I’ve been blessed beyond belief to have two beautiful children. I’ve been fortunate enough to experience pregnancy, to feel those wonderful miracles grow inside of me, though it wasn’t always easy. It took six long years to get Savannah here, and I thought that was difficult. Little did I know what Benjamin would have in store for me.
From the very beginning, my pregnancy with Benjamin seemed more difficult than my pregnancy with Savannah. I was sick non-stop for a little over a month. Crazy sick. Wake up in the middle of the night wanting to die, sick. And then, with the help of medication I was still sick non-stop, but not as bad for another few months. After that, I was only sick in the evenings and had to be in bed no later than 8:00 PM. Who ever came up with the term “morning sickness” surely didn’t have a pregnancy like mine! Finally, at around seven months I was pretty much over the worst and looking forward to meeting my little man.
When we found out we were having a boy we were overjoyed. I wasn’t too surprised though. I remember one night several months earlier when Savannah had been throwing up every few hours and came into bed with me while Tom cleaned up her latest offerings. I held her on top of my huge belly while she slept and then I felt the most wonderful thing. It was Benjamin (although we didn’t know his name at the time), kicking her with his tiny little legs. It was just a little kick, but it was the first movement I had felt on the outside of my belly and it was amazing. I remember thinking to myself, “Do you feel that Savannah? It’s your baby brother kicking you!” That was a good memory.
I got big with Benjamin - really, really, big. Maybe it was because the only thing that would make me feel remotely better was eating. And I ate constantly. I had gone ten days overdue with Savannah, so I knew that Benjamin would probably follow in his sister’s foot steps. As the final days and weeks dragged on, I became increasingly more uncomfortable and ready to have the baby come. He was in the breech position until about 38 weeks when he decided to turn on his own. I was very grateful for this because the possibility of a c-section really worried me.
I had all kinds of expectations of how things would be. Now that the baby has turned, the labor and delivery would be a piece of cake because that’s just how the second time around is supposed to be. I was nervous about being a mother to two children, because one child was already a handful for me. But this baby wasn’t going to stay inside me forever, and so I waited.
After a lot of prayer and consideration we decided that I would be induced. In fact, my mom had put my name on the temple prayer roll because I thought I could use “all the help I could get”. My name was put on a waiting list at LDS hospital and four days before my due date, we got the call. It was around 11:00 PM when we headed for the hospital.
I was already dilated to a 2 + when we arrived and a prime candidate for induction. They hooked me up to all of the monitors and started the pitocin. I felt like an old pro having gone through this before, and yet I was still a bit nervous. But it was more an excited nervous than anything else. We were about to have our second baby, and I couldn’t wait.
Labor wasn’t bad in the beginning. In fact I lasted a few hours before I asked for an epidural. The only problem was that I wasn’t progressing like I had with Savannah. I would dilate a few cm’s in a short period of time and then stall for hours. My Dr. was on call that night so I was hoping that the baby would come before her shift ended at 7:00AM. Well, by the time 7:00AM rolled around I was only dilated to a 7 and the baby wasn’t dropping the way he should.
So far he was tolerating the contractions like a champ. His heart rate looked good, so they continued to increase the pitocin. It was around 8:00 AM when they called my Dr. at home to ask what they should do. Being the amazing Dr. that she is, she dropped everything, grabbed her two-year old son, and headed back to the hospital.
I could tell when she checked to see if I had progressed any further that she was worried. It was then that she gave me the news. If the baby didn’t come down in the next hour she would have to perform a c-section. This news came as a complete disappointment. I was scared at the possibility of the unknown. I was also worried that something was terribly wrong. I remember the whole evening being emotional, but this is when I broke down.
Holly arrived at the hospital right around this time and I remember her squeezing my hand and kissing my forehead. She knew how hard this was for me and tried her best to give me comfort. Jane was also in the room at the time and started to cheer, “come on baby, you can do it!” I realized that I couldn’t do this on my own, and asked my dad and Tom to give me a priesthood blessing. Shortly after, Tom decided to take a walk to get some fresh air and alleviate the pain from his mounting headache.
It was about forty-five minutes later when my Dr. came back. Benjamin’s heart rate had taken a significant dip and she wanted to asses the situation. I remember when I was in labor with Savannah listening carefully to her heart monitor. It’s something that I’m sure every new mother does. It’s like you live and breathe with the baby. When Benjamin’s heart rate dipped, I almost became paralyzed with fear. As Dr. Pieper checked me, she looked up with hope and said, “Well, it looks like you’re at a 9”. All in the same moment as I asked with tears of happiness, “Does this mean I don’t have to have a c-section?” his heart rate dipped again. This time it didn’t come back.
