Lincoln's Story

Lincoln James

Welcome to the world, baby boy! We are SO glad you're here! You have taught us so much already and I know that you will be a beautiful light to many, many lives, including mine.

LOTS more pictures at the bottom! :)

I want to document Lincoln's story because of how much I have learned from it, but let me begin with this:

I've had several friends and acquaintances who think that believing in God, or anything spiritual, is something for the weak. There are some who think it's just something that makes people feel better, or gives them hope, or gives them a sort of scapegoat to put things they don't understand on. That's not what this is about. That's not what my faith is about. Let me be clear that at times my faith DOES make me "feel" better (in that I have a peace that transcends understanding), it definitely gives me hope (there's a lot to be bummed and discouraged about in the world), and it does make me ok that I don't understand certain things (which, if you know me, is pretty miraculous considering I did a science experiment in 3rd grade testing the life of batteries because I didn't believe Duracell and Energizer's claims, and I just thoroughly researched and tested the range of my baby monitors I just bought because I also don't believe their claims, I'm pretty skeptical in general)... however, it's so much more than that. It's TRUTH. As in, this is what I KNOW to the depths of my soul to be true, whether I'm "feeling" happy or miserable, whether life seems full of good stuff that we often call blessings or really crappy situations that you wish would never happen to anyone, and whether I understand what's going on or not: 

There is a God. Specifically, the God of the Bible. He is Good.

Yep, that's the theme of the last few months. God is good. With that said, our last few months have had some crazy, crappy (sons, if you're reading this, don't use that word until you're older), statistically very improbable things happen. And through every.single.moment of it I honestly believed knew in the depths of my mind, heart, and soul that God is good. That's not because I am that committed to some made-up farce, or totally sold out to some way of making myself feel better (because it really didn't make me feel better at all many times)... it's just because it's TRUTH and I'm sure of it more than I'm sure of anything else.

That's really the only important part of this post, so if you want to stop reading, thanks for stopping by! If you want to keep reading, here's the short version:

My husband got hit by a truck; I developed a syndrome that affects <0.2% of pregnancies and can be really scary so had to be induced at 36 weeks; induction took 48 hours, 40 of which were filled with contractions; they punctured my dural sac during an epidural which I ended up getting, unknowingly, at 10cm because labor was progressing SO slowly until the very end, I had a cerebral spinal fluid leak (happens in ~1% of epidurals) with the ridiculously intense, debilitating headache that goes with it; Lincoln's lungs weren't quite developed so he had to go in the nursery, have an IV of both sugar water and then antibiotics, we couldn't hold him the first ~3 days after, thankfully, having ~1 hr with him; the first blood patch (the fix for the spinal fluid leak) didn't work, had another two days later that did; Lincoln had to stay at the hospital for 8 days, most of which were after I was discharged and the hospital doesn't have courtesy rooms, so I had to go home without my baby and we had to drive 30-50 minutes home and back late each night and super early each morning again, without my baby... AND, most importantly... through all of that, without a doubt, I know and believe GOD IS GOOD, and that's seriously all that matters. We're all home now, and Lincoln is incredible, precious, and healthy! And I'd go through it all over again ten times if I had to because that's our story and it's where his story begins.

Let's rewind a few months and I'll share the full story for my own memory and for any of you that for whatever reason want the gory details:

We found out we were expecting a second baby in Monterey, California on our second-to-last leg (Washington state to Port Heuneme, CA) of our Year of Too Many Moves To Count. Yay! A few weeks in, I told Daniel that I felt like something was going to be harder about this pregnancy/baby than with our first. I didn't know what that meant or would look like, I just had a strong feeling. I asked Daniel to pray with me that God would either take whatever that difficulty was away, or that He would prepare us to deal with it. 

