My Little Butterfly

I'm not real big on super themed rooms. I have nothing against them--in fact, I'm always a little awed at how cute some people's kid's rooms are! But it's just not my thing to ever be THAT coordinated. Joshua's room had specific colors that I liked, and a monkey night light and light switch plate. That was the extent of the coordination.

When it came time to decorate Rebecca's room, I felt a little stuck. She would be sharing with the guest room, and I was adamantly against going pink. Too much pink, I thought, and I might hurl. So I opted for whites and yellows, and since the walls were blue, blue. Hints of pink--just hints. (Ended up with pink curtains, so the "hint of pink" is a little more than a hint ...) We didn't choose to go with any sort of animal theme, just colors and pretty decor.

It came time for me to send my ideas for the design of Becca's name print to our cousin, Emily. She designed Joshua's, and I was so excited to have another one done for my baby girl! I talked it over with Erik, we chose a verse, decided on the color scheme and then I asked him, "What should be on the picture?"

See, I didn't really want owls or birds, though those baby girl designs are adorable. I didn't want jungle beasts or zoo animals as that's Joshua's thing and I didn't want him stealing her picture. :) Butterflies had crossed my mind, but I don't love butterflies either (obviously I have a problem here). However, butterflies were seeming like the way to go. And when I asked Erik, he, on his own, said butterflies as well. So it seemed we were going with the butterfly idea! So I sent our notes to Emily so she could work her magic.

Life went on, days dragged on, and we finally reached Becca's birth day. I gathered a few items including a pink blanket with a butterfly on it. "Funny," I thought as I folded it, "there's a butterfly!"

Well you all know the story of Rebecca's arrival. What should have been a perfect labor and delivery ended up unexpectedly awful when our little girl came out limp and not breathing. (See here for the story). And in the days that followed, I started to notice something: there were butterflies everywhere. On blankets given as gifts, on sleepers received from out-of-state aunties, on toys for the car seat, on swaddle wraps from friends. At first I just thought, "Well obviously Target had a line of butterfly themed items this year."

But as I sat in the dimly lit NICU room, listening to the hum of the cooling machine that was working hard to cool my daughter in order to hopefully protect her brain from further damage, I realized something.

Becca is our butterfly. 

She came to us in this big person world but needed some extra time in a cocoon. Her cocoon happened to be a plastic box in the NICU but it was a cocoon all the same. My little girl needed some time to recover from what had happened to her--something that the rest of the world will never know or understand--and after a while in that cocoon, she could come out in all her butterfly glory. Which she has done fully--smiling and cooing and growing and pooping, my butterfly is stunningly beautiful.

And so now I have fully embraced this butterfly theme. The print from Emily is perfect. I had a light switch plate designed to match. Becca's Auntie Jen found her a butterfly costume for Halloween.

And I still notice butterflies on her clothes and blankets and just smile now because I realize it's not just a line from Target. It's a reminder of God's protection--God's miraculous protection--of my little butterfly.

Never Woulda Thought

When I woke up on September 21, 2012, I never woulda thought so much would happen in a matter of hours. My life took a major twist. And though we've ended up miraculously straightened back out, my heart will never be the same.

I never woulda thought that I was strangely and strongly led to schedule an induction--even though I'd never considered it before--because of what I now believe was an absolute need to get Rebecca out and into this world by 9:42pm on September 21. Only God knows why, but I am convinced that she needed to be out by that moment so that she could live.

I never woulda thought that my relatively easy,  normal, basically perfect pregnancy would end with such a bang ... and that Rebecca's life would begin with such panic.

I never woulda thought, as we toured the hospital in early August, that I'd know every crack in the floor, every turn in the hall from the parking garage to the NICU.

I never woulda thought that I'd be the one noticing lost, confused people in the hallways of the hospital and stopping to give them directions.

I never woulda thought that I wouldn't get the joy of wheeling through the halls with my brand new baby girl, showing her off to everyone in sight.

I never woulda thought that we would welcome no one but immediate family to meet Rebecca at the hospital, and that we wouldn't even be able to hold her until day four of her life.

