As a new, expecting mom at the time, I worried a lot about giving birth. What if I had complications? How bad would it hurt? Would I even be able to do it? These were all the worries that constantly ran through my head while I was pregnant. Yes I know, hundreds of thousands of women give birth every day but how was my labor and delivery going to play out? Every birth story is so uniquely special and that’s why I am so excited to finally share Brock’s with all of you.
I started writing this during his nap time one day and when he woke up I caught myself staring at him in disbelief that he was going to be turning three soon. I was still a little emotional from looking at his newborn pictures when I said to him, “Bub, you’re going to be three soon, mama might cry.” To which he responded with the cutest empathy, “Mama, you’re going to cry? But I love you.” He then reached over and gave me the sweetest hug and I’m sure you all can guess, yes, I was in tears then. Sappiness aside, let’s take it back to three years ago. Enjoy part 1 of this 2 part birth story.
In order to share Brock’s birth story fully, we have to begin a few weeks prior to his actual birth. September 17th, 2017. It was the day of my twin sister’s bridal shower, and I was hosting.
When I went to sleep the night before, I was approaching 37 weeks pregnant and everything seemed great. Yes I was a little more tired than usual because I had spent the day prepping for the bridal shower but at midnight I had finally put the finishing touches on the balloon garland and was out the second my head hit the pillow. That morning, I woke up at 4 am to a startling pain in my right lower to mid abdomen. I didn’t think much of it until I tried to stand up and the pain became unbearable with each movement I made. I managed to get myself to the restroom to pee (because that’s what you do 100 times a day when your 37 weeks pregnant) and on my way back I got as far as the foot of the bed, my cheeks covered in tears from the pain and I was barely able to grab Derek by the ankle to wake him up. “We need to go to the hospital,” I whimpered. We didn’t remember to take anything with us, just crawled into the car and left. I remember asking Derek not to drive so fast because every little bump sent a tidal wave of pain through my right side.
Upon arrival Derek explained to the nurse what was happening and expressed his concerns that it could be my appendix. After further questioning from the nurse, she concluded that they most logical answer was probably dehydration as I revealed I had a sore throat for a couple weeks and wasn’t drinking as much water. They hooked me up to an IV, found Brock’s heart beat strong and steady, and showed him happily squirmy around in my tummy. Seeing Brock doing so well in the ultrasound convinced me that she was probably right and we headed home, even though the pain had yet to subside.
When we got home, I wasn’t as convinced. I worked my way up the stairs, clenching the staircase as tight as I could with every step. I knew I would not be able to make an appearance at my sister’s bridal shower in my current condition and people were suppose to start arriving soon. I remember Derek bringing me something to eat and that’s when we knew this wasn’t just dehydration. After only 2 or 3 bites, I was in the bathroom immediately; it wasn’t going to stay down. At this point any movement at all put me in excruciating pain and my only solution was to try not to move. I curled up in my pregnancy pillow on my bed, got as comfortable as a 37 week pregnant women can get and tried not to think about the pain. Luckily I fell asleep and woke a few hours later to Derek on the phone with the nurse again. He knew we needed to go back to the hospital.
Derek had already packed the car with our hospital bags this time. We didn’t know if we were headed in to have our baby but Derek knew he wasn’t going to let them send me home until the pain was gone. He was in it for the long haul. It seemed like deja vu driving to the hospital again that day. I felt the same pain on all the same bumps and I knew which ones to ask Derek to slow down for. We checked in again at Labor and Delivery and we were placed in a delivery room this time. After the nurse checked both mine and Brock’s vitals, the Doctor quickly came to see me. He heard out my story and immediately sent in for an MRI.
It was Sunday so the MRI specialist was on call but not present at the time. We waited several hours before the doctor considered a CAT Scan instead. Typically CAT Scans are not recommended for pregnant women but the doctor felt it was necessary in order to determine what was going on. After I returned to my hospital bed from the CAT Scan, the doctor entered just moments after. They had found the issue. Derek was right, it was my appendix. My appendix had not burst but was slowly leaking fluid into my abdomen. Because I was 37 weeks pregnant the Doctor said my only option was surgery and they needed to get in there as soon as possible. He was worried about the potential effects on the baby if it were to burst. A rush of anxiousness took over me and from that moment on everything was a blur.
Even amidst the heavy fog of worry and concern, I do remember two things very specifically after that. Right before Derek had to leave my side, before I was wheeled back for surgery, I remember asking him to pray for Brock and I. We were both crying through the prayer so I didn’t hear a single word but I know in that moment, God heard.
The second thing I remember was the moment I regained consciousness. The very second I woke up, I overheard the nurses talking about how my appendix had burst. Flashing back to the Doctor’s concerns for Brock if that were to happen, I went into a sudden panic. My body started uncontrollably shaking and I remember murmuring “It burst!?” “It burst!?” Realizing I was now awake, the nurses rushed to my side, calmed me down as much as they could from the extreme body shakes (partly from the meds wearing off and partly because I was freaking out) and assured me that everything went great. Yes it had burst but the doctor was confident that he cleaned everything out successfully. They would just need to keep an eye on Brock for the next few days while I recovered. I definitely woke up to the wrong part of that conversation.
Like I mentioned, I was 37 weeks pregnant at the time, not knowing whether we would be having our baby or not so we were cared for by labor and delivery. After my surgery we were sent to a postpartum room for my recovery. They wanted to keep an eye on Brock so we were required to stay for 4 nights total. Being in the postpartum hall still pregnant raised a few eyebrows for people and poor Derek must of had to explain our story more than a dozen times while we were there. After the 4th night of him sleeping on a hospital recliner and being asked repeatedly if we had a boy or a girl, I overheard him get a little snarky with one woman and respond “We had an appendix!” (Derek, if you are reading, that week alone made me so grateful that you are the person I get to do life with. Three years later, I feel that same gratitude. I love you.)
On our fifth day, after arriving to the hospital that Sunday, we were finally able to head home with a belly full of staples and a healthy growing baby, not once phased by anything that had just happened. We didn’t know then, but Brock still had another 2 weeks of growing to do. In the mean time, we waited anxiously, praying he would wait at least until my staples were out to make his appearance.
Now that you have heard the birth story of my appendix, I am even more excited to share Brock’s actual birth story. Part 2, coming soon.
Thank you so much for reading!