Fast forward now to 26 weeks (out of 40 - Daniel always makes me tell him in fraction form 26/40 because he forgets how many weeks a full-term pregnancy is) pregnant: I had been getting blood work done every few weeks because the day I went into labor (spontaneously) with Cooper, I came in with elevated blood pressure and labs that showed my liver enzymes were slightly high and platelets were slightly low, indications for something called HELLP syndrome. It's rare (~0.2% of pregnancies according to NIH), can be super scary, and is often a very serious form of pre-eclampsia/eclampsia; however, I didn't have any symptoms of pre-eclampsia and had a healthy pregnancy. The "cure" is delivery of the baby, and luckily I was already in labor, so we had the baby, the OB said I couldn't have had HELLP because of the great and uncomplicated labor and delivery I had (in which my blood pressures went down with no medication), and that was that! Anyways, this go around, they had been checking my lab work throughout pregnancy just to be cautious. Sure enough, at 26 weeks my liver enzymes doubled, but were still only borderline high. After a freak-out moment wondering what was going to happen and feeling scared because it was so early, at 28 weeks they had stayed about the same and I became convinced that all was well, it was a weird blip that confused the OBs, but started imagining my full-term, uncomplicated delivery of my healthy baby. I started reading all of my lovely natural birth story books and midwifery books and getting all pumped about how pregnancy and delivery is a totally natural process and how my body was going to rock this.

Then my husband got hit by a truck. Literally. On the highway, while he was cycling. He and two friends of his had been training for a century ride (100 miler) and they had been going out for super-early morning Saturday rides. There aren't many good options for cyclists on Oahu, so they were actually doing part of the route of the actual event, but it happened to be on a highway. The guy in the truck I guess was trying to cut a corner and turn off the highway in front of them, underestimating their speed, but ended up hitting all three of them. I got a call from one of the friend's wife (a friend of mine) saying Daniel and another guy were being taken in an ambulance to the hospital. Anyways, they all, amazingly, were ok in the big picture. Daniel had surgery on his shoulder, couldn't use his arm for ~6 weeks, and all 3 are going through physical therapy. There were two shoulder injuries, some pretty gnarly lacerations, a broken finger, and lots of stiffness, but it could have been SOOOO much worse. So, after another freak-out, I started having contractions a day later for several hours, dropped Cooper off at a wife of someone Daniel works with house (who I had never met, but turns out to be wonderful and is a great friend now), and went to the hospital to get checked out. They stopped after about a day and were almost positively because of stress.

