Alyssa Quilala - Mending Tomorrow: Choosing Hope, Finding Wholeness

Epilogue

USE YOUR MOMENT WELL

When I felt a contraction on the morning of September 16, 2015, I notice that it was pretty strong, but dismissed it as soon as it had subsided. Being thirty-three weeks (seven-and-a-half months) pregnant with our fourth child, a little girl, I had already begun to experience practice contractions and other early labor signs. Just two weeks earlier, in fact, I had gone to the ER to double-check whether the contractions I was experiencing were cause for concern. The doctor had assured me they were perfectly normal. If the contractions became stronger and more consistent, he said, I was to rest and drink lots of water until they calmed down.

I fed and dressed Ella and Aria, loaded them into double stroller, and made the two-block walk to drop off Ella at her kindergarten classroom. On the way home, I felt several more contractions. As soon as I reached the house, I poured myself a huge glass of water and snuggled up with Aria on the couch, trusting that would do the trick.

Two hours later, however, the contractions were still coming with the same intensity three to five minutes apart, and I was starting to worry. I had never had painful contractions like this so early in a pregnancy. Telling myself not to panic, I decided the best plan was stay on the couchall day, if necessaryand do nothing that might aggravate the contractions further. I texted my husband, explained the situation, and asked him to come home

When I felt a contraction on the morning of September 16, 2015, I notice that it was pretty strong, but dismissed it as soon as it had subsided. Being thirty-three weeks (seven-and-a-half months) pregnant with our fourth child, a little girl, I had already begun to experience practice contractions and other early labor signs. Just two weeks earlier, in fact, I had gone to the ER to double-check whether the contractions I was experiencing were cause for concern. The doctor had assured me they were perfectly normal. If the contractions became stronger and more consistent, he said, I was to rest and drink lots of water until they calmed down.

I fed and dressed Ella and Aria, loaded them into double stroller, and made the two-block walk to drop off Ella at her kindergarten classroom. On the way home, I felt several more contractions. As soon as I reached the house, I poured myself a huge glass of water and snuggled up with Aria on the couch, trusting that would do the trick.

Two hours later, however, the contractions were still coming with the same intensity three to five minutes apart, and I was starting to worry. I had never had painful contractions like this so early in a pregnancy. Telling myself not to panic, I decided the best plan was stay on the couchall day, if necessaryand do nothing that might aggravate the contractions further. I texted my husband, explained the situation, and asked him to come home from work, as I wouldnt be able to get anything done around the house.

Chris took care of the girls and played housewife for me while I lay on the couch. As the day wore on with no changes in the contractions, we began saying prayers together for the peace and safety of our child. Then, around 10 p.m., the contractions became even more painful, and I finally admitted that we should probably go to the hospital. I had been putting it off all dayI just didnt want to go back again and be told everything was completely fine.

As Chris and I began packing things up to head to the ER, I suddenly realized something. Just nine months before this, I had been exactly thirty-weeks pregnant with Jet. During that very week, he had died in my womb.

In an instant, paralyzing fear swept through my body. I crumpled to the floor, crying inconsolably and shaking with anxiety. Chris rushed to hold me, quietly repeating that our baby was going to be fine and praying for Gods peace to come. Gradually, I managed to calm down, join him in prayer, and allow Gods peace to settle in my heart. Pulling myself together, I got up and finished getting ready to head to the ER.

Throughout the forty-minute drive to the hospital, I struggled to take deep breaths and remain composed. I just couldnt help having flashbacks of that same drive nine months before. The terrible words kept echoing through my mind and causing my chest to constrict: Your son has no heartbeat.

As we arrived at the hospital and made our way to the Labor and Delivery ward, I braced myself to hear those same words said about my daughter. But when I lay back and the nurse strapped a heartbeat monitor to my belly, the strong, steady thumping of our baby girls heart came through loud and clear. Tears of joy spilled over and I breathed an enormous sigh of relief.

Suddenly, I heard the doctor examining me saying, Her feet are coming out. Your baby is in a standing breech position. We need to perform an emergency C-section!

My mind was reeling. What? Im only seven months pregnant! Sure, Ive been having contractions, but not anything close to hard labor. How could it be that she is almost out?

Utterly confused, I asked the doctor why he wanted to perform a C-Section when this had been my easiest labor yet. He briefly explained that since our baby was so tiny, she was at risk for decapitation if delivered in a breech position. Obviously, that was all he needed to say. I begged him to hurry up and get her out!

It took fifteen minutes for the hospital staff to wheel me into an operating room, strap me down, anesthetize my abdomen, and begin to perform the C-section. As I watched and waited, the only thing I could think about was what it would be like to hear my baby girls first cry. I had been dreaming of hearing that cry throughout the entire pregnancy. The silence in the room after my final push in laboring for Jet had hurt in ways I cant describe. Silently, I prayed to God that I would have that moment again, that I would hear our little girl belting out her first cry with strength and passion.

As the seconds ticked by, I lay frozen, clutching Chriss hand and listening with everything in me for my daughters voice. I craved it like oxygen. The next voice I heard, however, was the doctors. Shes out! The NICU staff is going to take her and stabilize her.

As one of the NICU doctors left the room cradling a bundle, I turned to Chris and urged, Go, go, go! Go be with her! Without a word, he hurried after the doctor, leaving me strapped to the table as the doctors finished stitching me up. I lay there, feeling the pain of silence once again and wondering what it meant. Why hadnt she cried?

Finally, after what seemed more than an hour, Chris and a NICU nurse came back to the operating room holding our perfect baby girl. Her eyes were open, and right away she stared up into my eyes without making a sound.

Why isnt she crying? I frantically asked the nurse.

Shes absolutely fine! the nurse reassured me. Shes just content.

Relaxing at last, I gazed back into the eyes of a promiseGods promise to protect our daughter.

We named her Liv Mercedes Quilala. Liv means life in Norwegian, alive, full of life in Icelandic, My God is a vow in Hebrew, and protection in Norse.

Liv was four pounds, two ounces at birth. The doctors told us she would likely need to stay in the NICU for seven weeks before she would be ready to go home. This was devastating news, because it meant leaving my baby at the hospital every eveningthe hospital didnt allow parents to stay overnight. It was heartbreaking to go home without her and wrestle with fear for her survival. Each night, I lay awake in bed, staring at her empty bassinet beside my bed, praying and reminding myself yet again that God had promised to protect our baby girl.

Soon, however, joy and hope began to replace my fears as I watched my precious Liv making tremendous leaps in her development. At three days old, she stopped having Bradys (bradycardia)episodes where her heart rate fell below 80 beats per minute. Most preemies can have these episodes for weeks after delivery. Her breathing tubes were removed only twenty-four hours after she was born. And after just two weeks of practicing with her every day, Liv learned how to breastfeed exclusively, which meant she had no need for a feeding tube!