Miracle

     I will never forget the day when my doctor told me that I the chances of me ever being able to have a baby were close to zero. I was twenty three years old, early in my recovery from anorexia, and dealing with a devastating diagnosis called gastroparesis. The illness had progressed quickly and I started having problems with the tube feeds that were helping me to get the nutrition my body needed to live since my stomach no longer worked. I had a surgery that left me with less than seven percent of my stomach left, done in hopes of helping food empty from my paralyzed stomach. The surgery didn't work, made me sicker, and I ended up on IV nutrition called TPN. The doctor explained that I could barely keep enough nutrition to sustain my life,  rarely got my period, and being on TPN is dangerous. It increases the risk of dangerous line infections causing sepsis, and long term TPN damages the liver and sometimes the kidneys. They kept me on birth control because they said if I got pregnant I would most likely miscarry. I left the office that day heartbroken, all I had ever wanted was to have babies and be a mom, and now I was losing that dream. My boyfriend tried to comfort me, but there was nothing anyone could say to heal my heart in that moment.
     The months passed and life moved on, as it always does. I became engaged to my boyfriend, and his three kids came to live with us. I was getting to be a mom to a 3, 4, and 7 yr old...I loved them very much. It wasn't until their mom was granted her visitation that I had to face the fact that I loved those kids, but they would never be just mine, and as much as loved them like a mother loves her kids I would never hear them call me 'mommy'. They were so sweet to me, and the time they lived with us will always be special to me. On our first Mother's Day I had to send them to their mom's house and I was called into the emergency room because my blood work had come back bad.
     It was May 8, 2010, Mother's Day when I found myself admitted to the hospital with a blood infection from my central line where I was receiving my TPN. Sepsis has to be treated with high dose broad spectrum antibiotics usually. I was going to need three weeks of IV vancomycin to clear my blood of the life threatening bacteria. I remember my fiance talking to the doctor about risk of pregnancy since antibiotics can cause birth control to be ineffective, he was worried about the emotional and physical damage that could be done if I got pregnant and lost the baby. The doc said the same line we had heard before, that my body was too weak to support a pregnancy and we should continue the precautionary birth control. I went home after five days of stabilization in the hospital, and did my three weeks of IV vanc at home.
     These antibiotics do a great job of killing really nasty, dangerous bugs, but they also have some pretty icky side effects. I was so sick to my stomach from the meds alternating between throwing up and running to the bathroom. My head was killing me all the time, and when my fiance would cook breakfast the smell of eggs would have me retching. I ended up having to have surgery to remove my port and place a temp PICC line because the port had formed this sheath of infection coating it. So, I finished my antibiotics, it had been a little over two months since I had been admitted for my infection and I was headed to the doc to get cleared for another port to be put in. During the visit I told her that I thought I had a UTI and I just hadn't been feeling well, throwing up at the smell of things, and getting headaches all the time. She just laughed for a second and said that if she didn't know any better she'd say I was pregnant. She decided to run a pregnancy test with my UA, we laughed, and she told me she would call me to let me know if I needed more antibiotics. I couldn't even let myself think anything about the pregnancy test, I didn't want to get hurt anymore.
     As I walked into the apartment my phone rang, and I answered to hear my doctor sounding almost out of breath. All I could hear was, "You're pregnant"! I went silent for a minute, long enough for her to ask if I was doing okay. I think she was more freaked out than me at that point. She started telling me how much of a shock this was, gave me my first appointment with the OB, which was only a couple days away. She was using words like 'high risk' and 'viable', but all I could think of was that I had a baby growing inside me at that moment, something that I had been told was impossible. I think I scared the crap out of my son's father, who was waiting on a bus home after buying a new phone to replace the one he lost. I wouldn't tell him what the doctor said over the phone, and he was nervous thinking I was needing to go to the hospital again. When he came home he stood in the doorway just worried and said, "What's wrong"? He didn't expect the words that I was going to say and proceeded to drop his brand new phone on the floor after I told him. To be honest his response was, "Get the f*** outta here"! He thought I was messing with him, when he realized I wasn't he decided we needed to take a home pregnancy test too, which turned positive pretty much immediately. I spent the rest of that night and day just in shock.
