Delivering Porter

Pregnancy should be a happy time. It should be a time where you envision your child and dream for their future. But for me, pregnancy was a fight; my blood was battling itself, destroying platelets and hemoglobin, things important for sustaining good health. We made the decision to get a hematologist on board early in the pregnancy to monitor my levels and provide care and treatment if needed. Around 32 weeks pregnant, my levels took a dive for the worse, my platelets were in the danger zone (less than 50 thousand) and my hemoglobin (red blood cells) was at 7 (I was informed that if it hit 6, the baby would need to be taken out immediately and placed in the NICU). My body could not sustain our third child. Immediately, I was placed on a round of steroid treatments and given orders to see the ROC team and to see a physician instead of the midwife who I had known for about 8 years. My heart wept inside because the summer that I planned to spend with my older children had been torn away from me. I was sick, I was hurting, and I was stressed. All I wanted was to be able to make each moment count before delivery so that they would know that I loved them with all my heart. 

At around 36 weeks, the doctors decided that my body was not responding to the steroid treatment and that we needed to go ahead and try an IVIG treatment, wait a few days for my body to respond, and then induce labor around 38 weeks. On Monday, July 28^th, and Tuesday, July 29^th, I underwent the IVIG treatments, lasting 12 hours total. I returned to the doctor for labs on Thursday, July 31^st hopeful and optimistic that my treatment plan had worked and that both my platelets and hemoglobin levels would have risen enough for me to have a safer delivery. Much to everyone’s dismay, my platelet levels had tanked lower than they had ever been before – in the 30s. These numbers increased the risk of internal bleeding/hemorrhaging and blood loss. The hematologist immediately sent me across the street to the physician with direct orders to pull the plug on the pregnancy, that if we waited any longer, my levels would continue to plummet and create an even worse delivery scenario for me.

I sat in the van crying by myself for a good 30 minutes. There was nothing I could do. There was nothing anyone could do. I went inside and waited for the doctor to see me. While in a room waiting to be seen, I could hear him on the phone in the other room counseling with other doctors – the ROC team, the hematologist, maternal fetal medicine, Orange Park Labor and Delivery, etc. He had made the decision to start the induction that day. I was not ready. I needed one more day with my husband and kids.

My mom and I had a heart to heart before I left for the hospital about my fears and concerns about delivery. This was not going to be a regular delivery, the risks were great, and though I had had several blessings and prayer requests on my behalf, we didn’t know if things would be ok on this side of the veil, or the next. We knew, through prayer, that this third child was supposed to come to our family, but we didn’t know if it was Heavenly Father’s plan to remove me from the picture. Knowing that my fears and concerns were quite real, my mother gently asked if I needed a journal to record some last thoughts for them. As I look back on that moment, and I can see the pain in her eyes as she asked me to do that. What mother wants to think that this may the last time she sees her own child?  What a painful and emotional day of goodbyes and wishes of a healthy delivery.

As I packed to go to the hospital after lunch, I looked at my children and wondered if this would be the last time I would see them. I wanted to inch closer to them and sneak in as many snuggles as I could before and during nap. Grandma had made a Dinosaur Cave out of their bunk beds. I quietly moved the blanket doors over and asked Grandma if I could have some time with them. She carefully and quietly left the room so that I could be with them.  As I lay beside them, I reminded them how much I loved them and that they would always be in my heart. I vaguely remember Landon asking me when I would be coming home, and my heart sank because I didn’t know when or if I would. It was more than I could bare. 

As we arrived at the hospital and were directed to our room, I lost it. I was overcome with fear and panic and immediately had a meltdown. I did not want to be there. I wanted to go home, but I knew that it would be delaying the inevitable. As they hooked me up to the monitors, they found that the baby’s heart rate was racing and they immediately hooked me up to oxygen for an hour as they started the blood and platelet transfusions. I was also given 2 pills, one at 6pm and another at midnight, to help prepare my body for the Pitocin. It was a long, hard sleepless night of tossing and turning.

