In January 2001, my husband, John, and I were both evaluated by a fertility specialist who determined that I was lacking in the proper balance of hormones needed to ovulate and sustain pregnancy. The physician advised us that our only hope of conceiving a child was through hormone therapy. Neither this doctor, the CF specialists, the high risk obstetricians nor we were keen on this option because we unsure of what pregnancy would do to my body. John and I believed that God had a plan and that perhaps my body was not fertile because it could not handle the ramifications of fertility. We considered it unwise to force the issue, believing that if my body could sustain a pregnancy and still maintain my health, God would allow me to conceive. I also began menstruating regularly for the first time I could ever remember. I cycled regularly for six months and then became irregular again. I was also treated for H. pylori, because I had been diagnosed with an ulcer and recurrent gut maladies. My health had fluctuated quite a bit during the spring so I went in for a tune-up at the end of May. My insurance was to end soon because my husband had decided to leave his full-time teaching position to begin work on his Ph.D. In July, I attended a women�s retreat for which my grandmother had gathered all the adult women in the family. I confessed to them that John and I had been trying to get pregnant for exactly a year and that I had been diagnosed as infertile. I was very sad and requested that they pray that God would either allow us to get pregnant or give us the grace and strength to accept infertility. I started my period the next day and grieved over yet another non-pregnant month. Soon I developed a sinus infection that required treatment. My ENT ordered a CT scan, which meant I needed to do a pregnancy test beforehand just to ensure that performing the scan would be safe. We had endured the disappointment of so many negative pregnancy tests that I didn�t even bother to wake John that Saturday morning. I went back to bed myself while waiting for the results. When I read the test, I was surprised not to recognize the result. The box interpreted for me. PREGNANT. PREGNANT! I immediately woke the �daddy-to-be� to tell him the good news. He was overjoyed, awed, shocked, frightened all at the same time. A second test the next morning communicated the same miraculous truth. I cancelled the CT scan and, instead made an appointment to have blood drawn to confirm the pregnancy. I needed to be absolutely sure. When my social worker called me with the results she said, �OK, Holly, your test was positive. You are pregnant. Now you need to come in and fill out some forms for insurance�.� Her voice faded into the background as my attention turned to my husband dancing around the living room after I gave him the thumbs up. He was dancing! My over-serious, inhibited husband danced for joy just as King David had before the Lord. THE PREGNANCY After filling out the paperwork, I was approved for Medicaid and WIC. Next I scheduled an appointment with a family practitioner. I weighed about 10 lbs under my ideal weight. That sinus infection that had initiated my taking the pregnancy test miraculously cleared up and I experienced no morning sickness except when I took my prenatal vitamin, so I stopped taking it and focused on eating as many calories from a balanced diet, high in protein. I began sleeping much more�sometimes more than 15 hours a day � and spent every waking moment eating in order to take in all the necessary calories. Prilosec, which I took for my gastroesophageal reflux (GERD) was substituted with Carafate for safety during the first half of pregnancy and I discontinued my antidepressant, anti-anxiety and sleep medication permanently. When I was about 16 weeks along, the doctor ordered a glucose tolerance test (GTT). The results were abnormal, so a second, more thorough, GTT was performed. This results were normal this time, but the physician still chose to transfer me out of family practice to the High Risk clinic. Though this was a well-regarded teaching facility, I was treated as simply an appointment time and measurements to be charted. When my alpha fetal protein (AFP) blood test came back with abnormal results and the ultrasound showed a fetus small for gestational age, I was told that my baby, a girl, almost certainly had Down Syndrome, Intra-Uterine Growth Retardation (IUGR) and possibly other problems as well. I was counseled to consider terminating the pregnancy. My heart sank even as my mind raged. My precious gift from God. The child I was told all my life that I could not have. I would give her up for no man! The Lord granted me peace in my spirit and I was not worried about the baby. These medical professionals were obviously not going to help us fight so we went home to begin searching for ways to find supportive care-providers. |
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| Being on Medicaid, the only way we could change providers was to move to a different area. God opened the door when my father graciously invited us to move in with him. He was happy to have us and living there would allow me to be seen by the High-Risk OBs at the hospital where my CF clinic was located. The team there had provided such excellent care for me for so many years that I was sure that the obstetricians would be sensitive to my unique situation. However, my CF team had little to offer in terms of research findings, current statistics and approaches for pregnancy. I was the first woman in their practice to become pregnant and they didn't seem prepared for the situation. I had been working three days in a row, each lasting 10 to 12 hours without taking a break, since the start of the fall semester in mid-August, just after learning I was pregnant. After dealing with a couple of illnesses I�d caught from students, we determined that it would be best for me to not return to work after the Christmas break so I could focus on building my body up for the last trimester and the birth. I hadn�t gained much weight, if any, but I was beginning to get a little bubble out front and was thrilled. |
| During the latter half of January, I went to get my port flushed and was surprised with an anaphylactic reaction. I was rushed to the ER where they immediately administered epinephrine and Benadryl to counteract the reaction. While sitting in the ER under observation, I began experiencing strong, regular contractions. I was then transferred to Labor & Delivery (L&D) where I was assigned a bed in a holding area containing about
16 beds separated only by curtains and monitored by a single nurse at the desk in one corner. As I lay on my back strapped to a monitor, with an IV drip flowing, we wondered silently what would happen if my contractions produced labor and our daughter was born so soon. Would she survive? Would we have to leave her in the neonatal intensive care unit (NICU) and go home without her? |
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| Are not five sparrows sold for two copper coins? And not one of them is forgotten before God. But the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Do not fear therefore; you are of more value than the sparrows. And He said to His disciples, "Therefore I say to you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat; nor about the body, what you will put on. And do not seek what you should eat or what you should drink, nor have an anxious mind. For all these things the nations of the world seek after, and you Father knows that you need these things. But seek the kingdom of God, and all these things shall be added to you. Luke 12:6-7, 22, 29-31 |