Friday morning was to be a more typical morning for me than the past week at home. I had finished a portion of the project I was doing. My sister, who worked as a nurse from Monday through Thursday, volunteered to come over to stay with Woody so I could go to work. Prior to her getting there, I took out the blood pressure cuff that we had purchased to monitor Woody's blood pressure and took a routine morning measurement.
"150 over 110?" I measured as I felt my heart begin to pound nervously within. I tried again only to find the same results. That was significantly higher than what I had gotten before. Trying again, Woody began to get suspicious. "I'm confused," I thought to myself. "After all, I'm not a doctor and I only learned how to use this thing a few days ago. I'd better call Liz".
Liz, my older sister who had been a nurse for several years, was due to come over. Certainly she could show me what I had been doing wrong. While we waited for her to get there, I retook Woody's blood pressure several times only to get the same results. By the time Liz got to the house, we were both pretty concerned. Our concerns were confirmed when Liz got the same blood pressure measurements that I did.
"You better call your doctor," Liz said as she acknowledged that I had used the blood pressure cuff properly.
Dr. Braid told us to meet him in the labor and delivery section of the hospital. Following a quick trip we were again listening to the amplified sound of the baby's heartbeat as we waited for him to arrive. Once again we watched as the monitors etched their way across a paper strip. The only difference was the added sound of an automatic blood pressure machine that inflated and deflated every few minutes.
By the time Dr. Braid arrived in the labor and delivery room, Woody's blood pressure had gone down slightly but still remained dangerously high. After evaluating the situation, Dr. Braid gave us the news we were hoping not to hear. "I think we had better take this baby early," he said while looking up to see our reactions.
"Take the baby early?" I thought not knowing whether to agree or disagree. "If God was going to move, He better move quickly," I thought to myself as I looked over at Woody and then to Liz to see if either of them were going to say anything.
"Liz?" I said as I turned to her hoping her experience would help in this situation. "What do you think?"
"I think you guys better listen to the doctor. Woody's blood pressure is dangerously high," she said as she looked back over to Dr. Braid as he began to try to explain the severity of the situation.
"Woody is in danger of having a stroke," he started. "If that should happen, both your life and the life of the baby would be endangered," he added looking at Woody and then to me.
"Ok," I replied "If we decide to go ahead and take the baby now, where do we go from here?"
Dr. Braid began explaining what his plans were if we agreed.
As devastating as this news was, I can now look back and see the Lord's graciousness in picking this day for us to receive this news. This was the one day of the week that my sister wasn't working. And because of my plans to go to work that day, she was with us when we needed her. In addition, she was a former neonatal nurse and was able to provide us with an understanding of what the early delivery might mean for us and the baby. After a brief discussion, we agreed and preparations were begun for the delivery.
Because the baby was to be delivered prematurely, the delivery was to be done at a nearby hospital that had better facilities for taking care of premature babies. Here again, I can look back and see the Lord's graciousness. Liz's sister-in-law, Debbie, was the head nurse of the operating room staff at this particular hospital. And because her superior was on vacation that day, she was the head nurse for the entire hospital nursing staff. If you've ever had a traumatic experience, and had someone there with you who is in a position of authority, you can understand the calming, reassuring feeling that we received knowing that she was there.
Woody made the short trip to Santa Rosa Hospital by ambulance while I made a quick trip home to pick up some things for her. The delivery was scheduled late in the afternoon and gave me time to notify my parents and for them to come and join me at the hospital.
By the time my parents and I had reached the hospital, Woody was waiting to undergo further preparations for the delivery. Dr. Braid informed us that the delivery was to be done by Caesarean section in order to lessen the shock on the baby. Because of this, Woody had to go through several surgical preparations in a surgical waiting room. Following the preparations, we were able to draw strength from one another as we thanked the Lord for his love for us and for the baby.
After a short stay, we were informed that the surgical room was ready. As several nurses pushed Woody's bed toward the surgical room, another nurse gave me a surgical outfit and mask and pointed me towards a dressing area. Dr. Braid and the hospital staff had previously given me permission to be with Woody in the delivery room, so I quickly dressed and sat impatiently in the waiting room. After what seemed like an eternity, I was led into the surgery room. Woody was already lying on the surgical table, prepared and nervously waiting. The room was freezing cold and was dimly lit except for the bright surgical lights beaming down on Woody's stomach. Debbie took me by my arm and led me to a stool that she had placed at the head of the operating table so I could be close to Woody. She offered us some comforting words and placed my hand into Woody's hand.
