Birth Story- Eli the Wildman

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Eli the Wildman turns 4 this weekend. His birth story, if I had to rank them, would be my favorite. It’s not my fave because he was the easiest, or fastest. Oh no. He was my biggest, by over a pound, and he got stuck! I don’t know- it was just memorable from start to finish. I found out I was expecting him when James and I were on our first getaway in 10 years, in St. Thomas. We were about the board the plane and I felt sick to my stomach. I wasn’t even 4 weeks pregnant at the time. Yeah. The morning sickness started at 3.5 weeks with Eli! I had hyperemesis gravidarum with him, and it is impossible to adequately describe what that feels like. If you’ve been through it, you get it. It’s a 24/7 experience- and nothing helps. I had a 2-week reprieve and it felt like a miracle to me. We went to Savannah in the summer of 2014 and I got to enjoy my family and the coast. Upon returning home, the 24/7 sickness returned. There wasn’t one day that I didn’t throw up for the rest of the pregnancy. I remember praying and worrying that he would be small and sickly, because I couldn’t eat well or hold down vitamins. By the end, I was consuming maybe 500 calories a day? And that consisted of sipping Gatorade and half of a banana. My legs and arms were thin, but oh boy, did my belly grow!
I was the biggest I had ever been during a pregnancy, and the weight kept climbing on the scale. It defied science or reason- I ate less and less and got bigger and bigger. Oh Eli, you were Superman from the get-go! He kicked harder than any of the other babies, and I thought of him as a fighter. I was suffering, but he was fighting to thrive. I was sitting in church on Palm Sunday that year, and they read the Passion Gospel. The priest got to the part about when Jesus was crying out from the cross, and the bystanders thought he was calling out to Elijah. It hit me then- that was his name. Elijah the prophet was a tough guy! He was brave and a fighter. My Eli picked his name that day, and it stuck.

group pre eli
The labor and delivery of my fourth child lasted 30 minutes, start to finish. It was kind of like being struck by lightening- it was so powerful and fast! I planned early on with Eli to have a natural childbirth, because if it went quickly I didn’t want to even think about anesthesia or worry about getting it in time. I figured it was just best to count on not having time, and plan accordingly! A week before he was born, I got sick of our carpet upstairs in the kids’ bedrooms, so sick of it that it just HAD to get torn up RIGHT THEN. We HAD to have wood floors because the carpet was FILTHY. In fairness, it did have stains on it from a really bad bout with a stomach bug. I had scrubbed on my hands and knees one too many times and at 9 months pregnant, those brown, shag carpets were toast.
The flooring was finished at 6 pm on a Friday, and Monday morning a cleaning crew came to vacuum all of the dust and debris left behind. We went to Classical Conversations and I brought my big yoga ball to sit on. I don’t actually use it for yoga, it served as a comfortable place to sit during the pregnancies. I’m sure I freaked out a few people that morning! My lower back ached, and I had a gut feeling he was coming that day. I calmly left the kids at CC and drove myself to the ob/gyn’s office. I spoke to a midwife and explained that I was feeling achey, and I thought he was coming that day. Bless that woman’s heart, she believed me and said “Ok Amy, come to the hospital when you are ready. We will admit you and let you have a room to stay in until he comes. There’s no rush.” I went back to my kids’ homeschool group and told them I was having the baby later- there were some cheers, and hugs and I left amid smiles and excitement.
I called James from the car on the way home with the kids, and told him that Eli was coming later that day. I think he said something along the lines of “Oh man, that’s not convenient, I just fixed the work schedule.” In my pregnancy/labor hormone blur I didn’t react well to that, and the rest of the conversation sounded like an exercise in how to NOT communicate with your spouse. When we cleared things up and he understood I wasn’t being induced, I didn’t pick Monday just to thwart his work schedule rotation and that we had a baby boy who wanted to meet us SOON, I was able to take a few deep breaths and spend a few hours with the kids at home. I wasn’t in labor- at all. It was just a feeling, all day. My mom was up here staying with us, and when James got home from work, the excitement was palpable. The kids were jumping around, knowing that something big was happening, but not quite understanding how much life was about to change.

