This story is mine – hers – ours, but it’s far different from what I would have crafted. From our first visit to the OBGYN, it was different. I’m not going to lie and say “I wouldn’t have it any other way”, because if I had been able to choose, I would have chosen another way. But, she is here and healthy, and that outcome is the result of the story God gave us. So while I may not be able to honestly say “I wouldn’t have had it any other way”, I can say that it was a unique and beautiful expression of the miracle of life, and I am thankful to have been chosen as the vehicle between sweet Shea and the physical world she now walks. Today, I share with you the story of Shea’s arrival!
A Tumultuous Start…
But first, I’ll brief you on the turbulent start. Prior to our 8 week appointment, I bled. I bled, real early. I bled more – in volume and frequency – than I ever did with Brooks, so you can imagine my anxiety. Upon our 8 week visit, the doctor noticed a mass surrounding the embryonic sac and gave it the name “subchorionic hematoma”. Terrified, I fired off a fraction of my billion questions and learned that this hematoma was basically an unexplained mass of both fresh and old blood clots surrounding the placenta. It hadn’t yet caused any harm, but it could. It would raise my chances for miscarriage and subject me to bedrest for the weeks – and months – to come. Enter more anxiety (and chocolate… lots of chocolate).
So, I sat around. Prayed. and ate chocolate. Christmas came and went, we moved across states, moved in with my sister while we house hunted, and the bleeding continued to plague my peace with it’s spontaneous rearing. Right after new years, at around 23 weeks pregnant, I experienced my heaviest bleeding episode. A prompt visit to the doctor revealed that the hematoma had appeared to dissolve, but a placental previa was now the source of the alarming symptoms. I learned that placental previa subjected my placenta – and thus pregnancy – to damage and trauma due to the friction of the cervix on it’s fragile tissue. And so, less friction = more bedrest.
Bedrest is tough when you’re chasing around a toddler.
Out of the Woods?
February came and went, and the bleeding did not! So, we eagerly met our new doctor in Kansas City. The good news? No more placental previa and no more hematoma! my “modified bedrest” was officially over (within reason). The bad news? We were unaware of the severity of the “shoulder dystocia” experienced during the birth of Brooks and now would not be able to deliver naturally – or vaginally at all – as I’d hoped. Garnering second opinions validated the concerns of our doctor, and so we scheduled our C-section. We would have Shea on the morning of April 28th, 2020!
A Cross-State Move, Pandemic, and an Impending Due Date…
March brought a pandemic, and April brought fear. Just as we had finally made our way through the tunnels of a complicated pregnancy, we were now faced with a slew of “what if’s”. We would not be able to tour – or even enter – the hospital we had not yet seen but would bring our daughter into the world in. Matt would no longer be permitted to accompany me to my baby appointments. And each visit I attended revealed a new stress-inducing development. Would we be able to have visitors? Would Matt be able to be there? What if they start testing patients prior to delivery? What if I tested positive? Would I be given the choice to hold my baby girl if positive? What if she is positive? Does this mystery virus threaten her health? Does everyone we associate with need to quarantine before baby arrives? Oh, we should not associate with anyone? at all? How about grocery trips? and Jobs? And our new home mortgage that kicks in in a month? If I didn’t know what pregnancy insomnia was before, I do now.
We hid in our bubble, the three of us. We put our new home together, built countless pieces of deck furniture, ordered way too many things on amazon… and finally packed our bags. We stocked the freezer and hunkered down, doing our best to keep life colorful while the news tried to dull it. Less news, more walks, homecooked meals, projects, family dance parties, online poker games, tigers, and LOTS of lime sherbet. Oh, and snacking on ice by the tray. In an effort to avoid the inevitable shift to routine COVID testing of all patients, we did our best to “encourage” baby to make an early entrance beginning at 38 weeks. We figured it would be easy considering that Brooks tried to come early three separate times between weeks 32 and 38!
A Dramatic Entrance
We were wrong. Each day brought an unsubstantiated glimmer of hope that labor was starting, and by the day before our scheduled C, we had come to terms with the reality that we would not be having this baby early and that I would not enter into the natural labor progression that I so desperately wanted to experience. So, on that final night as a family of 3, we made plans to relax and enjoy. I walked around out new blooming yard, admiring all the wildflowers that were beginning to emerge. One in particular struck me – a bright, tall, funky looking purple flower. I trimmed up a bunch of those vibrant day lilies and proudly displayed them inside. It was April 27th, 2020, 5 PM. I finally packed my hospital bag (yes, the day before) and filmed a pregnancy video for the blog. Sporting a maternity dress and white pumps, I pretended to appear comfortable and thriving for the camera and the 30+ shots I took. Frustrated, I threw in the towel and drug matt with me on a walk.
