Amazing Grace

People have always thought I was strange because I love going to the doctor. Not for the medicinal aspect of it, but for that feeling I get when I get a diagnosis that explains something I have not been able to figure out about what’s going on with my body; or after hearing, “you’re going to be just fine” if I’ve gone in for an ailment, or simply receiving a nice clean bill of health. Ahhhhhh. I always walk out of the doctor’s office feeling as if I’ve been given a new lease on life. There’s usually a bit more pep in my step, optimism in my spirit, confidence in my soul. Weird, I know, but it’s true.

Today was my first well-woman exam since having Jace in March. There was to be nothing out of the ordinary about this visit. I called my OB/GYN’s office and set up an appointment, plugged it in the calendar on my Blackberry and called it a day. Now it was one hour before time for me to make the journey to my doctor’s office. This was to be the typical gynecology appointment, you know, complete with the plush bed, silk gown that opens in the front, fuzzy slippers to keep your toes warm as you place your feet in the stirrups, the twice-warmed and flexible speculum; oh and the complimentary cup of tea with a homemade crumpet to relax you during this long-awaited spa day. Yeah right! Okay, so that’s not quite what it’s like, but if you’re a woman you know I’m only slightly off ;-)

So I looked at the clock and realized time had gotten away from me, as I stood at the kitchen counter chopping and storing fruit to make my daily smoothie preparation easier. I hurriedly finished the fruit job, rushed to grab everything I needed to leave the house, kissed Jace goodbye, jumped in the car, and hit the road, all with very little time to think. As I approached the doctor’s office I felt my entire body tense up in a way I had never felt before…at least I thought. My heart started racing, and I felt this light tingle in what seemed to be every nerve in my body, really. I was caught off-guard by this random occurrence. This was a full-blown panic attack. I mean why would I be having a panic attack going to the gynecologist? Without delay, I immediately let my defenses down and no sooner than I did, it came right to me. I was instantaneously reminded of the weekly exams while in the hospital, pregnant with Jace.

On October 2009 I was diagnosed with vasa previa. “Vasa previa is a rarely (1:2500) reported condition in which fetal blood vessel(s) from the placenta or umbilical cord crosses the entrance to the birth canal, beneath the baby. The condition has a high fetal mortality rate of 50-95% (www.ivpf.org).” In laymen’s terms, there was a blood vessel along Jace’s umbilical cord, carrying his blood; that should have been encased inside the cord, instead it was totally exposed. This meant that any puncture or excessive amount of pressure could have caused the exposed vessel to rupture and interrupt the flow of blood from me to Jace. If this were to happen, it would have taken only approximately three minutes for him to bleed to death.

“When vasa previa is diagnosed, elective delivery by cesarean before labor begins can save the baby's life (www.ivpf.org). So…I was admitted to the hospital at 28 weeks due to pre-term labor. With the stakes being so high in the event of a rupture, my doctor demanded that I be admitted to the hospital immediately (after I had to advocate, but that’s a whole other entry), so that I could be under 24-hour watch and close to the ER in the event the unfortunate happened. I often described it as having a time bomb inside my body, and that in and of itself is a form of torture. I was in the hospital just under seven weeks, on complete bed rest with restroom privileges only. This was to keep me from over-exerting myself in any way that could cause undue pressure on the vessel. It did not help that the entire time Jace was head-down, with his head sitting “right on top of the vessel.” There were days my doctor stressed over whether we should deliver because it seemed he could cause his own demise. There was the constant desire to keep him in the oven as long as possible, but at the same time trying to make sure he came out alive.

