Category: Micah

Now that I was at home on bedrest (not walking through airports or sitting next to a pool in Florida), Daniel and I had to figure out what to do. I had been instructed to stay on bedrest until week 36, the end of June. That seemed almost impossible with a 17-month-old at home! But we were committed to doing what was best for the baby.

My mother had planned to come from South Dakota to help after the baby came. But she was planning to come at the end of July (and this was May).  In the meantime, she was travelling to South Carolina for my brother’s wedding on June 7, and then to Oklahoma the following week to spend 4 – 6 weeks with her mother, who was having rotator cuff shoulder surgery and would be unable to care for herself or even dress herself.

A gracious offer came to us in a unexpected way: Daniel’s sister Darla, a junior in high school, offered to come and live with us, skipping school 3 days a week to help us out. Initially, fearing that her grades would suffer and her other activities and responsibilities would be neglected, I didn’t think that was a good idea, but somehow the amazing Darla made it work! She didn’t really even ask, she basically just told her teachers that she needed to miss school to help her family! I shouldn’t have been surprised! 🙂 She worked so hard both at our house (caring for Mara and the dogs, helping with dishes and housework and making meals) and balancing school, church activities and her own family responsibilities (I don’t even know everything she must have had going on!). We literally could not have made it without her!

Our sweet friend Ruth from church began coordinating child care for Mara (on the days that Darla couldn’t be with us) and meals for us several nights a week. With Daniel’s crazy work schedule, we had to look at each week individually to see the days and times Daniel would be home or working late and match that up with the days Darla could be with us, and find people to help during Mara’s remaining “wake-times.” Ruth did a great job spear-heading this effort, and we felt incredibly blessed to be served by so many members of our church family (some members that we hardly even knew) in such abundant ways.

Bedrest, as you might imagine, was difficult for me. I like to think I did a good job, under the circumstances! The doctors had said I could be sitting up, so I did anything I could from our bed or the couch. I thought I would have plenty of time for extra reading and Bible study, but surprisingly, I still stayed quite busy.  I folded laundry, which my “helpers” brought to my bed. I divided an assortment of snacks into snack bags, so Daniel could just grab them for his lunch. I typed up detailed instructions for Mara’s schedule and care, so the random people who were watching her on any given day would have a general idea of her “routine.” I made simple grocery lists and e-mailed them to Daniel, who stopped at the store on his way home. I looked for baby items we needed on “freecycle” and arranged for Daniel to pick them up.

I spent lots of time with Mara. We brought her booster seat into my bedroom, so she could eat there when necessary. We had fun watching her put her bunny into the booster seat, strap him in, attach the tray, and pretend to feed him, just like we feed her! Since I could no longer lift her, she learned to carry the stepstool into my bedroom, bringing her books, and climb up next to me on the bed. She loves reading, and there was plenty of time for it! We read Sammy the Seal and Corduroy over and over and Bible stories, like the story of Nicodemus (or “Bee-oh-wee-oh,” as Mara called him!). I had my “helpers” bring fruit and snacks within reach of my bed, so when I was home alone with Mara, we could grab something to eat without going downstairs. She loved eating the apples (“bapples,” she called them). In fact, the first time she ate an apple, it was 3/4 gone before I had a chance to tell her not to eat the core!

It was a bittersweet time for Mara and me. Mara was forced to be a “big girl,” to do things “all by herself.” It was exciting to see her pushed a little–to see what she was capable of. But at the same time, she was still so very young, practically still a baby herself. She often cried when I told her I couldn’t pick her up or she had to go up the stairs all by herself. That was the bitter part, because I knew that when (finally) I could pick her up again, there would be another, new baby in my arms, taking her place. She really was my “big girl” now.  In a sense, that made the transition simpler for her, in that she had to adjust to not being carried or held before her baby brother ever arrived at our house. When he came, there was never any hint of jealousy toward him. That was the sweet part.

Running parallel to the preterm labor issues, we also had the continuing saga of the landlord not paying the mortgage or the water bill. The water department came out to shut off our water on May 15 and we had to race around like crazy to get money to the water department that day for all the previous unpaid water bills. If she had told us she was not paying the water bill, we could have done something about it before Daniel had to take off work to deliver money to the water department. What a hassle!

There were things I could do on bedrest regarding our living situation: I revised and proofed Daniel’s communication with our landlord, and spent time talking with legal assistance agencies to figure out what our options were, as far as continuing to live there, since we had a rental contract through December, but the landlord was defaulting on her mortgage. Bottom line: we just needed to find a new place to live.

Being on bedrest, I could no longer continue looking at houses with Daniel and our realtor, Christine. So we decided that they would continue looking without me, but before he would make an offer, we would re-visit the house and I would go along as well.

After a week of this, I thought, we will get into some sort of bedrest routine. But as it turned out, bedrest at home didn’t even last a week.

The nurses in triage knew I was coming since I had called ahead. They already had my file and helped me right away. Taking samples. Sending me to rest and drink large amounts of water while monitoring the baby’s heartbeat and my contractions. Little Q seemed fine, which was good news. And the contractions that were initially five minutes apart when I arrived began easing to eight minutes apart over the course of an hour and a half. They said it is common for contractions to increase throughout the day, strengthen, and then decrease after a long period of rest. They checked at the beginning and at the end: just 1 cm dilated. Which, they told me, could possibly signal the beginning stages of labor or could be simply because I had a previous pregnancy.

