written Sherry x
Ashley says
Amazing, amazing, amazing. What a MIRACLE she is. Thank you for sharing with us! My daughter also had an issue that she “shouldn’t” have survived, and now she’s an amazing 2 year old. I definitely understand the awe and gratefulness you feel when you look at Clara!
Skooks says
Thanks for taking the time to share this, Sherry. It sounds like a lot to process and I’m not surprised you’re not “over it” yet. How could you be? Praise God for his miracles of life . . . we all too easily take a lot of them for granted.
Jen says
AMAZING story. You’re so brave for sharing. I am SO thrilled for you and your family that things turned out the way they finally did. Clara is a beautiful baby, and you are a beautiful and blessed family.
Charmie says
Hello! I usually lurk on this site (sorry, haha) but thought I’d just comment on this…
You are both so lucky, I was in tears reading this. I’m not a parent myself, so have no idea what it feels like…
She is beautiful.
Kate says
Wowee thanks for being so brave to share your story. Clara truly is an adorable little miracle. Thanks for allowing all of us to share/follow in your story. Can’t wait to watch her grow and hear of all the exciting adventures to come!
Heidi says
Your birth story is beautiful, because it was your journey. Please don’t ever feel that your journey was anything but amazing, even with the scary complications. You carried a healthy baby to term and at the end of the birthday, both mama and baby (and dad) were healthy and safe. A beautiful way to come into the world if you ask me.
Fawn Teresi says
I had to keep taking breaks from this (you had me crying in my cubicle at work)
What a beautiful, perfect little girl you got out of a terrifying experience.
We also had some complications during labor… like you I didnt have a single complication til the day.
I understand where you are coming from… our risks go up with the next one too.. and its terrifying.
Thank you for sharing your story… Your attitude about it is inspiring. Thank you.
Jen F says
Wow, I had kind of understood from your little comments that it wasn’t the smoothest of days, but reading the play by play is really something. You do have a little miracle there!
Although you shared all that was going through your head (in a much more brave way that I can even respond in) I can’t imagine the fear and then the relief. I understand why it took so long to share and then why you worry that the next time might be such a different experience. Just remember that in all, people are amazing, and babies are particularly resilient.
Thank you for being brave and sharing. Hopefully knowing that you have blog buddies in cyberland helps you a little. Hearts to all!
Jen
Katie says
I’ll preggo and couldn’t manage my way to the end. So emotional and so proud of your courage in writing it down and rejoicing in Clara’s health.
Conkie S. says
23 years ago yesterday our daughter Annie was also a placenta abruptia baby. She was whisked off to NICU and I was given many transfusions. The doctors thought she may just have some coordination problems but she just finished 4 years of college playing golf in the fall and was the lacrosse goalie in the spring….no issues at all.
Happy Birthday Clara…
jillian says
Thanks for sharing your story. I have read many scary stories of placental abruption. So glad your beautiful Clara is well!
KAYLA says
as an L&D and ER nurse, can i just say wowwwww! the ER is a crazy place to work but it’s got nothing on L&D. i’m so glad you had a great crew working that day- two lives were saved that day thanks to them.
thanks for reminding me why i do what i do. sometimes i forget how amazing my job is [especially when i have to tell a 40 week pregnant lady she’s not in labor- seriously they throw stuff!]
thanks for sharing. i’m so glad you both made it and that you’re healthy and awesome.
ps. never NEVER have i heard of an abruption AND a prolapse. that’s the worst luck ever.
YoungHouseLove says
Your job is amazing! You guys save lives and I’m sure there are so many moms and dads and babies who are so thankful to have you there to help!
xo,
s
Lisa says
Thanks for sharing. I love hearing birth stories and I appreciate ones in which the outcome was uncertain. I had twins almost 2 1/2 years ago and I was worried right up until the end. The second baby was delivered feet first by breech extraction. He didn’t cry when he was born and struggled for a little while. I was a wreck but felt grateful that I was in such a great hospital. I felt like we had the best care for the best outcome. Now, our boys are happy and healthy and we love them so much. Little Clara is so precious and lucky to have you two as her parents.