Mass chaos filled the room as my family was rushed out and hospital personnel rushed in. “Page the father! Page the father!” someone shouted. This is when the pain began. An intense burning sensation surged throughout my belly. It was a horrific pain but as much as it hurt my concerns were with the baby. “Please, please, I urged, please don’t let anything happen to my baby!”
As I was frantically wheeled down the hallway I looked into the helpless faces of my family members and begged them to pray for us. Tom was at the end of the hallway dressing from head to toe in his hospital scrubs. He looked just like I felt - completely terrified. The pain in my abdomen increased as I was being prepped for an emergency c-section. I was shaking uncontrollably as the anesthesiologist tried to administer a spinal block to alleviate the pain. We were racing against the clock. “Please, baby… come on, you can do it! Please don’t die”, I begged over, and over, and over again. Tom tried to reassure me that everything would be okay. We locked eyes. It was the most scared I’d ever been. He squeezed my hand tightly. “It’s gonna be okay, you’re doing great,” Tom repeated over, and over, and over. “Look at me,” Tom persisted, “it’s gonna be okay.” But somehow, it felt like he was trying to convince himself more than anything else.
“Heidi,” Dr. Pieper said with sense of urgency, “tell me if you can feel this”. It was a standard c-section procedure. She wanted to know if I could feel my belly before she made the incision. “Yes! I can feel it, I can feel it!” “Can you feel this? She asked again.” “Yes, yes!” I said panicked. “Okay, we don’t have time; we have to put her out!” And that was the last thing I remembered.
When I woke up from surgery, I was told the horrific details. How my uterus and uterine artery had ruptured. How my baby had to be resuscitated and didn’t have a heart tone for more than two minutes. How his blood gas levels were so bad that they didn’t know if he would have brain damage. How ten minutes meant the difference between life and death for me and the baby. It was too much to take in.
I was grateful to be alive. I was grateful that Benjamin was alive. Those were the things that really mattered. Over the next days, weeks, and months, I would make a slow recovery. Benjamin was an angel from the very beginning. There was a connection between the two of us. Like we had beaten the odds together. He only had to spend a week in the NICU and was finally released because he was the “noisiest baby in the room.”
We were grateful. And so was everyone else. I remember shortly after I had come home from the hospital how everyone came together. When saying good-bye to me Holly would say, “I’m glad you’re here.” How Tom would hug me a little tighter for a little longer. How I would never look at Savannah the same way. Or life for that matter.
This whole experience made me realize again how important family is. How grateful I am for Tom and Savannah and Benjamin. How I know that Heavenly Father has a plan for each of us. How I know that it was the power of priesthood that saved me and Benjamin that day. How nothing really matters except for the love you have for the ones you love the most. I hope I always remember that.
From the very beginning, my pregnancy with Benjamin seemed more difficult than my pregnancy with Savannah. I was sick non-stop for a little over a month. Crazy sick. Wake up in the middle of the night wanting to die, sick. And then, with the help of medication I was still sick non-stop, but not as bad for another few months. After that, I was only sick in the evenings and had to be in bed no later than 8:00 PM. Who ever came up with the term “morning sickness” surely didn’t have a pregnancy like mine! Finally, at around seven months I was pretty much over the worst and looking forward to meeting my little man.
When we found out we were having a boy we were overjoyed. I wasn’t too surprised though. I remember one night several months earlier when Savannah had been throwing up every few hours and came into bed with me while Tom cleaned up her latest offerings. I held her on top of my huge belly while she slept and then I felt the most wonderful thing. It was Benjamin (although we didn’t know his name at the time), kicking her with his tiny little legs. It was just a little kick, but it was the first movement I had felt on the outside of my belly and it was amazing. I remember thinking to myself, “Do you feel that Savannah? It’s your baby brother kicking you!” That was a good memory.
I got big with Benjamin - really, really, big. Maybe it was because the only thing that would make me feel remotely better was eating. And I ate constantly. I had gone ten days overdue with Savannah, so I knew that Benjamin would probably follow in his sister’s foot steps. As the final days and weeks dragged on, I became increasingly more uncomfortable and ready to have the baby come. He was in the breech position until about 38 weeks when he decided to turn on his own. I was very grateful for this because the possibility of a c-section really worried me.
I had all kinds of expectations of how things would be. Now that the baby has turned, the labor and delivery would be a piece of cake because that’s just how the second time around is supposed to be. I was nervous about being a mother to two children, because one child was already a handful for me. But this baby wasn’t going to stay inside me forever, and so I waited.