Every Monday morning between 6-7AM I had a vaginal exam to determine how things were progressing with my cervix and to monitor Jace’s positioning on the vessel (it was because of that I had two exams per week for about a month). Because of the vessel, no speculum could be used, but the transvaginal ultrasound with color Doppler was used along with the good old finger exam. There are no words to describe the utter fear that would rush through me every time I had to have an exam. I was petrified each and every time that the blood vessel would rupture in our efforts to be proactive. I would tense up so tightly that the exams were extremely painful and I would, within seconds, go from talking and laughing with the doctor and ultrasound tech to both my eyes filling with tears, simply because I was scared. I have never known fear like that. I had never been in a real life/death situation; and this one played out second by second, minute by minute, hour by hour, day after day, month after month…with fear in tow. I am a Christian, with a very personal relationship with God…so I did all that any bible thumper would tell me to do…cast my cares on him, not to worry, be anxious for nothing, etc. But I also know that our expectations are often different from the plan of the Divine. I realized that the outcome could go either way. It all depended on what was written in the book of life for me before my life ever began. There was no way I could know which experience God would so ordain for me; to lose the baby he created inside of me, or to leave the hospital with my son in my arms. So I did not fear the vessel as much as I feared not knowing God’s plan. Thankfully, in the end, Jace was born safe and sound and eventually I did walk out of those sliding doors with him at my side.

So, fast forward to today…the panic attack…the sense memory manifesting in my body. It was the fear of that entire ordeal revisiting me. It may sound strange, but I felt as if that vessel was sitting right where it was in March, ready to explode. My body assumed the position it had held for so many weeks; one of tension and anxiety, as I prepared to experience another “exam” today. I thought about being a no-show, but I needed to get the new prescription for my prenatal vitamins since I am still breastfeeding. I had no choice. The dread and panic stayed with me the entire time. Throughout the entire exam my body felt the same as it did lying on that bed in the hospital all those times we had to do our weekly “check in.” Interestingly, even as I type, I feel as though it is still there...lurking.

It was quite a revelation to see how trauma really works. When you are in a crisis situation, you do what you have to do to survive it. While you focus on the matter at hand at times, you don’t focus on what it is actually doing to you in your inner being. In fact, I don’t think that’s something we can know because we have not yet completed the experience, nor have we had time to assimilate to a different experience afterward to be able to begin putting it in context. Experiences shape us; it’s just what they do. I don’t believe any experience is exempt. Every experience has some effect, whether we ever know that effect or not. Once a trauma has passed, we usually try to “get over it.” At least that’s what most people tell us to do. And so we get over it. But one way to see what that experience has done to us in the innermost crevices of our being is to come face to face with a similar experience again. Sense memory kicks in and if we are able to move into a position of “participant observer” we can begin objectively assessing the damage. That’s what happened to me today. Since having Jace I rarely speak of my experience in the hospital. In many ways it’s like it never happened. I mean life kicked in, I had a new baby, a new life, and all of my attention was demanded in each and every day, so I could not appropriate thoughts to the past in any significant way. But today was another story. It was but a moment in time; but it was a moment monumental enough for me to see the state of my inside self. My heart has raced at times I have typed this post. The panic came back; it went; it came back again, because no matter how much "getting over it" I do, that experience affected me in ways yet to be seen or known.

I witnessed enough today to know that the trauma of that experience was/is real. And God is gracious enough to be holding it at bay so that I can attend to the beautiful son he blessed me with, and so that my healing can take place slowly and surely. What I believe God did today was allow me to see the work He is doing on my behalf. He is literally holding back panic and anxiety on a daily basis, so that I can be free. It’s nothing less than His love for Jace and me. Today was a reminder that God wants the best for us, and that He is always on our side working to give us just that. It took my mind to the scripture "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness (2 Corinthian 12:9).” Today was certainly a weak moment, yet His power was perfectly sweet and gentle and strong. I got through the appointment. I got what I needed for Jace. And I got a revelation that will last me a lifetime. How’s that for staring trauma in the face?

Today’s Mommy-Noteable Moment:  I awakened this morning with Jace’s legs intertwined in mine. After untangling us, I attempted to roll over to grab my cell phone in order to check the time. I couldn’t budge. I turned on the light so that I could see what was going on. That's when I noticed that one of his arms was under my top and the other was lying on top of part of it. I just stared at us for a moment and smiled. I thought to myself, “you won’t be this small always; you won’t want to be this close to me always; and this exact moment will never happen again.” It was sacred. And I am thankful that on this day, you and I were tangled.