After Daniel's surgery and recovery, he had to go back to the mainland for work on the east coast for 2 weeks. Right after he returned, I was 36 weeks pregnant, and had a healthy, "everything looks normal" appointment with my OB. I had blood drawn, just in case, and that was that. Two days later, we got the results back via a phone call from my OB saying that I needed to be induced that night because my liver enzymes had risen significantly. We were able to get my mom on a last-minute flight and she flew out to take care of Cooper (we delayed the induction until she got here). We are beyond grateful to you, mom!!! I went in for the induction Saturday evening. When we got there, somehow no one had told labor & delivery that I was coming, so there was some waiting for them to call in an extra nurse, find a room for me, etc. etc. Not a great start to something I was already NOT looking forward to. I felt like my body would know when the baby was ready to come out, so was NOT excited about giving him an eviction notice and kicking him out early. I was also really hoping for and imagining a drug-free, intervention-free labor and delivery, which I basically had with Cooper (they broke my water completely after it had been leaking to move things along when the blood results came back indicating HELLP with Cooper). However, HELLP can progress very quickly, and my liver enzymes from Tuesday to Friday had already more than doubled again, putting them more than 10 times normal values and making all the OBs sure that immediate induction was necessary. When I got a room and a wonderful nurse, and after 5 attempts to insert an IV (I have tiny veins), they inserted Cervidil, which releases prostaglandin and causes contractions, and is kind of the gentlest form of induction. I slept a little through the night, had a few contractions, and had steady 4-6 minute apart contractions the next morning, but they weren't super strong. Cervidil only stays in 12 hours, so when it came out and I still wasn't in labor, we had to move on to something stronger... pitocin. I was NOT excited at all about being on pitocin, since again I was hoping my body would do it's own thing (granted, if the timing was right, which it obviously wasn't here) and wasn't pumped about the idea of using synthetic oxytocin when my body, in theory, knew how much and when to make its own oxytocin. They also told me that since my platelets were trending downward (another symptom of HELLP, although mine were still only borderline), they wouldn't want to administer an epidural (which scared me again because everyone I've known who used pitocin got an epidural because they felt like the pitocin makes the contractions more intense). The midwife assured me that I "would only need a whiff of pitocin and [my] body would know what to do"... so, we started the pitocin and then waited. And upped the pitocin. Then waited. And upped the pitocin. And waited. Repeat, repeat, repeat. I was having *plenty* of contractions, every 2-4 minutes, but they just weren't doing their job... I wasn't dilating, so still wasn't "in labor". Finally the next night, they decided to take me off pitocin for 4 hours, let my body rest and let the receptors clear in case they were saturated from the pitocin. As soon as we stopped the pitocin, the contractions stopped, and I slept pretty well for those 4 hours. Early the next morning, we started the pitocin again, and I was feeling really discouraged. I was only about 3cm dilated (I came in at 1.5 and it had been over 24 hours of intervention and contractions at this point). I felt like we were doing the same thing, expecting different results. My new OB came in and encouraged me (I see a group of OBs/midwives so it's someone different each day), "stirred things up down there" as much as she could, and we were going to break my water in an hour. We stopped the pitocin (YAYYYY) and I kept contracting, but apparently not enough, because when she came back in, he was in a much higher position. I was 5cm, but she couldn't break my water because Lincoln's little hand was up above his head, putting him in an awkward position.  Another bummer, as that usually gets things going. So... more pitocin. And more waiting. Finally, though, the contractions started getting very intense and, after several hours of seriously being ELATED that I was finally in labor (the OB and nurses were all laughing at me because most women are angry when their contractions start getting extremely intense but I was so thrilled!) my OB came in and I got checked... only to be at 6cm! I was seriously bummed. I felt 15ish hours of contractions through Cooper's birth with no pain meds, and these definitely felt like the most intense of the contractions... how could I possibly have only progressed 1cm after several hours of 2-4 min contractions? So, the OB said we had to bump up the pitocin, again... and I just honestly could not raise that number even 1 mili unit/ hour without pain meds. My platelets had stayed pretty consistent the last two days in the hospital, so the nurse anesthetist ("...the best on our staff!") said she would go ahead and do an epidural. So, after 39 hours and 50 minutes of welcoming contractions into my body, envisioning my cervix opening and doing everything else every natural labor book told me to, I fought every single contraction I had for the next 10 minutes. I breathed angrily through them, tightened up my body, and only envisioned red. I noticed she told me that we had to try another spot after putting the needle into my back, but didn't think too much of it. Anyways, as soon as she removed the needle, they had me lay down and the next contraction I was like, "What the heck??? This epidural thing is AWFUL! This is the worst contraction yet... I can't do this lying down!" and the nurse anesthetist said, "Have you checked her? This isn't normal." so the nurse checked me and immediately ran out of the room saying "She's complete, baby's head is here, getting the OB!". So... as much of a supporter of natural labor as I am... there's some major parts of it that are just shenanigans. Seriously... ridiculous number of hours welcoming contractions to get from 1.5-6cm, then <10 minutes of fighting them and I go from 6-10cm?!? I pushed once, maybe twice, and our baby boy Lincoln was here and in my arms! Well... in my hands and on my stomach... I grow very short umbilical cords! He was amazing and adorable, but he was grunting while breathing. The nursery nurse on duty was the former head of the NICU on the island, so she let him stay in the room with us while she evaluated him. We were all hoping he would transition and adjust, but he kept getting worse: his nostrils were flaring, his chest retracting, his breathing was very labored, his respiratory rates very high and his oxygen saturation levels were dropping. I'm SO thankful we were able to have that time at the beginning with him. In some ways I'm glad I didn't have any idea he'd be away from us for the next 8 days or that I wouldn't be able to hold him for the next few days because there wasn't sadness, but in some ways I wish I had known so I would have treasured every second of that hour we had him immediately after delivery. During the time Daniel was holding him, I got up to pee and almost fainted walking to the bathroom  - nurses everywhere, smelling salts in my nose... trying to get me in a wheelchair from a tiny bathroom with me connected to IVs still... I'm bummed because I don't feel like I was able to be completely present because of everything that had just got on. In the past 2 days I had my blood pressure taken literally over 100 times, had been poked like 15 times, had been on pitocin 2 full days, had an epidural which I felt absolutely zero good things from and was currently intensely itchy from during the few moments I had with my baby... and all I wanted to do was be joyful and connect and bond with my new babe!!! I did NOT want to be thinking about myself! They ended up having to take Lincoln to the nursery (the hospital I was at doesn't have a NICU, only a Level 2 nursery but, thankfully, all of the nurses that work in the nursery have experience at the NICU on the island).