We had his parents quarantining with us at the time, so we left Brooks with them so we could enjoy a stroll alone – likely our last for some time. Per usual, my contractions picked up as we walked. Matt asked me if I’d like to turn around, as he always does, and I declined. We joke about how Shea is going to come 12 hours early on the one night we actually don’t want her to come. After all, we had steaks on the grill and plans to go to bed early! Shea was scheduled to arrive at 8 AM the next morning, and we were enjoying our remaining hours together! 7 PM, we are home and setting the table for dinner. My contractions continue, but such is normal, so I sit down and wait for them to subside, Matt insists that I time them, but we’d been here before plenty of times, so I dismiss it and proceed with my ice chewing. About an hour later I recognize that my contractions have not subsided, so I decide to take a long shower… that should do it!
It didn’t. As I sat at the dinner table struggling to engage in conversation, my mother in law asked me if I was okay. Maybe now I should start timing these, I suggested. 30 minutes later, the contractions are consistently between 2-6 minutes apart. Everyone insists I call the doctor, but I’m not convinced, so I prepare myself a hefty bowl of lime sherbet and sit down on the couch.
Okay, that one was painful. Another contraction and this time it felt weird, because they’ve been strong, but never painful. So, I call the doctor. As I speak to him on the phone, I begin to respond physically to the contractions that increasingly arrived. By the end of my conversation with the on call doctor, I could no longer stand upright through a contraction and it was decided that we should hurry in. We were racing my labor at this point because if I were to deliver vaginally again our risk for shoulder dystocia would be very high and potentially catastrophic, so we had to beat my body to it! Running through the emergency room doors, we almost forgot that we had to wear masks.
We get up to the room, the on-call doctor on his way, and my contractions rapidly became stronger and more painful. We were waiting on a C-section Operating Room to become available, so in the meantime, I had to endure. Fortunately for me, we had plenty of visitors because it took about 6 different nurses and 12 attempts to secure my IV into my apparently small veins!
Into the OR
From here is a blur. A room quickly became available and we rushed into the OR where I was swiftly numbed from the chest down. The moment it happened, I felt so jittery. I was shivering, talking up a storm, shaking, just all jacked up. That sounds like poor English, but it really is the best way to describe how I felt – jacked up. It didn’t take long for me to be completely numb, a sensation that was quickly followed by a seemingly aggressive procedure to get Shea out. I couldn’t feel the pain, but boy could I feel the pressure! It was WEIRD. It was like non-painful but heavy blows to the abdomen but coupled with a feeling of being opened – I really felt the heaviness of pressure inside my stomach and toward my back as if someone was ripping my insides out. Which is actually precisely what was happening.
Welcome Shea Marie!
Matt, being accustomed to the atmosphere of the OR, was right in his element. He loves this stuff and was way too invested in watching for my liking! I watched his face as he held my hand and his expression informed me when she was here. He lit up, we heard a cry, and I felt so much relief. SO MUCH RELIEF. I hadn’t even been told the news to my face yet, but I knew she was here and was filled with so much joy. Tears streamed down my face as I felt peace that my baby was out and well. Just before midnight on April 27th, 2020 (6 lb 2 oz and 19 in. long), Shea Marie Brown was here. Everybody rushed over to the other side of the room to check her out, and for a moment I felt so alone there on the bed as a couple doctors closed me up. But while I may have felt alone, I felt so wrapped in peace – the Lord was most certainly right there with me and I knew He was with Shea too. Within minutes they brought her to me and set her by my head. I felt so nauseous, heavy, hard of breath… all the horrible after effects of the surgery and meds… but she was right there in my neck and it felt so right and complete.
We moved into the recovery room and snuggled our new sleepy miracle. Matt fetched me nearly 100 cups of shaved ice (that hospital ice was the best thing I’d ever tasted and I was hella thirsty), and my nurse came in and pushed the life out of me with “uterus massages” every so often. My body felt like it was falling apart, but I was so very proud of it and needed nothing more from it than to hold my girl.
We spent 3 days in there together, just the 3 of us, no visitors. We couldn’t have any due to COVID restrictions, which was actually pretty special. Because had we had the option, we would have loved our loved ones – Brooks especially – to come visit. But less hands to hold her just meant more of those early snuggles for ourselves. Matt wasn’t allowed to leave, but he did get the okay from the nurses to sneak out for freddy’s frozen custard one night. Those three days were exhausting, painful, but some of the best of my life.
Homecoming
April 30th, we brought Shea home to meet big brother Brooks. I could keep going… but I’ll stop here. Shea’s story is uniquely hers and still being written… I’m loving turning the pages. Oh and her name? It’s a combination of our middle names: Matthew Shea and Kelsie Marie – Shea Marie! Matt and I are so thankful that God chose us to cultivate the space for her beautiful soul to flourish.
One Year Old Shea