Woody's hand felt cold, but wonderful. This was the hand that I had held many times before. I thought back on all the times that she had brought me comfort and encouragement in my times of need and here we faced one of the most critical moments in our relationship and I felt so helpless. I said a quick prayer and we exchanged an "I love you" as the doctors and nurses completed their final preparations.
Dr. Braid gave us a brief rundown of what was going to happen during the surgery and introduced us to the masked faces of his assisting surgeon, the anesthesiologist, and the neonatal doctor who would take care of the baby once he was born.
As requested, the anesthesiologist had given Woody an epidural that deadens all of the feeling below the waist while allowing her to be fully conscious during the surgery. And after determining that the anesthesia had taken effect, Dr. Braid began the careful process of cutting through the skin and underlying tissue surrounding the uterus. I was able to observe the surgery from my vantage point. Even though I expected to be bothered by the blood and cutting of the surgery, it didn't seem to bother me as the bright surgical lights gave Woody's stomach a surrealistic appearance.
I often think about Christopher at this point in time. Here he was, undaunted by the complications suffered by his mother while quietly resting in an environment that has caused man to marvel since the beginning of time. Soon he was to enter the world nearly three months prematurely. He would undergo tests, shots, surgeries, sicknesses, and treatments that none but his Father in heaven was aware. I often wonder what he must have thought.
A short time after Dr. Braid made his final incision through the wall of the uterus, he pulled out a small, blood stained baby boy who entered the world quietly, still asleep. After a few seconds of deafening silence, he let out a healthy cry to announce his arrival. We had learned that this would be a good sign that his lungs, the most fragile part of a premature baby, might be strong enough to sustain his life. We both began to weep as we listened to this beautiful sound.
As small as it may seem, this cry was a gift from the Lord to us. Little did we know that it would be the only time we would ever hear him cry again. But for this precious moment, unaware of the difficult road that lay ahead of us, we were busy rejoicing in this little life the Lord had given us.
The neonatologist quickly weighed and assessed the baby and had him wrapped in a blanket for his quick journey to intensive care. On their way out of the surgical room, the nurse brought him by so we could take a quick peek. His little face, still red and bloody from the delivery, was all we could see as she apologized and headed out the door to the nursery.
Our son, who was to take us on a most incredible journey, we named Christopher David, "the beloved Christ bearer". He was born on January 31, 1986 and weighed 2 pounds, 7 ounces.
© Copyright 1987, 2016 by Rick Murata. All Rights Reserved.
"150 over 110?" I measured as I felt my heart begin to pound nervously within. I tried again only to find the same results. That was significantly higher than what I had gotten before. Trying again, Woody began to get suspicious. "I'm confused," I thought to myself. "After all, I'm not a doctor and I only learned how to use this thing a few days ago. I'd better call Liz".
Liz, my older sister who had been a nurse for several years, was due to come over. Certainly she could show me what I had been doing wrong. While we waited for her to get there, I retook Woody's blood pressure several times only to get the same results. By the time Liz got to the house, we were both pretty concerned. Our concerns were confirmed when Liz got the same blood pressure measurements that I did.
"You better call your doctor," Liz said as she acknowledged that I had used the blood pressure cuff properly.
Dr. Braid told us to meet him in the labor and delivery section of the hospital. Following a quick trip we were again listening to the amplified sound of the baby's heartbeat as we waited for him to arrive. Once again we watched as the monitors etched their way across a paper strip. The only difference was the added sound of an automatic blood pressure machine that inflated and deflated every few minutes.
By the time Dr. Braid arrived in the labor and delivery room, Woody's blood pressure had gone down slightly but still remained dangerously high. After evaluating the situation, Dr. Braid gave us the news we were hoping not to hear. "I think we had better take this baby early," he said while looking up to see our reactions.
"Take the baby early?" I thought not knowing whether to agree or disagree. "If God was going to move, He better move quickly," I thought to myself as I looked over at Woody and then to Liz to see if either of them were going to say anything.
"Liz?" I said as I turned to her hoping her experience would help in this situation. "What do you think?"
"I think you guys better listen to the doctor. Woody's blood pressure is dangerously high," she said as she looked back over to Dr. Braid as he began to try to explain the severity of the situation.
"Woody is in danger of having a stroke," he started. "If that should happen, both your life and the life of the baby would be endangered," he added looking at Woody and then to me.
"Ok," I replied "If we decide to go ahead and take the baby now, where do we go from here?"
Dr. Braid began explaining what his plans were if we agreed.