Rebecca @ the lil house that could says
So very scary but thank goodness Clara turned out as wonderful as she did! My sister in law had a very scary delivery in August that required an emergency c-section. She was put under for it and my brother was not allowed in the operating room, so neither of them were able to watch their daughter be born. Thankfully everyone was okay, but it was incredibly scary and definitely not according to plan! My niece just turned 8 months old and was over for Easter and is just perfectly precious.
ps- How far along were you in that first picture? Was there a baby in that skinny belly?! ;)
YoungHouseLove says
Haha, I was only about five weeks along, so I think the baby was the size of a peanut or something. But I started to show really fast after that (by 13 weeks strangers were congratulating me at the grocery store).
xo,
s
Angela says
Wow. Thank you so much for sharing Clara’s birth story. I can definitely understand why it took you so long. I hope that writing it out did end up being theraputic for you. How blessed and lucky your little family is!
Melissa says
That post made me cry (in the office no less). I would have a very hard time discussing something like that myself, so it’s really impressive that you were able to do it.
Larissa says
Thank you for sharing your story. It’s amazing that the best day of our lives can be so traumatic. I just experienced my first birth 18 days ago. It wasn’t anything like I’d hoped or imagined and it will definitely take me a while to get over. Thankfully, my sweet baby boy is in perfect health and I am healing quickly.
Blessings abound
Central-Portugal says
Things happen for a reason. Much love to you and your sweet family. And thank you for being who you are.
Brea says
I have a 10.5 month old, who asperated meconium during the birth process and was in the NICU for two weeks (on a ventilator for one). It’s still hard for me to talk about it without crying. To see your baby potentially in danger is so hard to process. It makes my heart go out even more to parents of children with grave illnesses. We are both so lucky and blessed!
Birdie says
I’ve followed your blog for a year or so, and one of my fave things about it is pics of Clara. She’s an adorable baby. This post made me full on cry. I’m so happy that you both are ok, and thriving.
Patty Gil-Diaz says
Wow. That was an intense recount. I was at the edge of my seat, anxious about what would happen next. Like those movies that you’re holding on to your blanket through and hoping for a happy ending [except I knew it already was].
Great writing.
And great ending. :) I love happy endings.
Brianne says
I don’t have any children, but was brought to tears by this post. All three of you are fighters. You are my hero, Sherry.
Kara says
I’m a little over a month from my due date with my first child – a boy baby. Your story is petrifying and moving at the same time. I’m glad that you shared Clara’s birth; however, now I’m just a little scared about my upcoming birth day experience …
YoungHouseLove says
Oh no, I don’t want you to be anything but excited and joyful! Just read back to some of the comments from labor and delivery nurses who agree that my complications were so intensely rare (none of them have ever in all of their years seen anyone with both of them at the same time). I just had the worst luck ever apparently. But you’ll do great!
xo,
s
dawn says
I’m sorry you had to go through that kind of terror to get your precious little lovecake here.
I lost a child to cerebral palsy almost 5 years ago and I can still remember the aching and feeling of being in a terrible nightmare. It was just too awful to comprehend or to be real. It was too much to be able to grasp. I held her lifeless body in the hospital for about 6 hours in the hospital trying to wrap my head around it. I had a serious case of the, “why mes” myself. I will never be the same.
I am so happy that your little Clara was able to walk away unscathed. She is a little light that seems to just ooze happiness and contentment! I’m sure you are an amazing mom.
Happy soon to be Mother’s Day and wish the little bean a Happy Birthday!!
YoungHouseLove says
Oh Dawn I’m so sorry for your loss. I can’t imagine. Thinking of you.
xo,
s
Amy N says
Wow! Thanks for sharing your story. Children are a blessing, and your story reminds us all of that! I can’t even read all the comments because I just keep tearing up!
alg says
Sherry — First, just let me say that I know. I know what it’s like to wait for that cry. And how every second feels like 1,000 eternities. And what it’s like to be even more afraid when you do hear it, because what if you never get to hear it again?
Thank god we both did.
I won’t go into the details of Sonia’s birth (she’s the one who LOVES your ceramic doggy), but it was S.C.A.R.Y. for everyone involved.
So scary that I truly doubt I can ever do it again. I have an actual, physical panic attack every time I think that my being pregnant is even a remote possibility.