I never woulda thought that I'd learn the lingo of the NICU, and be able to converse with other moms with the same experiences.

I remember the moment. The moment I knew something was wrong. She'd come super fast, and I was still reeling with the realization that my delivery was over. The doc pushed her onto my chest, but because she was so limp, her body kinda flopped. That's when I knew--I knew when I couldn't get a grasp of her, I knew when I didn't hear her cry. I knew when I asked, "Why isn't she crying?" and the nurse quickly whisked her away. I knew something was wrong.

And yet, I still can't figure out why I wasn't more upset. I wasn't more concerned. My sister jokes with me now about how I was asking if I could eat something--while my baby girl was barely breathing on her own in the other room. Why wasn't I bawling? Why wasn't I screaming for  her and begging her to be okay? Was I in denial? I know I was being shielded by my husband who didn't want me to know, by my sister who wasn't sure what to say, and by the doctor's who were busy just trying to figure out what went wrong.

I do remember shaking--violently shaking anytime I'd allow my thoughts to drift to her. So I think I just didn't--I just didn't think. I asked for crackers, I talked to the doctor, and did everything I could to just get through.

I don't remember feeling anything when I realized NICU had been called in. I DO remember feeling something when they stopped long enough to let me see her. Her little eyes blinked so slowly, and she took the most labored raspy breath ever. Her head was a funny shape, her color still a little off. Her cheeks were out of this world, and she had the same swatch of dark hair her brother had.

She was alive.

I knew in that moment, when my eyes locked with her, that everything was going to be all right. Even an hour later, when the neonatologist used the words "brain damage" and explained the cooling therapy and the drugs and the risks ... even when my thoughts, my horrible dark selfish thoughts were, "I can't do this. She'll mess up our life. How will her disabilities affect Joshua? And our family? I want to start over!", a sense of peace settled over me. In that moment, I knew--and I never woulda thought--that no matter what, Rebecca Elizabeth, developmental delays, possible brain damage and all, would be and already was a member of this family. No matter what, this little girl would change our lives for the better. No matter what, Joshua would be shaped by his experience as big brother to this little angel. No matter what, Erik would be affected by her sweet presence and her smile. No matter what, this mama's heart would expand to include a little girl, who by no fault of her own, entered this world with a little unnecessary drama.

I never woulda thought we'd walk out of the NICU with a pink bundle of perfection with a clean bill of health.

I never woulda thought that we'd be one of those families with a story of how prayer works, God heals, and Facebook spreads the word. :)

I never woulda thought that I'd be sitting here, 13 days after her birth, and only 3 days after her arrival home, blogging about an experience that I never expected to have, with a tiny little lady with sparkly blue eyes, her brother's nose, her daddy's lips and the worst case of hiccups ever sitting in the bouncer next to me.

My God healed my baby girl. I believe that He knew something would go wrong in the birth canal. He knew that my daughter would not be breathing. He knew her brain would have "unhappy neurons" (I love how the NICU neurologists helps us understand things) and that evidence of seizures would display. He knew that Wednesday afternoon at 3:00 and 3:40, my little girl would stop breathing and need nurses to help her through it.

And oh mind you--I am human. I have yelled a little bit, and asked Him, "If you knew a bad thing was going to happen in there, why didn't you stop it? Why not heal it before the bad thing happened instead of allowing the bad thing to happen? Why allow my baby to come into the world this way? To go through this pain? Why would you have us walk this road?"

But even as I asked, I knew. Because He knew his people would rally to pray. He knew His name would be glorified, and that is why we exist here on earth--to bring glory to His name. And while I wonder why I needed to be the mama who went through this to bring Him glory, I know I am stronger because of it. Not stronger in myself, but stronger in Him. Never before have I been the recipient of such miracles.

I never woulda thought that this would be Rebecca's story. But truly, I can truly say: I'm grateful that it is.

My little miracle baby who didn't cry at birth is starting to cry now--apparently she's hungry again. :) Oh how I love that cry.

An Abnormal Experience

It is so against everything in my nature--in any mother's nature--to walk out of a room, leaving your newborn daughter alone in a plastic bed. All alone. In the dim lighting. With cords and wires and screens and beeping things.

