It was a dark and stormy night

That is one thing I will never forget about the night/early morning Leah was born. They always say that storms bring in all the pregnant ladies, and the birth center at our local hospital was full that night. We went in about 10pm and after I was up in the room, John went down to get the bag and he was wet with big, fat raindrops. Even the Dr. commented about the weather once he was called in. I guess that should've been some foreshadowing as to what was about to come.

There were no indications during my pregnancy that anything was "wrong" with the baby. It was very similar to my pregnancy with Emma; so much so that I knew it was another girl. Even in the middle of a hot, humid Iowa summer I had little to no swelling, always measured on track, and went right up and over 40 weeks. I had seen my Dr. on Monday, he called to check on me on Tuesday (because that was his day off--he was taking his boys swimming), and set up an appointment for Thursday morning to do a non-stress test and see if we needed to get things moving. Well just like with Emma, I went into labor on Wednesday afternoon and was off to the hospital later that evening.

Being a smaller local hospital, there is no anesthesiologist on staff at all times so epidurals are rarely done for deliveries. I was no too happy about my options for pain management, because I do not like pain. And pain does not like me. So this second labor and delivery may have been shorter, but I felt a whole lot more. My water didn't break until the Dr. broke it while I was pushing, and once it broke I went down a few centimeters and had to wait to get back to 10 to push again. Not fun. I remember delivering her shoulders and then hearing them say "It's a girl" (no duh, I knew that). I was too exhausted to even register that she wasn't crying. I remember the Dr. trying to stimulate her and saying things like "C'mon, Sweetheart". The nurse had asked if I wanted her on my chest, but before I could even answer they had to take her to the incubator to start bagging her. She didn't stay in too long in the room; soon she was out in the nursery area to be intubated and put on the ventilator.

At that point all I could think was "I don't want to do that again." What else can you think? You aren't prepared for things to go differently when the first time had been so by-the-book. The Dr. came back in and you could tell it was difficult for him to deliver the news--"Her lungs are underdeveloped, but we don't know why." After a few x-rays he came back and told us it was Congenital Cystic Adenomatoid Malformation (CCAM). Okay, get us all the information you know on that. We made the first few phone calls, telling our parents what little information we knew. After giving us some information on CCAM, he came back and said what we were really dealing with was Congenital Diaphragmatic Hernia (CDH). Never heard of that before. More phone calls. Where you do want to send her? Our choices were Des Moines and Omaha--both about the same distance from where we lived, but we had family in Omaha. Send her to Omaha. God was guiding our decision; we knew nothing about CDH and importance of having ECMO available. Children's in Omaha had recently gotten an ECMO machine. Des Moines had none. What is her name? I didn't want her sent away known only as Baby M. Leah Claire.

By this early hour in the morning, it was still dark and stormy out. The LifeFlight pilot couldn't fly in the bad weather, so they had to send a ground ambulance. We didn't know that some of these children are so fragile and critical that they can barely be transported across a hall, let alone sent 2 hours away by ground ambulance. Ignorance is bliss and we never thought anything of it. Later when we talked to the neonatologist who took the initial call, he had wanted her there as quickly as possible; he wasn't too comfortable with the idea of the ambulance but there wasn't anything we could do about it. The helicopter was still on standby even once the ambulance got there, but it still couldn't fly. We sent her off around 9am. I wouldn't see her again until 7 or 8pm the next night.

When you are in a full birthing center with no baby, the nurses don't pay too much attention to you. Thankfully my sister-in-law who is a nurse and had just gone through having a baby in the NICU spent the first night with me. We watched movies, she got me hot packs and helped get me set up for pumping. John and his Dad headed for Omaha to be with Leah that first night.

Our Dr. who delivered Leah was a family practice doctor. When families who know about their child's CDH before delivery go to give birth, they are in a hospital with a Level 3 NICU. They deliver in a room filled with medical personnel--high risk OB's, multiple neonatologists, respiratory therapists, NICU nurses, and a variety of other support staff who are needed to stabilize these critical patients. All we had was a Dr. and a nurse. Again, God's hands were there to guide the way as the doctor recognized her needs and quickly got oxygen to her. He later told us he had just lobbied the hospital to get an infant ventilator--Miss Leah was one of the first to take advantage of that. The Dr. also said Leah made his top 10 list of most memorable births. I would think so.

Even though I can remember so vividly all those details of August 11, 2005, it seems so long ago. Now we have a 4 year old on our hands. She is potty trained and ready to go off to preschool this fall. She rides a bike and likes to play soccer with her big sister in the front yard. She is starting to read and has the memory of an elephant. Her smile will melt your heart and I can't help but call her Cutie Pie a dozen times a day. The Dr. who delivered her said she is here for a very special reason. We have been reminded of that everyday the past 4 years when we think of how she came into the world. We love you, Leah Claire.