As devastating as this news was, I can now look back and see the Lord's graciousness in picking this day for us to receive this news. This was the one day of the week that my sister wasn't working. And because of my plans to go to work that day, she was with us when we needed her. In addition, she was a former neonatal nurse and was able to provide us with an understanding of what the early delivery might mean for us and the baby. After a brief discussion, we agreed and preparations were begun for the delivery.
Because the baby was to be delivered prematurely, the delivery was to be done at a nearby hospital that had better facilities for taking care of premature babies. Here again, I can look back and see the Lord's graciousness. Liz's sister-in-law, Debbie, was the head nurse of the operating room staff at this particular hospital. And because her superior was on vacation that day, she was the head nurse for the entire hospital nursing staff. If you've ever had a traumatic experience, and had someone there with you who is in a position of authority, you can understand the calming, reassuring feeling that we received knowing that she was there.
Woody made the short trip to Santa Rosa Hospital by ambulance while I made a quick trip home to pick up some things for her. The delivery was scheduled late in the afternoon and gave me time to notify my parents and for them to come and join me at the hospital.
By the time my parents and I had reached the hospital, Woody was waiting to undergo further preparations for the delivery. Dr. Braid informed us that the delivery was to be done by Caesarean section in order to lessen the shock on the baby. Because of this, Woody had to go through several surgical preparations in a surgical waiting room. Following the preparations, we were able to draw strength from one another as we thanked the Lord for his love for us and for the baby.
After a short stay, we were informed that the surgical room was ready. As several nurses pushed Woody's bed toward the surgical room, another nurse gave me a surgical outfit and mask and pointed me towards a dressing area. Dr. Braid and the hospital staff had previously given me permission to be with Woody in the delivery room, so I quickly dressed and sat impatiently in the waiting room. After what seemed like an eternity, I was led into the surgery room. Woody was already lying on the surgical table, prepared and nervously waiting. The room was freezing cold and was dimly lit except for the bright surgical lights beaming down on Woody's stomach. Debbie took me by my arm and led me to a stool that she had placed at the head of the operating table so I could be close to Woody. She offered us some comforting words and placed my hand into Woody's hand.
Woody's hand felt cold, but wonderful. This was the hand that I had held many times before. I thought back on all the times that she had brought me comfort and encouragement in my times of need and here we faced one of the most critical moments in our relationship and I felt so helpless. I said a quick prayer and we exchanged an "I love you" as the doctors and nurses completed their final preparations.
Dr. Braid gave us a brief rundown of what was going to happen during the surgery and introduced us to the masked faces of his assisting surgeon, the anesthesiologist, and the neonatal doctor who would take care of the baby once he was born.
As requested, the anesthesiologist had given Woody an epidural that deadens all of the feeling below the waist while allowing her to be fully conscious during the surgery. And after determining that the anesthesia had taken effect, Dr. Braid began the careful process of cutting through the skin and underlying tissue surrounding the uterus. I was able to observe the surgery from my vantage point. Even though I expected to be bothered by the blood and cutting of the surgery, it didn't seem to bother me as the bright surgical lights gave Woody's stomach a surrealistic appearance.
I often think about Christopher at this point in time. Here he was, undaunted by the complications suffered by his mother while quietly resting in an environment that has caused man to marvel since the beginning of time. Soon he was to enter the world nearly three months prematurely. He would undergo tests, shots, surgeries, sicknesses, and treatments that none but his Father in heaven was aware. I often wonder what he must have thought.
A short time after Dr. Braid made his final incision through the wall of the uterus, he pulled out a small, blood stained baby boy who entered the world quietly, still asleep. After a few seconds of deafening silence, he let out a healthy cry to announce his arrival. We had learned that this would be a good sign that his lungs, the most fragile part of a premature baby, might be strong enough to sustain his life. We both began to weep as we listened to this beautiful sound.
As small as it may seem, this cry was a gift from the Lord to us. Little did we know that it would be the only time we would ever hear him cry again. But for this precious moment, unaware of the difficult road that lay ahead of us, we were busy rejoicing in this little life the Lord had given us.
The neonatologist quickly weighed and assessed the baby and had him wrapped in a blanket for his quick journey to intensive care. On their way out of the surgical room, the nurse brought him by so we could take a quick peek. His little face, still red and bloody from the delivery, was all we could see as she apologized and headed out the door to the nursery.
Our son, who was to take us on a most incredible journey, we named Christopher David, "the beloved Christ bearer". He was born on January 31, 1986 and weighed 2 pounds, 7 ounces.
© Copyright 1987, 2016 by Rick Murata. All Rights Reserved.