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.
Christie says
I am literally shaking after hearing your horrifying tale. You, John and sweet little Clara are truly blessed beyond belief. I’m so glad everything turned out for the best. Thank you so much for sharing your story.
Sugar Cookie says
I knew this story from following your facebook page, but I can’t imagine how scared you all must have been that day. I hope writing out your story and sharing it with the world helps you deal with all of the fear and heartache. Do you ever have bad dreams about it? I was involved in a school shooting a few years ago and relived the nightmare of that day so many times in my dreams. But sharing my fears about that day with others did help and now I hardly dream about it anymore. Like you said, I don’t think I’ll ever “get over it,” but the way you feel is natural. Glad the story had a happy ending!
YoungHouseLove says
This is crazy but I have never once had a bad dream about it. I used to always lay in bed and think about it before falling asleep (that has gotten much better) but I don’t really tend to have many nightmares in general (just the I’m late for a meeting or I’m naked ones). I’m so thankful for that too.
xo,
s
Helen says
You had me crying… Thanks for sharing your experience. I have a 4-year old son and everything went well during labor. You don’t realize how lucky you are until you hear someone else’s story. Thank you.
Allison says
Thank you for sharing your story. A strong mom and a strong daughter (and a strong dad)!
kelly says
Thank you for sharing your story…you girls are two strong fighters!
I was 4 cm at 39 weeks and ended up delivering 5 days early via an induction because my mom had fast labors as well. Doctor couldn’t believe I was so dilated.
Daniela says
Thanks for sharing. You guys and Clara are very lucky to have each other, and I think you’ll keep forming an amazing bond between you in the years to come because of all this.
Pamela says
Wow, that story truly was inspiring, beautiful, but heartbreaking all at the same time. I cried while reading it, I don’t know if I would have been able to hold it as together as you did during the birth of my child, nevermind even wanting to still have more kids. You are such a strong, amazing woman to have been able to handle that like you did.
Katie D. says
Thanks for sharing. Clara is beautiful.
Meghan says
Oh, I just want to hug all of you. Our family recently had a tragedy where the parents had to come home to the empty nursery, so I was damn glad to know the ending to your story while I was reading it.
Gina says
Sherry,
Thank you so much for allowing all of us to read about that day. I started with my daily check of the blog and didn’t realize I should’ve had the Kleenex handy, I cried the whole way through. As cliche as it is, I think everything happens for a reason. That little girl is made for something special. She is a beautiful gift and I can only imagine what she’ll do in the future.
Happy Birthday Clara!
leah says
Wow! What a story! I am sitting here in tears… very touching. Thank goodness it had a happy ending. I hope you have a very happy and healthy and complication free time, the next go round.
Lauren says
Sherry, you are amazing. Thank you so, so much for sharing your story. You guys are all rock stars.
laura says
wow – thank you for sharing! i am crying…for you and all you had to experience…and also because your birth story is so eerily similar to my son’s, who was born a few weeks before clara. i, too, had a placental abruption. i had no risk factors either. it was just totally random. kind of like how it happened – as i was sitting on the couch, watching the bachelor finale, my husband in nyc on business, my then 2 year old daughter asleep upstairs. i had no pain, no contractions. i just felt a pop, a rush of liquid on my legs…then i saw it was blood. a lot of blood. that just kept coming. and i knew something was wrong, very wrong. especially because i wasn’t full term. i had just turned 33 weeks pregnant that day.
as you’ve written, every moment from that night is sort of frozen in time. i remember every detail vividly – the fear in my neighbor’s faces. the way my dog stood guard next to me while the medics rushed around. the sound of the ambulance siren as we rushed to duke hospital. the stillness of my stomach. the sheer willing my son to move within me. i remember holding my breath when the doctors put the doplar on my stomach. i remember the sound of his strong heartbeat. i remember finally allowing myself to cry. i remember knowing, despite how bad things were in that moment, that he was going to be ok.
and now he’s one. and perfect. and i think, because of how he was born, i love him in such a unique way. because i know, really and truly know, just what a miracle he is.
happy almost birthday to clara! maybe my benjamin will meet her one day in the first year dorms. wahoowa!
