Let's pick up where we left off...The birth of Alara. In the time between having Sky and Alara, we discovered the reason for having to take Sky cesarean: I have a split uterus and two cervixes. This was revealed by my new doctor, who would deliver both of our girls and whom I still see to this day. How my previous doctor didn't know this is really alarming.
Fast forward to our sudden delivery, we found ourselves in the middle of chaos. Family, who had been on vacation, rushed home to help us with Skyler. Family called off work to help with Skyler. Friends dropped everything to help with Skyler. And, to walk with us through one of the most difficult parts of our journey.
While in the womb, the umbilical cord managed to get itself wrapped around Alara's neck 3 TIMES! My doctor literally hopped on the operating table to push her back into my uterus in order to "unwrap" her. They let me kiss her sweet head, then was immediately rushed into PICU, placed in an incubator and put on a vent. She had low oxygen levels and stunted growth. Her life was in the balance. Meanwhile, Jon was walking the tight rope of anxiously awaiting the outcome of our little girl, watching his wife being sewn up and put back together and wondering what kind of state our helpers were in with Sky Man. We had to wait hours only to finally see her through a glass wall fighting for her life inside a little glass box.
Again, my expectations were stolen from me.
We had lived through the hell having a child diagnosed with a lifelong disability. But this, this I wasn't prepared for. Alara went from bad to worse. She needed to be taken to Children's hospital by ambulance. So, there I was, freshly stitched up, pumping my breast milk to be administered by tube into my daughter's weak body, and I hadn't even gotten a chance to hold her yet. Jon, poor Jon, for hours on end he was juggling sitters. Most of the time, we had Sky with us, or he had him at home because he couldn't be at the hospital. I spent a lot of time alone, well, not entirely. God held me, even if only by the thread of His garment. There is a reason I have no pictures from Alara's birth. We were in crisis mode.
Now, Alara was being separated from me. My doctor saw our dire situation and released me early from the hospital. Bless him! Jon and I had to wait to head to Children's, and so we found ourselves sitting in an Arby's staring at our roast beef sandwiches through tears and exhaustion. Mind you, Sky still did not sleep through the night during this time.
We were set up at the Ronald McDonald house. What a surreal moment. Never did we think we would be that family. Yet, here we were again, humbled and carried only by grace. Only Jon and I were able to be present with Alara in PICU. I vividly remember sitting in a room full of privacy stalls designed for desperate mothers to pump their breastmilk. It was the only form of healing we knew how to deliver to our babies. We did it, over and over. It was a cacophony of breast pumps spewing out a symphony of hope.
The next moment I'd find myself on the bathroom floor sobbing out in desperation to God to save my baby girl.
It was real, it was brutal and it grew us.
Then, as suddenly as it all began, Alara took a turn for the better. She started to take her milk in a bottle, she no longer needed the vent, and I got to hold her every day. Exactly a week from the day I delivered her, she went home. It was a week from hell that seemed like months. We were grateful and our hearts went out to all of those parents who left PICU holding each other instead of their babies.
Little did we know the real work was about to begin: Sky had a brand-new sister.
My prayer is that you hold your little ones a little tighter, adore your spouse a little more and appreciate those around you because those are the true gifts in life.
Until next time... Live without Limits.