After a lot of prayer and consideration we decided that I would be induced. In fact, my mom had put my name on the temple prayer roll because I thought I could use “all the help I could get”. My name was put on a waiting list at LDS hospital and four days before my due date, we got the call. It was around 11:00 PM when we headed for the hospital.
I was already dilated to a 2 + when we arrived and a prime candidate for induction. They hooked me up to all of the monitors and started the pitocin. I felt like an old pro having gone through this before, and yet I was still a bit nervous. But it was more an excited nervous than anything else. We were about to have our second baby, and I couldn’t wait.
Labor wasn’t bad in the beginning. In fact I lasted a few hours before I asked for an epidural. The only problem was that I wasn’t progressing like I had with Savannah. I would dilate a few cm’s in a short period of time and then stall for hours. My Dr. was on call that night so I was hoping that the baby would come before her shift ended at 7:00AM. Well, by the time 7:00AM rolled around I was only dilated to a 7 and the baby wasn’t dropping the way he should.
So far he was tolerating the contractions like a champ. His heart rate looked good, so they continued to increase the pitocin. It was around 8:00 AM when they called my Dr. at home to ask what they should do. Being the amazing Dr. that she is, she dropped everything, grabbed her two-year old son, and headed back to the hospital.
I could tell when she checked to see if I had progressed any further that she was worried. It was then that she gave me the news. If the baby didn’t come down in the next hour she would have to perform a c-section. This news came as a complete disappointment. I was scared at the possibility of the unknown. I was also worried that something was terribly wrong. I remember the whole evening being emotional, but this is when I broke down.
Holly arrived at the hospital right around this time and I remember her squeezing my hand and kissing my forehead. She knew how hard this was for me and tried her best to give me comfort. Jane was also in the room at the time and started to cheer, “come on baby, you can do it!” I realized that I couldn’t do this on my own, and asked my dad and Tom to give me a priesthood blessing. Shortly after, Tom decided to take a walk to get some fresh air and alleviate the pain from his mounting headache.
It was about forty-five minutes later when my Dr. came back. Benjamin’s heart rate had taken a significant dip and she wanted to asses the situation. I remember when I was in labor with Savannah listening carefully to her heart monitor. It’s something that I’m sure every new mother does. It’s like you live and breathe with the baby. When Benjamin’s heart rate dipped, I almost became paralyzed with fear. As Dr. Pieper checked me, she looked up with hope and said, “Well, it looks like you’re at a 9”. All in the same moment as I asked with tears of happiness, “Does this mean I don’t have to have a c-section?” his heart rate dipped again. This time it didn’t come back.
Mass chaos filled the room as my family was rushed out and hospital personnel rushed in. “Page the father! Page the father!” someone shouted. This is when the pain began. An intense burning sensation surged throughout my belly. It was a horrific pain but as much as it hurt my concerns were with the baby. “Please, please, I urged, please don’t let anything happen to my baby!”
As I was frantically wheeled down the hallway I looked into the helpless faces of my family members and begged them to pray for us. Tom was at the end of the hallway dressing from head to toe in his hospital scrubs. He looked just like I felt - completely terrified. The pain in my abdomen increased as I was being prepped for an emergency c-section. I was shaking uncontrollably as the anesthesiologist tried to administer a spinal block to alleviate the pain. We were racing against the clock. “Please, baby… come on, you can do it! Please don’t die”, I begged over, and over, and over again. Tom tried to reassure me that everything would be okay. We locked eyes. It was the most scared I’d ever been. He squeezed my hand tightly. “It’s gonna be okay, you’re doing great,” Tom repeated over, and over, and over. “Look at me,” Tom persisted, “it’s gonna be okay.” But somehow, it felt like he was trying to convince himself more than anything else.
“Heidi,” Dr. Pieper said with sense of urgency, “tell me if you can feel this”. It was a standard c-section procedure. She wanted to know if I could feel my belly before she made the incision. “Yes! I can feel it, I can feel it!” “Can you feel this? She asked again.” “Yes, yes!” I said panicked. “Okay, we don’t have time; we have to put her out!” And that was the last thing I remembered.
When I woke up from surgery, I was told the horrific details. How my uterus and uterine artery had ruptured. How my baby had to be resuscitated and didn’t have a heart tone for more than two minutes. How his blood gas levels were so bad that they didn’t know if he would have brain damage. How ten minutes meant the difference between life and death for me and the baby. It was too much to take in.