YoungHouseLove says
How scary! So glad he’s ok! Wow. What an amazing story.
xo,
s
Heather says
Thank you for posting this. I had a scary experience when I had my son who was 6 weeks early. He had to spend 2 weeks in the NICU and I cried every single day I had to leave him behind. It still upsets me and it has been a year. It was a very hard time for us and I am very scared it will happen again. I am also worried I won’t be able to enjoy my next pregnancy due the the high risk status I will be given. Thanks again for posting.
Paige says
wow, that gave me chills. I saw the “fighter” in Clara long before you wrote this post…ever since I’ve been following your blog (maybe since last November–right before your move I think) and seeing pics of Clara, I’ve had a sense of her strong spirit. Thanks for sharing your story!
Hilary says
Yowza! I ‘m sitting here w/ tears in my eyes on your behalf. That is uber-scary. I’m pregnant with #2 and it’s been a carefree wonderful pregnancy and I’m hopeful that it will continue all the way thru labor (& life to be honest). Congrats on making it thru Clara’s first year. It’s a true accomplishment.
JenniG says
Wow – I rarely comment, though I read you guys every day. Thanks for sharing such an intensely personal story. I hope it helps you process and heal. I am rejoicing with you for the happy family you have!
Emily says
Sherry and John I just wanted to say thank you for sharing your story and that you two are the strongest couple I *know*. Sherry you are an amazing writer, you brought tears to my eyes. God bless your little family.
SingleMama says
Thank you for making me cry at work…I am getting strange stares as people walk by my office :). Seriously though, AMAZING story, your family is clearly blessed!
Lindsay says
Oh my goodness! I am so happy that things worked out. I was born with the umbilical cord wrapped around my neck and an apgar score of one. Five minutes later, I was something like an 8 , but apparently my parents had a similar “what if” moment. I cannot imagine the way that you both must have felt, but I do know that Miss Clara will grow up feeling so especially loved, as a direct result of that day. I am so happy that things turned out as well as they have. Happy Early Birthday (and early Mother’s Day), Petersiks!
Molly says
Thank you so much for sharing your birth story. What an incredible turn of events! I’m 25 weeks pregnant and have been reading a lot of birth stories lately (and listening to the ones on Pregtastic –a highly recommended podcast). We are about to write our birth plan and each story is a helpful reminder that I can plan all I want, but it just might not happen that way. This is really tough for me as I plan for a living (urban planner).
You are so lucky to have such a beautiful baby girl. You are both amazing for holding it together for Clara and for each other. Congratulations and best of luck in the years to come. Now, who does she look like more? I think she looks like you, Sherry, but in that first picture in this post she totally looks like her dad!
Catherine says
Oh my goodness. What a terrifying experience. I’m in tears just thinking about it; I can’t imagine what it must have been like for you. Thank goodness it turned out so well, and thank you for sharing your story.
gboll says
What an emotional story! To God be the Glory for a happy ending. :)
karen says
wow…that is some real scary stuff!!
That was really brave of you to share that. I hope you are feeling better.
Oh to be a woman. All the issues we deal with. All that we sacrifice. And it seems our work is never done! But I would never want to be a man (no offense)
I am woman! I am invincible! I am pooped! ~Author Unknown
HA!
Brandi says
Your story brought me to tears. I’m glad it ended well, and Clara is absolutely adorable. It’s scary to think that someone with such great pregnancy genes can go through that, and will be something I keep in the back of my mind when we start trying. My mom and both of my grandmothers had really easy pregnancies, so, like you, I’ve always been told that when it comes time, it’ll be easy.
Emily says
You’re incredible.
Jessica says
Oh geeeeez…..now I’m crying….at work….in my cube. lol! My little one was born on April 6, 2010….and it wasn’t until just before her 1st birthday a few weeks ago that my husband shared details of the night before she was born and all the crazy, scary complications I had while at the hospital. (I was so out of it from my blood pressure skyrocketing, and the baby’s, that I don’t even remember this…..) I cry any time I hear a baby story now…I just remember those amazing moments when she was born and I finally got to see her beautiful face. I’m so happy everything turned out ok for you guys….and I can understand why it’s so hard to talk about it after reading that! Your little Clara is so sweet and beautiful and totally worth everything you went through to get her here! :-)
Elizabeth says
Oh my god Sherry. Thank GOD Clara was saved and brought into this world healthy. Thank you for sharing this Sherry, you are the most brave woman ever.
veronika says
Thanks for sharing such a personal story. You have such a beautiful family!