Good for you, being able to even consider it. You are a stronger woman than I.
And to John: You are the man. You have no idea how much Sherry needed you during that horrible ordeal. You deserve 50,000 Dad points just for keeping it together enough to be there for your wife & child. I KNOW how terrified you must have been — my husband was white as a sheet.
Now, on to cheerier things: Have you guys considered putting up a link on YHL where people could donate to charity (perhaps NICU?) in honor of Clara’s birthday? Kind of like a virtual birthday card? Her being here really IS a miracle, and I bet a lot of people would like to have a way to celebrate the survival of little fighters like her :) Just a thought.
YoungHouseLove says
1. You’re right, John deserves 50,000 Dad Points for his amazingness that day. Couldn’t have done it without him.
2. That’s an awesome idea about a donate link to a help a worthy cause! I’m not sure how the coding of something like that might be for our sidebar, but maybe we can donate to a certain charity and post about it with a link right within that post to invite others to donate in honor of any and all children they know and love or have lost. Such a thoughtful idea.
xo,
s
Jennifer says
I usually just kinda skim over the long posts, but this time I read every word. I’m not a “baby” person, but I got chills reading your story. I’m so very glad it turned out the way it did.
Bethany Heijermans says
Thanks for sharing this publicly. I’m due with my first baby in July and ideally, I would love for things to go a certain way so it is good for me read stories like yours which give me a healthy fear that it is possible things won’t go 100% MY way. Clara is a cutie!
Jessica F. says
Wow–what an incredibly dramatic way to end a perfect pregnancy. I am a self-proclaimed worrier, so I know that when I do get pregnant, I will be shushing the worry voices in my head the whole 10 months. My sister thinks I’m crazy for reading these kinds of personal experiences, but I’m hoping they will help prepare me for whatever might happen in the future. Thanks so much for sharing and I’m so happy your sweet baby (and yourself) came out ok in the end. :)
Sarah says
Thanks so much for sharing this, Sherry. What a miracle your beautiful girl is!
Kay says
Wow, so very scary. I can only imagine how hard it is to look at another pregnancy. I had an abruption with my 4th daughter at 19wks. It was 2/3 abrupted, it miraculously healed and wasn’t a problem for the rest of my pregnancy. I had been up hours before it happened with my 3rd daughter rocking her back to sleep and then woke up at 6am in a puddle of blood. I didn’t have any pain before or after just lots of blood. Scariest day of my life only now topped by the day my 3rd daughter broke her arm a few weeks ago. Being a mother is hard, it’s like throwing your heart off a cliff repeatedly. Love those girls to death though!
Beth says
Amazing story with a blessed ending. I was in tears reading it! I am sitting here, 39 weeks and 6 days pregnant with my second child, and appreciating this story. Life is precious and I would be in tears too looking back and thinking of my husband waiting to join me in such a scary situation.
Thanks for sharing and I hope it helps you in the healing process. When things don’t go as planned, it always throws us for a loop.
Kelsey says
Thanks for sharing. After losing our child during a pregnancy I can definitely say that during the next pregnancy I went to the hospital expecting the absolute worst. Everything happens for a reason though. Without our first loss we would not have a wonderful 3 year old son.
shanna says
Sherry,
Thank you so much for sharing your story. It brought tears to my eyes. I had a little boy last April and was induced at 37 weeks because of pregnancy induced hypertension and gestational diabetes. It took us 3 long years of infertility treatments to conceive him and he is a healthy and happy one year old today.
I totally understand your fear about getting pregnant again. I had that fear my entire first pregnancy because of everything I had to indure trying to get pregnant, and now I have it even more so after experiencing a pregnancy filled with complications.
Clara is beautiful miracle and I know you will be celebrating her first birthday with lots of thanks and love…I know we sure did :)
Gem says
Thank you so much for sharing this. We had been trying for months to get pregnant with our first, got pregnant in March, and I had a miscarriage 2 weeks ago. Like you and everyone else says, once some kind of trauma happens, it robs your innocence for future pregnancies. I remember waiting and waiting to read your birth story after I read ’emergency C-section’. I had no idea you went through all of that! I am so glad Clara is here and you are doing ok emotionally and physically. Take care.