I was grateful to be alive. I was grateful that Benjamin was alive. Those were the things that really mattered. Over the next days, weeks, and months, I would make a slow recovery. Benjamin was an angel from the very beginning. There was a connection between the two of us. Like we had beaten the odds together. He only had to spend a week in the NICU and was finally released because he was the “noisiest baby in the room.”
We were grateful. And so was everyone else. I remember shortly after I had come home from the hospital how everyone came together. When saying good-bye to me Holly would say, “I’m glad you’re here.” How Tom would hug me a little tighter for a little longer. How I would never look at Savannah the same way. Or life for that matter.
This whole experience made me realize again how important family is. How grateful I am for Tom and Savannah and Benjamin. How I know that Heavenly Father has a plan for each of us. How I know that it was the power of priesthood that saved me and Benjamin that day. How nothing really matters except for the love you have for the ones you love the most. I hope I always remember that.
This past General Conference a talk was given titled, “Don’t Leave for Tomorrow What You Can Do Today”. In the talk, Elder Claudio R. M. Costa read a poem it is entitled "Tomorrow Never Comes" and is based upon a poem by Norma Cornett Marek.
If I knew this would be the last time I would watch you sleep,I would hug you tighter. I would plead with the Lord to protect you.If I knew this would be the last time I saw you walk out the door,I would hug and kiss you and call you back to hug and kiss you one more time.
If I knew this would be the last time I would hear your voice in prayer,I would record every gesture, every look, every smile, every one of your words,So that I could listen to it later, day after day.
If I knew this would be the last time, I would spend an extra minute or two to tell you, "I love you," instead of assuming you already knew it.
If I knew this would be our last time, our last moment, I would be by your side, spending the day with you instead of thinking,"Well, I'm sure other opportunities will come, so I can let this day go by."
Of course there will be a day to revise things,And we would have a second chance to do things right.Oh, of course there will be another day for us to say, "I love you."And certainly there will be another chance to tell each other, "Can I help with anything?"But in my case, there isn't one!I don't have you here with me, and today is the last day we have—our farewell.Therefore I would like to say how much I love you,And I hope you never forget it.
Tomorrow is not promised to anyone, young or old.Today might be your last chance to hold tight to the hand of the one you love and show all you feel.
If you are waiting for tomorrow, why not do it today?Because if tomorrow never comes, you certainly will regret for the rest of your life
Not having spent some extra time for a smile, a conversation, a hug, a kiss,Because you were too busy to give that person what ended up being their last wish.
Then hug tight today the one you love, your friends, your family, and whisper in their ears how much you love them and want them close to you.Use your time to say,"I'm sorry,""Please,""Forgive me,""Thank you,"Or even,"That was nothing,""It's all right,"
Because if tomorrow never comes, you will not have to regret today.The past doesn't come back, and the future might not come!10
And that’s exactly how I hope to live my life.
7 comments:
I am very glad you and Benjamin are here. I know this was hard for you to write and I pray that it brings you peace to share it. God Bless you and your family and I love you...I look forward to seeing you in a few months...
Ok, of course after an already emotional day for me, I had to come home and read this!Tears a flowin! I too am grateful that you are ok, and your little fuzzy headed handsome boy. You know I couldn't have made it having lost another person I care about and love like my own sibling.That poem is so true. Once you experience a loss, or come close to one, you truly look at life very differently.I am just grateful that your family doesn't have to live with any regrets on your behalf. I love ya!
you and benjamin are our miracles. i remember that day all too well...although i think our minds want us to forget. maybe tom and i should write down the things we remember while you were under the anesthetia?? i love you and i really am glad you're here. :)
It's so funny how things seem between you and me, Kid. I remember right around the time he was born feeling like I needed to call you, like something new was happening for you. It's always that way. I just "know" I should at least say a little Heidi prayer. I'm glad your little man made it through okay. We had a VERY similar birth with CJ, and almost lost him, too. It's so scary when that happens.
Heidi I'm really grateful you posted that even though the tears just flowed and I could barely read it. It reminded me of that day and how I felt. As heart wrenching as that experience was, you writing it in your own words reminded me how grateful I am for you, Benjamin and our whole family. Especially my new little family with Ryan. I'm so grateful for the blessing to have you both alive. I love you so much!
Wow! I never really knew the details of that at all. I am so, so grateful that you & Benjamin are healthy and well. Thanks for helping me remember how precious my time is here, and especially how precious my family is.
Thank you so much for sharing this. I can relate to it on so many levels.
During our "ordeal" I also learned, as I'm sure you did, how much of an affect I have had on others. I heard from people I hadn't talked to in years, letting me know they were thinking about my family and praying for us.
As heartbreaking and scary as these experiences are, it is hard not to be greatful for them.
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