Lisa says
Your story brought tears to my eyes. It reminds me of my own child’s birth – different complications, but that same plunge from amazing joy to absolute terror in the split second when things go wrong. Fortunately, our stories both have happy endings. Thank you for sharing.
Amy Brewer says
WOW! What an amazing story! My mom is a labor and delivery nurse so I am really in amazement. My first child had a very dramatic entry into this world, however nothing like yours. But we did have the ER like run to the OR on a gurney. However, I was very convinced I was going au naturale and it took me a VERY long time to get over it. But, I now have three very healthy children and had three c-sections for them to arrive into this world! Good luck with future pregnancies. You will enjoy them, just on high alert.
Lauren says
John and Sherry, I read your blog every day but have never commented. Our son Owen is just about the same age as Clara – born May 31st of last year, and I always felt that to be a bond we shared (although we have never met!) as I have read your posts about Clara and seen her hit her milestones and grow up right along with Owen. I felt compelled to comment today after reading this amazing birth story – I had no idea how much more we had in common than I even realized! Owen was born with the cord wrapped around his neck and as a result, fluid aspirated into his lungs causing an infection that would leave him in the NICU for the first week of his life on oxygen and antibiotics. I never heard him cry in the delivery room, never got to hold him on my chest, had to watch the flurry of doctors and activity around him with my white faced husband in the background. But just like your Clara, he is now 100% fine and the joy of our lives! On Owen’s first birthday in a few weeks, we will be thinking just how lucky we are to have him – and I will be thinking of you guys as well!
Karen says
Thank you for sharing something so intimate and scary. My sister, a physician herself had a complete abruption with her first son, born still last March at 35 weeks. I can tell you first hand what you already know, Clara is a miracle baby. My sister is pregnant again now with girl this time and she is scared but is a fortunately a high risk pregnancy, something that she should have been all along last time.
Carole says
This had me in tears. Just amazing. My baby is just over 8 months old now, so I think maybe I read it with my own daughter’s birth in my mind.
Babies are survivors, that is for sure, and Clara is no exception.
Congratulations again on your beautiful little girl- she obviously has a lot of great things to accomplish in her life!
Julia @ Hooked on Houses says
This story had me on the edge of my seat this morning and seriously gave me chills. I’m so relieved that there was a happy ending! All babies are precious miracles, but it sounds like Clara is an extra-special one. :-)
Karen says
Thank you for sharing your story. It was amazing and heart-wrenching!
I have just found out I am expecting again after losing our baby last year. I am trying to find the excitement I had with our dear son, but afraid to think ahead to what might be. I completely understand your fears about “next time”.
Kara says
Hi,
I have been reading your blog for a couple years now and so enjoy your family. I never comment but I wanted to say thanks for opening yourself up and being honest. My daughter’s 6 months old and I am so grateful to be her momma! This story reminds me again how precious and fragile life is…. Thanks so much for sharing!!!
Kara
Anne says
Hugs Sherry.
Thanks for sharing your miracle story.
Jonel says
Wow, you are a very brave woman Sherry! Thanks for sharing your story and I hope it helps to heal you. I very glad things turned out for the best and Clara is healthy happy little girl.
My second child was born still at 31 weeks due to a cord problem. I, like you, had an uneventful pregnancy and even though I knew he wasn’t going to scream or cry when I gave birth, I still secretly hoped he would. The hardest part (besides not having my baby) was I just bought his mattress, stroller, and crib sheets. So I was at home waiting for items for a baby I would never be able to meet alive.
Sorry to go off in a tangent but I will be like you and have anxiety in my next pregnancy until I see and hear my baby cry. It’s hard not to worry after such a traumatic experience. I am so scared to buy or accept anything until I see my next little one. I understand your fears and I am hoping the next one will be stress free birthing process (i would say pregnancy, but who am I kidding).
YoungHouseLove says
Oh Jonel I’m so sorry for your loss. Thinking of you.
xo,
s
Victoria says
Jesus Henry Christ! What is wrong with you woman!?! I’m not one to get emotional, but this had me all teary-eyed. At work, nonetheless!!
I’m so glad everything turned out so well. So So So glad!
Melody says
What an insane and amazing story! Thank you for sharing it!
Harmony says
wow-I had to take a break halfway through because I couldn’t see through my tears. Thank you for sharing your story! I am so happy that Clara is happy and healthy!