It's so incredibly abnormal.

It's so abnormal to labor well, labor easily ... and shock the doctors by delivering a limp baby who's not breathing.

It's so abnormal to suspect no problems one minute, progress from 6 cm to birthing a child in less than 40 minutes, deliver a limp, gray little girl, and while trying to hold her ask, "What's wrong with her? Why isn't she crying? Why is she so limp?" 

It's so abnormal to finally get to hold your baby ... 4 days after her birth. How anyone ever goes any longer than that, I'll never understand.

It's so abnormal to feed your newborn as best you can, only to realize it's not enough, and then try to stuff her full with more, even when she's obviously porky and content.

It's so abnormal to begin to understand the "nurse speak" language, and be able to interpret for others.

It's so abnormal to come home every evening, a mother of two, to a home that only has one sleeping child.

It's so abnormal to have a closet full of pink things that your daughter is quickly growing out of that she can't wear because she's in the NICU.

There are so many thoughts that go through my head in a day. So many questions, so many wonderings. But more often than not, I'm just getting through. I'm doing what needs to be done. I'm focusing on my daughter and her needs. I'm praying for my son, that he'll come through this just fine. (And I know he will). I'm telling myself to rest, to relax, to hope, and to be grateful.

Because in addition to the abnormal list above, there are a few more:

It's also abnormal to have such a platform at such a young age. Baby Becca has spoken more boldly for the Lord in her 6 days of life than many of us ever have.

It's super abnormal to have upwards to 1,000 believers praying for your daughter, some as far away as Cambodia.

It's incredibly abnormal not to breath at birth, to have a neonatologist of 40 some odd years diagnose brain "insult", and have absolutely no evidence of "insult" whatsoever.

It's spectacularly abnormal to have super specific prayer requests blown out of the water, answered with huge "yes's" and miracles beyond our understanding.

It is very abnormal to be one of those families now--we are one of those incredibly blessed families. One of those families who can say, "This is Rebecca. She is a miracle."
 
It's so abnormal to hear a neonatologist use the words "brain damage" and still, somehow, deep within myself, have this deep, residing sense of peace that everything would be okay. I felt dumb at first--naive really. Erik and Tara had a different perspective than I did. Yes, I felt the birth and knew something was wrong but they had to watch it. Hear the doctors. See Rebecca not breathing. I felt so silly that I wasn't as upset. I wasn't worried. Truly I was--I just wasn't focused on it. There's so much a woman is doing post birth ... in my mind, she was going to be okay. Once I saw her breath and flutter her eyes at me, this is what I knew:

Rebecca is here. She is born. She is alive. She is part of our lives. And no matter what--brain damage or no brain damage. Developmental delays or no developmental delays. This little girl is now a part of us. She will shape us. Form us. Transform us. I am Rebecca's mom. Erik is Rebecca's dad. And Joshua is Rebecca's brother. And she is who she is, and we will love her fully. No matter what kind of changes this little girl brings to our lives, we are better for it. No matter what.

The doctors are still scratching their heads. They have no idea what went wrong.  That's abnormal--and our God is the God of abnormal. He was with Rebecca and me. He knew she needed to come when she did. He led me to schedule an induction, He walked with me as I labored and then birthed her very very quickly. He stood with Erik while he had to watch his baby girl get "bagged" and hear the initial words of concern from the doctors. He carried us as we walked those long halls toward the NICU to see our little girl. He sustained us as we held her little hand while she lay naked and cold. He held us up when they thought they saw more seizures at 3am. He cheered with us when we heard the magnificent news that there's no evidence of damage. And He is with us now as we figure out how to navigate these days of life in the NICU, while still loving our spunky little boy at home.

Rebecca Elizabeth, welcome to the world baby girl. You light up my life with your smiles. My breath catches in my chest when you open your eyes. Your cheeks make me giggle, and your very breath makes me cry. My dear daughter, you are exactly what this family needs. Thank you for stretching our faith muscles. Now please eat lots, and breath well so we can all live in this same house together! Joshua can't wait to play. :)