james good
James and I went to the hospital like old pros. He had a trash bag full of my favorite pillows, and I carried a paper grocery bag with supplies for a post-birth meal that we had picked up at Publix. No kidding- we showed up with fried chicken for James. We must have looked like the Beverly Hillbillies to the nurses. I walked up to labor and delivery, and was shown to my room very calmly. We brought our groceries and pillows and linens, and made ourselves at home! I wasn’t having any contractions-none. The nurse came in to introduce herself and we chatted about how the midwife agreed to admit me for the evening, so I could get some sleep. The midwife had said she agreed that Eli would be along later that evening. The midwife came in as we were getting acquainted and said that they needed the room since the floor was filling up. I had to get Pitocin or have my water broken. Yeah, that wasn’t going to happen with a drug-free birth! Yikes, they are hard enough already without heaping more fuel onto the fire. I declined, but the midwife was insistent. She needed me to have that baby, asap. Well, I can be insistent too when the occasion calls for it. I told her I would be discharged before I would let anyone touch me. I was so sure that he was coming that night, I was willing to drive across the street and wait at the hotel.
I don’t think that anyone had ever said that before- or since. It sounded like a lot of work for everyone- paperwork, which I know people hate! I wasn’t going to give an inch. Childbirth is tough and I didn’t want anyone messing with me. My babies come fast, and when he decided it was the right time, he’d be there in a timely manner. There was no way I’d labor for 12 hours and I knew that. It was just a little tough to convince everyone else of my certainty! Usually I’m not that inflexible- must have been a little bit of Eli’s personality shining through. I wanted my little guy to choose when he got there- I had my heart set on that, and James was in total agreement. The nurse saw that I got a little upset, when I found out that I was on the “clock.” If I didn’t have progress by 10pm, I would be discharged. It was 9:30pm. The nurse suggested that I go for a short walk, and she would check on me later.
Sweet James held down the fort, with our chicken, fresh fruit, tunes, and pillows! Baha. I went for a walk around L&D. I walked to the window of the nursery where you can see the babies. I prayed. I blocked everything else out, and I spoke from the heart. I told God that I had said that I was ready before, but that I knew I hadn’t been. NOW, in that moment, I was ready. I said “Please Lord, I’m ready now. You can send him.” I walked right back to the room, and sat down on my big, bouncy yoga ball. I rested my head on my chest and felt the first contraction. That was it. The midwife came to kick me out, and James held up his hand to silence the incomers. It was 9:45pm. He told them the contractions were 2-3 minutes apart. I made it under the gun, by 15 minutes. Eli was born around 11pm, I think? You know it all gets blurry there at the end! He came before midnight, on October 6th, just like I said he would. I think I could write 10,000 words on each child’s birth. Eli’s is especially bright in my memory, I’m not sure why. Maybe it’s because I was so prayerful and aware of time that evening? Each minute seems like a freeze frame in my mind when I think back. The moment he was born, the entire room yelled “WHOA!!!!!” in unison. Then I heard, “how big was your biggest baby?!” I told them, and the midwife said “HE’S GOING TO BE THE BIGGEST!!!”. Oh my gosh. I lost track of reality and time after he made an entrance. At that point, I made eye contact with someone in scrubs and demanded pain medication, asap. Laughing as I remember that. Natural birth, medicated recovery!

eli neborn
I felt like I had given birth to a baby elephant. I vaguely heard James screaming excitedly “Amy…learned about this in med school…Mighty Mouse…muscles…protein…disorder…he’s got huge biceps…”. Ok, it’s all really blurry after the meds were delivered! Eli was my biggest baby, by over a pound. He was 9 lbs 7 oz, and he was a week early. His head was in the 99%, and the hardest part of delivery was the fact that he was short! Plenty of babies are heavy, but he was heavy and only like 18.5 inches? At most? So he was a giant ball of muscle with fluffy blonde hair. Oh Eli. He was an exquisitely beautiful newborn, because he looked like a round 3 month old boy. He didn’t end up having that Mighty Mouse disorder thing, but they did run a couple of extra tests. I had been SO sick, so thin, and he was a He-man mini-beast. He looked like a wee body builder.
That night, there aren’t any pictures of me after I delivered my behemoth of a son. There are pictures of him! I was exhausted, and happy. And I have never felt that connected to my body, God and another human being before. I have prayed thousands and thousands of hours over my life, and that is the only time that I could sense an answer immediately. My timing actually matched God’s timing! Realistically, I’m running late or too early for some request or guidance. That night, October 6, 2014, I was 100% certain that my prayer would be answered at the moment that I asked. Eli and I were ready to meet each other, and never once did James flinch when I told him of my certainty. That night, he knew too. Eli- it had to be you, wonderful, beautiful you!