Jo says
Oh Sherry, how scary! Thanks so much to both of you for sharing that story…
I’m 15 weeks pregnant and have my fingers well and truly crossed that everything goes all right. Sitting here in work – crying! But I’m gonna blame my hormones for that.
Best Wishes to both of you…
Michelle from The Cooking Life says
Sherry, thank you so much for writing this. I am not a mom yet but my husband and I are going to start trying for a family this summer. I am excited beyond words but nervous too (that’s natural, though). Everytime you guys write about your family, it makes my heart smile. Thank you for your transparency and know that I am rooting for y’all!
natalie G. says
Oh goodness, what a scary situation and dramatic entry into the world for sweet Clara. I’m glad all ended well, but that doesn’t erase the fear and horror you guys went through. As far as subsequent pregnancies go, you feel whatever you need to feel; you’ve been through trauma and her birth was a life-changing experience (moreso than the usual, healthy birth). I am on my 5th pregnancy, hoping to hold our first child this summer. Even at 25 weeks along, I can’t bring myself to start a nursery or do any of the fun preparations because of the emotional scars from our first four pregnancies.
Big hugs to you for sharing this journey. Happy almost first birthday, sweet Clara! You guys are beautiful parents and I’m so happy for you.
Colette says
Amazing story. Unfortunately, I can relate… somewhat. I was pregnant with my 3rd when I started bleeding at 14wks… was put on bedrest at 18 wks… and delivered at 27wks due to placental abruption. She was born 3 months early only weighing 2lb 4oz and I am blessed to say that my beautiful baby girl is now 2.5 yrs and you wouldn’t know she entered the world in such a dramatic way. She is perfectly healthy and has no complications. We always joke that since she’s the 3rd child, she had to be tough.
Sounds like you grow’em strong. I totally understand your fears and concerns for the next pregnancy, but your dr’s will take good care of you. I would think you’ll be considered high risk for your next pregnancy and they’ll probably want to deliver you early, but if it ends with a happy, healthy, stress free delivery… totally worth it!
Much love, Colette
Sumeera says
Wow. I just cried and cried. Thank you for sharing.
Haley says
I read this while nursing my 5-week old little girl with tears running down my face! I feel like I can imagine how scary it was, having had my pregnancy spiral out of my control at the end there. My delivery was much less traumatic, but I still cry when I think about how scared and helpless my husband felt when things began to unravel. On a vain/positive note, at least you look amazingly beautiful in your first family photos :). I burst nearly every blood vessel in my face while pushing my girl into the world and looked like someone threw a bucket of red paint on my face. No photos were taken until my chickie was a week old. Congratulations on having a 1-year old and surviving something so devastating. Your little family is so special!
elizabeth says
Im also at work, like one of your previous posters, and crying my eyes out.
We almost lost our first baby, after a routine visit to my OB, I was in the process of being sent home, but something didnt feel right to me, the baby looked different on ultrasound, unactive, floppy. I pressed and told the doc that something wasnt right (which I normally never do… mother instinct I guess) – we did some more testing and she was having decelerated heart rates and later learned she was likely also suffering from lack of oxygen – I was transported to hospital by EMS and she was born by emerg C-section. She was only 2 lbs 6oz and 32 weeks old. Although she had a 1 month stay in the NICU, Lillian did amazingly well, we are so very lucky. I later learned that we could have lost her at any time, especially if I had gone home. I felt so stupid in a way, like I should have known that she was suffering.
I know how you feel when you say you were in a shock state — things happening around you and you not really taking in what was really happening as they rushed me to C-section. My husband was more aware of what was happening and more aware of the complications when compared to me. I would cry every day after leaving the NICU, on our way home. It took me a long time to talk about it. I couldnt, and still cant, think about it without crying. I dont know if Ill ever ‘get over it’ — I cant imagine our lives, if we were not so lucky to have everything work out.
Lillian is 4 1/2 years old now — we just had another girl who is 5 months old. We waited awhile, likely subconsciouly, because my experience with Lillian scared the heck out of me. They are both healthy, we are so lucky. I know that many other moms have experience worse things and my heart goes out to them.
My OB was telling me that she had an abruption with her first child. Luckily, things went well. She had another baby a few years later, things went fine, no complications.
Thank you for writing. You all went through so much and thankfully you have a beautiful happy child.
Sorry about the long post.
Jules says
Tears. Some sad, some joyful, but tears all the same. Thank goodness the two of you are all right. (Prolapse and abruption! Unbelievable.)