It turns out the "different spot" on my back was because she accidentally punctured my dural sac (happens in ~1% of epidurals) - something she hadn't done in 10 years. Maybe because I pushed (like one time, maybe two... it happened SUPER quick after being so painfully slow) immediately after getting the epidural, adding pressure, but I started getting the incredibly intense headache and shoulder/neck achiness, stiffness, and pain very quickly after labor. Usually when you have a dural puncture and cerebral spinal fluid leak, it takes a while to start feeling the headache. Since the anesthetist was 100% sure she punctured my dural sac, she went ahead and gave me a blood patch a few hours after labor. They draw a pretty significant amount of blood from your arm and then insert it into your spine in, or near, the place where your dural sac was punctured. Yup... you just had an epidural attempt (which you weren't keen on from the beginning) gone wrong, then another (which you never felt any positive effects from), and now you have to get one more needle in your back shortly after to "fix" it?! Ugh. Anyways, it worked for a few hours, which was wonderful because it allowed me to visit Lincoln in the nursery the next day. I was pretty crazy emotional that next day... mostly because I just had no idea that any of this would happen. When I had asked my OB about the risks of continuing with pregnancy (things get really bad, really fast and there is no mama or possibly no baby) vs. delivering a 36 week baby ("sometimes they have a little trouble breathing, which we can easily fix with oxygen, or they can't quite control their temperature, which we can easily fix with blankets"), it seemed pretty clear cut, and I was imagining holding my baby with a blanket and a little oxygen mask occasionally being administered in the worst case scenario. I take responsibility for not being better informed or having too high of expectations, perhaps, but I was in complete shock when my baby wasn't in my room; I wasn't allowed to touch him; he was obviously in pain breathing ridiculously fast, his chest became barreled, every breath seemed like a struggle; he was put on an IV of sugar water so he'd have something to burn while using so much energy to breath (at first I was not okay with this... "shouldn't he be getting my milk?!"), then added in antibiotics to his IV because it takes a few days to grow the cultures to see if he has any infections, so they administer them pre-emptively (also not okay... "what about healthy bacteria and gut flora, etc. etc.!?"); he had wires hanging off him everywhere connected to machines that beeped steadily and frequently alarmed; he had a nasal canula giving him oxygen; two x-rays in his first 48 hours of life (and my nuke-ness was screaming "ALARA!"), etc. etc. It could have been SO SO SO much worse, and my heart hurts for and I am so impressed by the strength of mamas who have gone through SOOO much more difficult, or life-long situations. In retrospect all of these things (IVs, x-rays, etc.) are so very minor, but in the moment it was all just so real and so unexpected and so not what I had planned. So, I had to just give up! I got to a place where I just stopped asking or requesting or planning for what was best and just accepted that I was along for the ride. If he had to be transferred to the NICU (I was still at our hospital, so I wouldn't have been able to see him until my own discharge... because my debilitating headache returned - sometimes the blood patches don't work - and I had to have another needle put into my back in the same spot the first one punctured and caused this whole thing...) then that would be okay, and God is good. If he didn't get better for a long while, then that would be okay, and God is good. If he died (thankfully this was never something he was even close to medically, but it just represents a place I had to get to in my own head/heart), then that would be okay, and God is good. I had to give up on what I thought was best and commit to being in this for wherever we were being taken and for whatever use. My prayer from the beginning had been that God would be glorified, so if there was one person I was supposed to meet, or one lesson I was supposed to learn through this whole thing (there were lots of little moments where I felt like we were able to positively influence the lives of nurses, students training to be nurses, or future nursery mamas through this), then I'd go through all of this just to meet them or learn it.