At 8am, I was a strong 4 cm dilated. Dr Edelenbos was content with the progress made through the pills and said that I was ready to go on Pitocin and have my water broken. I knew it was officially time for it to get real. I joked with Dr Edelenbos that I wanted this baby to be here around noon. He smiled at my optimism, but I had carefully calculated the numbers of 1 cm per hour on Pitocin up to 7 cm, and that 8, 9, 10 could just be in the same hour. I had even calculated that I would ask for a small dose of pain meds through my IV around 10 am if things progressed as planned.  Around 11, we knew we were getting close. Steven and I said one last prayer together at around 11:45 and as soon as the prayer was over, I felt that it was time. Steven immediately paged the nurse who quickly confirmed that I was right. Nurses were rushing all around and all I could think about was how Dr Edelenbos was going to be late and that someone else would have to catch the baby. I told him noon. I told him. People should listen to me.

Delivery was delivery. Everyone has to push, everyone feels pain. I was determined to make this delivery quick so that it didn’t linger on forever. I didn’t have an epidural, so I just wanted him out like every other mother delivering naturally. I just wanted to hold him in my arms and know that the pain was over and I could go home to my family, but that’s not what happened.

I pushed twice, out he came. I was immediately relieved and sent Steven to get pictures of the baby. Yes, that was one of my first thoughts, but only because I had NO pictures of Kaison after delivery and I felt horrible about it. Steven had instructions to leave my side and get pictures of them weighing him and all that business. Anyone who knows me, knows I like pictures. 

Steven was only away from my side a few minutes when things started getting intense. The doctor was still with me, the nurses were surrounding me, I was panicking. I kept asking to see my child, but they wouldn’t bring him to me. They were holding me down and I didn’t know why. Steven had to put the camera down and come back to my side to try to comfort and soothe me because I wasn’t listening. I wasn’t listening because I wanted to see my baby and needed them to bring him to me. Didn’t they know that’s all I wanted? The nurses were trying to get me to calm down as the doctor had me push out the placenta, and I did, but he remained there. Why would he not leave me alone? My mind was racing, I was shaking, I was exhausted, and I just wanted to hold my baby. I then heard him tell the nurse to “take the baby to the nursery”. WHAT!? No! A nurse brought him by my face so that I could get a quick glimpse of him. I vaguely remember kissing his head, but then he was gone. The nurses were still rushing around in the room, the doctor was still there reminding me to stay calm and giving the nurses orders of things to put in my IV. My head was spinning, I couldn’t keep up, it was a blur for a while. I just wanted to hold my child. It seemed like an hour before most everyone had vacated the room. I found that I was hooked up to two more units of blood and another bag of platelets. They wouldn’t let me move from the bed. And the baby still wasn’t there. After the chaos died down, the nurse explained that I had lost too much blood and that they were still monitoring my blood loss, and that I had to remain OR (operating room) ready. I almost died. I almost left my family.

After the nurse left our room, Steven and I thanked Heavenly Father for blessing us. We had to wait 3 hours for them to return with the baby. We hadn’t even named him yet because we wanted to see him. When they finally wheeled his baby cart into the room, I burst with tears of joy. I was so grateful to be able to be with him. I would get to be his mother. I would get to raise him. I was a part of Heavenly Father’s plan for his upbringing. He was perfect. As I held him in my arms for the first time, my heart swelled. It didn’t matter that I was still hooked up to blood and platelet transfusions, it didn’t matter that I felt ill. All that mattered was that he was here, I was here, and I would continue to be here for my husband and two other children. It was a long and emotional delivery, but I was alive. 

It’s amazing what you think about after you have a near death experience. You think about your dreams, your goals, and your family. You think about your shortcomings. You think about how you want to be better.  

I personally want to make each moment count. I want to be positive and focus on my blessings. I have a loving Father in Heaven who has blessed me with a loving husband and 3 beautiful children. I have friends and family who love me. I am rich, not with monetary things, but with things that count. I have a loving Savior, Jesus Christ, that made it possible for me to start fresh each day, trying to be better than the day before. It does not get any better than this.

Meet Porter Clark Epperson born August 1, 2014 at 12:07 PM, 8 pounds 13 ounces, 21 inches long. I get to be his mommy. What a blessing.