Tuesday July 8th I went in to Forsyth hospital to begin my
induction process and to soften my cervix. I guess every woman decided to have
their baby during this time so we had to wait for a few hours before we could
even get a room. Finally around 5 ish they started my Pitocin and but it a balloon
type thing to open my cervix, which was excruciating. About 10 hours later and filling the balloon
up more I was only dilated to a 5 when the balloon came out (sweet relief). I was not dilating whatsoever so they
continued to bump my Pitocin up higher and higher. After about 24 hours of labor I threw the
towel in and got the epidural, I really wanted to have an all-natural birth but
my Pitocin was so high my contractions were too intense. My first epidural slipped out too much and
they had to do another one… yay the joy. Finally after almost 40 hours of labor
I was finally to a 10, and was so scared all I could do was cry. I wasn’t ready
for this, I wasn’t ready to start the process of losing her. I wanted her safe
in my tummy and she wanted to stay there. But regardless of what we wanted she had to
come, I had to see her face. I only
pushed for 30-40 minutes and then.. she was here in this cold world. Purple. Dark purple and not breathing. No crying,
nothing, just a limp purple baby. I screamed “there’s my baby!” only to see the
doctor look over at the nurse and shake his head. I took her on my chest and kept asking if she
was going to die and they looked and me and would say things like she has a
pulse but she is not breathing. All through
my pregnancy I would sing John Legends “All Of Me” to her, it was my way of
telling her that no matter what I would love her with everything I had. No matter
what crazy ride she had in store for me I would give it my all as long as she
gave me her all. We would fight, together. So naturally I started singing our
song and rocking her, over and over again.
Finally I saw her tiny little chest lift and fall, and then after 10 or
more minutes of me horribly singing a cappella to my limp purple baby she cooed
with me to the song. My. Heart. Sank. There she was, I knew we could do it. Finally
she started to turn pink and I stopped crying.
I did it. We did it. Or so we thought. We brought my family that was already there in
to see her naturally everyone was crying and in awe of my beautiful
creation. A little after her arrival my
dad left to go get my brothers, the new uncles of a beautiful 7lb 13oz 20 inch
long baby girl born July 10th at 11:33am Adalynne started having
trouble breathing. She kept gasping and
just could not get the hang of breathing. For those that will ask why they
didn’t put her on a monitor or ventilator, I chose comfort care for my child. No
invasive procedures that can cause her any pain are to be done. I want her
short time her comfortable and full of love. After two frantic calls to my
father and jay who left to get his car for work in the morning to hurry and get to the hospital as soon as
possible since the doctors were telling me she would not survive very long. We had
our whole crew in one room gazing at my baby as she struggled for each
breath. My amazing delivery nurse
contacted an organization called Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep. It’s full of
volunteer professional photographers who come and capture pictures of terminal
babies or still borns for families to have.
A wonderful photographer named Deborah came and took pictures of my
warrior and all of us. (thank you if you ever read this, my heart cannot even
fathom the words of appreciation) Well my warrior fought like we do and with a
little help from some morphine calmed down enough to learn how to breathe. She continued
to do well except for seizures that stopped her breathing but we got to go
home!! Once we got home she has been doing well, has days where she will stop
breathing and with some stimulation will start back up also has tremors. If she gets too cold or has too much stimulation
her episodes start. My heart aches
knowing that one day I may not catch it in time to get her going but I try to
let it go. Knowing you’re going to lose
your child is the hardest thing I have ever faced in my life. Even though she is doing okay most days I know
eventually the hope runs out, she is missing over a third of her brain. She amazes
me with her funny faces and fight. She still doesn’t cry, just opens her mouth
and sticks her tongue out when she gets hungry (cutest thing ever.) I still
sing her our song every day, and I always will.
Having her here is the hardest reality check seeing her beautiful
perfect face and knowing I only get a small time to enjoy it makes me want to
spend every second wrapped in her, and I will until I don’t have her any more. I
want to say the biggest thank you to our family that came up to see her from
near and far to help for a few days, biggest blessing ever I you all so much. Sorry for the late long post, like I said
every second I have is spent wrapped up with my warrior baby. Love to you all
beautiful souls thank you for the thoughts, prayers, and strength being sent
our way.