So, that wasn't a feel good story. It wasn't a magical experience full of rainbows and unicorns. The immediate rush of bonding between me and my babe was more like a rush of relief that we could stop torturing our bodies into getting him into this world, and then  itchiness and pre-occupation with what was going on with my own body. I wasn't ready to not be pregnant anymore, and there was just A LOT of disappointments along the way, feeling like most of the things I wanted (spontaneous labor, med-free labor, peaceful labor, healthy baby, nursing baby, lots of skin-to-skin, easy recovery for me, no IV, no intravenous antibiotics, big brother meeting his baby, baby coming home with us, etc. etc.) weren't happening. But, ya know what? It's been a month and I am totally head over heels in love with this babe! My natural labor with Cooper was awesome, but it doesn't matter how Lincoln got here... he's here! Although all those early, immediate bonding feelings weren't necessarily there, it didn't take much time at all and we have an amazing, natural, not-forced bond! I am fully recovered (even liver enzymes are almost back to normal), he's nursing like a champ and it really wasn't too difficult of a transition even though it was several days into his life when he started (thankful for pumps!) We haven't noticed any negative side-effects of the antibiotics, and there are no life-long health effects from any of the complications! His big brother adores him and, although we don't have any lovey pictures from the first few days of his life, we have plenty more time to capture their bond. So, the beautiful labor story, immediate bonding, and pictures are overrated. It's taken me a while to be able to say this, but working and praying through it and writing it out has done wonders. I love Lincoln's story. And it's not over. We're writing letters to the hospital administration to get them to provide courtesy rooms to future mamas, we're doing some projects around the nursery to make it more comfortable and hopefully easier emotionally for other families who have to go through that, we're keeping in touch with some of the amazing nurses we had, I'm working to donate the extra milk I had from those early days too and I have no doubt that Lincoln's story of coming into this world will continue to make positive impacts for a very long time. I have some ways in mind, but I'll share those as they happen. ;)

Last picture as a family of 3*!

So tired, but so happy to be holding my newest love!

Soooo tiny!

First time getting to hold him after he was moved to the nursery. I'm so full of joy, but in pain from the spinal headache.

After-bath mohawk. :)

Our boys! Lincoln on the left, Cooper on the right.

Sooo happy he's in my arms!

Just chillin'

Foreshadowing to his teenage years with a cell phone stuck to his ear? (it's a "backing" to keep his IV in)

Daddy love.

On Juju's birthday, our nurse let her in to hold him!

 

A WONDERFUL and joyful moment: seeing him off his oxygen, meaning if all went well we would have him home in 24-hours!!!

 Some of Cooper's nursery nurses/aunties! <3 Auntie Shawn, Auntie Mahea, and Auntie Clarita

First walk at the Kailua marsh trail

First bath at home

First beach trip - North Shore, Waimea beach

The ladies clearly love him... uh oh!

Second beach trip - Kailua beach

Hawaiian boy -- walked to an imu (underground pit used to cook meat like Kalua pork) in his first week home!

Juju snuggles! She is SUCH a blessing!

Third beach trip: Kapolei, Ko'olina Lagoons

Fourth beach trip: Kaena Point Park ... learning how to be a little brother of Cooper

View from our tent!!!

Juju and Cooper "forps"

A little wagon ride and walk

Cooper helping fold clothes by bringing baby every item of his.