     At that first doctor's appointment that everyone is always so excited about things became more of a reality check. Luckily, they did the ultrasound before we went into the doctor's office for the 'talk' that would come. I got to see that tiny peanut in my stomach, it's little heart pounding, and the lady told us that it looked like we were at about nine weeks as she handed us a picture and herded us into the office. As I was holding the picture and thinking about my baby the doctor asked if we were would consider terminating the pregnancy because of my medical situation. She said that it was very unlikely we would both survive to term. I got angry pretty quick and said that wasn't an option, I was 24, I had a miracle in my stomach, and I had to trust that God was going to get us through. When she realized it wouldn't work trying to talk me into ending the pregnancy she started talking about all the things that were ahead of us. I would have to go to the doctor once a week until 25 wks, and then I would start coming twice a week for a biophysical profile ultrasound and an NST. I was on IV nutrition at the time, and it was made clear if I got another infection that the baby wouldn't survive. So, at 11 wks I would be scheduled for surgery to have a J tube put into my intestine to go back on tube feeds to try and get me and baby enough nutrition. I would also need to forms of insulin to manage my blood sugars that were all over the place from unnatural nutrition. It didn't matter to me what I had to do, I was going to get this baby out safely, even if it meant I would lose my life in the process.
     I had been placed on IV nutrition because I couldn't tolerate tube feeds anymore, the pain was so bad it would leave me curled up on in bed crying while I tried to get minimal tube feed formula into my intestine that would "dump" out before having much time to absorb. Having a central line puts you at risk for blood infections that can be deadly, and TPN makes those chances even higher. We couldn't risk it during the pregnancy, esp since it was an infection that led to this pregnancy. As I drifted off into anesthesia land the day of my j-tube surgery I was terrified. How would my little baby react to the poking around, moving intestine, and shoving another tube into my small intestine. When I woke up the pain didn't matter, I kept asking about the baby, and no matter how many times they said that his heartbeat was good it wasn't enough. They ended up having to show me an ultrasound before I calmed down. I had complications after the surgery, that I had never had after that surgery before. I was violently throwing up, eventually I started throwing up black, which surprisingly I didn't end up needing more surgery or even blood. The pain was so bad even at the lowest rate I had to take pain medication. I cried for hours feeling like  was a horrible mom, how could I expose my child to narcotics. My OB was great during this time, she calmed me down as much as I could be, explaining that we had to do whatever we could to get the baby and me nutrition. I wasn't gaining wt and out little boy (we found out during one of our many ultrasounds) was measuring small. We would have to do whatever we needed to make sure that he could get what he needed to grow.
     After that surgery I had to spend most of my time in bed, only getting up and around to go to doctor's appointments and special activities. We made it to 23 wks, meaning we had a viable baby, then we made it to thirty weeks, and we beat all odds when we arrived at 37 wks, which is considered a term baby. My original due date was going to be March 2, but the c-section was scheduled for the last week in Feb at 39 wks. It was February 17 when we went to our normal doctor's appointment for an ultrasound and NST. I wasn't having any signs that my body was going to go into labor naturally, we were just moving along anxiously awaiting our c-section date. Who would've guess that things would turn completely upside down that day.
     I was laying on the table looking at the monitor in awe of my amazing little miracle when I noticed the ultrasound tech had a look on her face that wasn't her usual cheery smile. When I asked her what was wrong she explained that our little man wasn't responding, he wouldn't move, or practice breathe, the only score he got was for having a heartbeat. She buzzed my belly trying to get his attention, and when that didn't work she left the room with a quiet, "I'll be right back". When she came back she told us we were going down to triage where they would monitor baby for awhile. She saw my concern and tried to reassure me and told me that there was a good chance I would be meeting my son that day. My fiance did his best to reassure me and held my hand as we took the elevator downstairs.