Keeping the faith

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The “before” picture. After Lana was born, we had professional pictures taken. I had no intention of being in them, but she wouldn’t stop crying so the photog told me to jump in. I’m SO glad that I did! Hence the ponytail:)

I was contacted recently by a journalist in New York City. She asked if she could interview me for a story on pudendal neuralgia. I knew that would mean opening old wounds, bearing my soul for the general public, and going over humiliation after humiliation for anyone to stumble on. I have been brought so low, so many times, I’m almost immune to it now- almost. I’ve discussed my private parts a hundred times- at least, suffered treatments that were as painful as the injury it self, been shamed for taking medication as directed, and told there was no “cure” for my neuropathy. Through it all, my sweet James stood by my side, and my parents worked so hard to keep our household from falling apart.

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The morning of my surgery. Blissfully ignorant. Low risk, thought I would wake up in about an hour, good to go.

I agreed to the interview, knowing that everything that I said wouldn’t make it into print, gory details are the most interesting to read, and that it would definitely be one more humiliation to add to my long list. Truth is, I wanted to share because ever since the beginning, I kept saying to myself “if I ever feel well enough, I want to be a patient advocate. I want to help other people.” Not everyone has a James, and not everyone has parents, a sister, friends, neighbors, and a church family like I do. This experience would have ended very differently had I been alone. There was a woman in a support group that I joined for a while, who killed herself earlier last year. Her story isn’t that unusual unfortunately. Chronic pain is isolating. I know several people whose marriages dissolved because of health struggles. Friendships change and people feel so alone. I am so incredibly fortunate to have the world’s best friends. I don’t see them as often, but they have visited me here at home and while I was in the hospital. I have had meals delivered for a year and a half (not every night of course, but regularly).

I felt like it was my responsibility to share some, so that someone reading the article, wouldn’t feel so alone. Maybe, one medical student would randomly see the article and think, “hmm… maybe I should look into pain management, and chronic pelvic pain.” It’s poorly understood and studied- there are plenty of opportunities to find patients I can assure you!  Every person with PN doesn’t have all of the same symptoms. Some of the symptoms described in the article apply to me, and some do not.

I could write for days about the spiritual journey that this has been. I will write about faith regularly. It is part of my daily life, my stream of consciousness, my conversations throughout the day, and my decision making process. At the beginning, everything felt like a bad dream. Surely, this isn’t for real? I will wake up? This horror will pass? I actually thought- I have had my “quota” of suffering for the year. You see, before my surgery, I had a difficult pregnancy. I suffered from hyperemesis gravidarum, and migraines that were so severe, I was treated by a neurologist the entire time, and hospitalized a few times. I was bedridden from the nausea and headache pain- it was blinding. I thought, I have suffered so much lately! That is ENOUGH, and this new fresh h-e-l-l has to pass, soon, right? My thoughts also were along the lines of “I’m a ‘good’ person, not an ax murderer, I have 6 kids to take care of, I’m young, this can’t be real. I have to get better! This sort of thing can’t just ruin my life- I don’t believe it.”

Oh Amy. I knew the folly of my train of thought, but I couldn’t stop the freight train of anger and justifying my conclusions to God. He had to be wrong, it had to be a mistake. If I prayed the “right” way, said the right things, the pain would pass, and I could have my old life back! Wrong, wrong, wrong. Through MUCH prayer- I mean constant, soul searching, scripture searching, and just plain crying…I knew deep down that our Lord isn’t a magic genie in a bottle. You don’t say the right words and He grants you your wish. It doesn’t matter how nice you are, or how many kids you have, no one is immune to suffering. To think for one second that anyone has quota that can be met…is ridiculous, and complete arrogance on my part. Suffering doesn’t only happen to the “bad” guys. There are so many people around the world who know pain, what made me so special that I should be immune?

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This was taken before one of the several procedures in Michigan, where I lived for a month. I tried a new type of neuromodulator that ultimately failed. I was forcing a smile, because we were sending the picture to my kids. I didn’t want them to know how scared I was.

God never guaranteed anyone an easy life. HE is enough, that’s sort of the whole point. I can read that over and over, but unless I have lived it- everything else is gone, and all I’m left with is faith, I didn’t internalize it. This suffering, even in the extreme, is temporary. There were so many times that I didn’t pray to live, I prayed that the Lord would let me come home sooner- right then. I couldn’t see around the pain in the moment, couldn’t think five minutes in advance. I begged him to let me go. He, obviously, said “no my child, you are stronger than you think, hang in there.” I know what a dark valley is- one with no light, no directions, just the knowledge that I am supposed to trust. I am supposed to put one foot in front of the other and keep going in the dark. If I do that, trust blindly, I will see more clearly than I ever have before in my life- but not on my time, on His.

I’m not going to link to the article- it’s live, and being well read! I’d rather my kids not read some of those vocab words just yet:)

My grace is sufficient for you (2 Corinthians 12:9)