    I'm not stranger to the ER, so it wasn't like I was shocked when they pulled us into a tiny room and took my blood pressure and pulse. I expected to go in another room and be hooked up to a monitor when I looked down and saw on the paper work the words written in ink pen in all caps "STAT C-SECTION". In that instance I went from desperately wanting to meet my son to panicking. I suddenly wasn't ready, we hadn't brought anything with us, this wasn't supposed to be happening right now, would I be able to do this, to be a good mom? Josh tried very hard to calm me down and hide his own anxiety as we were hurried to the lab, and then rushed from the lab after a phone call for labor and delivery telling them they didn't want me to wait to get labs, I needed to be upstairs asap. When I got there I was suddenly surrounded by nurses and residents asking questions, hooking me up to monitors, trying to get an IV, and all the while I was just trying to breathe because I was terrified. So terrified that I actually started to contract pretty consistently and not even realize it until the nurse pointed it out. They explained that if baby started to move a bit we could wait two hours for my doc to get there, but if things didn't look good I was going to the OR right away. Luckily, he started moving a bit, which allowed Josh to run next store to the grocery store and buy a disposable camera since we had nothing and the gift shop was completely out. Him, being the sensitive guy he is came back with three beverages and a sandwich for himself. My nurse called him an ass for drinking and eating in front of me, which honestly wasn't the most important thing on my mind. My parents were on their way from two hours away, both thinking we had another week until baby came.
     At noon I was ushered into the OR where I quickly had a spinal block placed and was prepped for surgery. Me, being the weirdo I am, asked if I could watch my son be born. My doc told me that wasn't a good idea, which again I argued that if Josh could watch then I should be able to. She quickly came back by reminding me it wasn't Josh's guts that she was going to be cutting into. It's absolutely amazing how fast they go from prepping you to delivering the baby. It was 12:34 when my beautiful Damien was born to the song Rockstar by Nickleback, weighing in at 6lbs 10 oz, and 19 in tall. He cried like a champ, and I fell in love when Josh brought that amazing bundle over and put him on my chest, those beautiful blue eyes were just gazing at me, he knew I was his momma. They had said he would be too small and need to be in NICU for that and because he would have to be weaned off the narcotics I had to have during my pregnancy. By the grace of God those doctors were absolutely wrong, not only was my son born at a healthy wt, he had no signs of narcotic withdrawl, and blood work showed no narcotic levels in his blood. None of the doctors could explain it. Our son was miraculous and absolutely perfect.
     What caused him to be unresponsive that day, the official word was that I was so small that he just didn't have any room left to really move, and he wanted out. In the recovery room my doctor said that she couldn't say for sure, but she thought Damien knew I was in bad shape. We found out with the blood work that day that I was completely malnourished, dehydrated, my labs were not good at all, and my heart was having long QT issues. Damien had taken every little bit of nutrition I could get in, which is what I wanted. The doctor called him a little parasite, which I was initially offended by in my emotional state, but I got over that. My heart could have given out even with our scheduled delivery date a week away. I believe Damien saved me, after he was delivered they were able to correct all the electrolyte issues and get my heart stable. I spent over twenty four hours resting and then I was able to get out of bed and do more with Damien without help.
     Damien is my miracle, against all odds that little boy made it. He changed my life, saving me in every way a person can be saved. He may have saved my life the day he was born, but he saved me from the person I used to be. I had just barely gotten into a stable recovery from my anorexia when I found out I was pregnant with Damien. I was struggling with keeping my recovery and dealing with all the chronic medical things I had going on. I was learning to accept that I was going to battle my body for the rest of my life, always needing feeding tubes and IV lines to stay alive. I had wondered what was the point of recovery if my body was going to be sick forever, I didn't know what the point was of fighting. Then I found out I was pregnant with Damien, and I had fight for him, my body had to keep him alive, and bring him into this world healthy. It wasn't until the second night in the hospital, Josh had gone home to the other kids (my step children) and it was just me and Damien. I was holding him, talking to him about things, he looked into my eyes, and he smiled. I knew at that moment the past was going to stay in the past. I couldn't ever let that demon back in control, let my son see the miserable person I was before, and I sure as heck wasn't going to let him see me on an eating disorder unit. I promised him that I wouldn't leave him, that I would fight, and do whatever I had to do to make sure that I was there for my baby. It has been nine years and I have kept that promise. Damien has blessed me in more ways that I can even put to words. There is no doubt in my mind that he is a miracle, not only because he proved all the doctors wrong by even existing. He is a miracle that gave me the strength I didn't know I had to fight everyday for my recovery, to realize that I was more than all the bad things that had happened to me, that I didn't have to punish myself anymore, and by making me a mom he helped me realize that I was a survivor. Being a mom there is no time for me to feel sorry for myself and the fact that I am sick. I have to fight because I have a child that needs me, and he brings a light into my life I didn't know what possible. If you doubt  that miracles can happen, I have a living, breathing one smiling at me right now.