The resident on duty at the time decided that I should be on bedrest, only getting up to go to the bathroom and take a shower once a day. He said, “I know you have a young child–I’m sorry, you will have to find child care.”  I told the nurse I had a trip planned to Florida (tomorrow), and she went back to talk to the resident about it. He told her I shouldn’t go and wrote something to the effect of “flying is medically unsafe” on a prescription pad to “help me try to get a refund.”

Great, I thought. I was hoping for a note that said ‘cleared for travel’ just in case the airlines gave me any grief!

The nurse gave me an instruction sheet that said to come back in if my water broke or if my contractions were 5 minutes apart for an hour. I knew to come in if my water broke, but I asked what else I could look for, since my contractions could potentially be 5 minutes apart most of the time. They said, “Just look for something different.” Something different. That seems so vague when your baby’s life depends on it.

So I drove back home, with my bedrest instructions and the prescription that said I couldn’t travel.

I prayed all the way back. I couldn’t imagine bedrest until week 36, but I knew the risk for the baby was too great to ignore. I wanted to be surrendered to God’s plan for me even if that meant bedrest for two months. Or if that meant a pre-term delivery with our baby’s life hanging in the balance. (Quite frankly, either scenario sounded difficult. My dear, dear friend Donna had a 32-week preemie and then spent several weeks on bedrest with her second baby. I watched her go through all of that and saw her testimony of God’s grace for each moment, whether it meant a preterm delivery or bedrest. I wanted that to be true for me too.)

Somehow though it all seemed a bit surreal–like an “overreaction” by unseasoned residents, giving me their textbook diagnosis.

Moms know when they’re in labor, people always say. Don’t worry–you will just know. I didn’t “just know.” And I seriously believed I was fine. Watch me carry this baby full-term! I kept thinking.

I didn’t think I was having actual pre-term labor, and I didn’t think it was unsafe to travel, but I was sure Daniel who had already questioned whether or not I should go would side with the resident.

He surprised me. He said I should go! He agreed that I would actually rest better at my sister’s house in Florida than I would at home.

Other factors he was weighing:

• My sister had purchased my plane ticket, and the ticket was non-refundable.
• My brother’s wedding was June 7, and at this point, our attendance was looking pretty iffy. My brother’s wedding was to be the first entire Bunton family get-together in several years, and we were all really looking forward to it! Knowing that I would probably have to miss my brother’s wedding, Daniel wanted me to at least be able to see my sister. . . my dear husband.

So the day after I was put on bedrest, Mara and I hopped on a plane to Jacksonville, Florida, where I did not leave my sister’s apartment once on our entire trip, except to go sit by the pool and watch Mara play. I didn’t go to the beach.  I didn’t go out to eat. I didn’t go to church. I didn’t even go to the park across the street.  I was, after all, on bedrest.

My sister had some special together time with her little niece! Taking her to the park, to church, to the store, to get “take-out.” I struggled, as expected, to just sit.  But it truly was a relaxing time, and I knew it would be much simpler to relax there than at home. Although I frequently had contractions during our visit, they weren’t strong and I didn’t time them.

We left Jacksonville very early on a Tuesday morning. It was a direct flight and Mary helped me check all my luggage. So all I had to do was walk slowly to the gate pushing Mara in the stroller with the diaper bag hung on the stroller handles. Sounded simple–and benign–enough. But my contractions during the flight began to play with my mind. I was starting to think that there might be something to this “preterm labor.” Of course, I didn’t mention that to any Southwest airline personnel . . .

We got home, and I knew I needed to rest. I was wiped out, just from getting up early and walking through a couple of airports! Some friends from South Carolina were here in the city and having dinner with our friends Chris & Melissa Tuesday night before flying home early Wednesday morning, and we had planned for months to go over and eat dinner with them. If it had been someone we might see more often, I wouldn’t have gone, but under the circumstances I felt it was best to go, with the understanding that I would only sit on the couch and sit and eat dinner, then leave.

We went, but the contractions were becoming very uncomfortable. And as soon after dinner as I could suggest it, Mara and I went back home. She was tired, I was tired. We both slept well.

My son Micah has a special birth story. Unfortunately, as it unfolded, I had little time to record the details. So as I think back to “what we were doing this time last year,” I’m going to write it down before I forget. It’s hard to believe he is almost 11 months old!

One year ago this week, I was 27 weeks pregnant. Everything seemed to be going well. Just four weeks earlier on Thursday, March 27, we had our first ultrasound at 23 weeks, confirming that there was most certainly a baby inside and showing us clearly that the baby was a little boy!

I had no concerns about the pregnancy because my first pregnancy had been very typical and uncomplicated. My first labor lasted forever, so I wasn’t really even concerned about making it to the hospital 40 minutes away. We will have plenty of time, I kept telling my husband.

During the early morning hours of April 27, I woke every hour, and sometimes more often, with contractions. I hardly slept at all that night! It was a bit unnerving. But when I talked to the resident about it, I was told, “You will notice things happening earlier with your second pregnancy, especially Braxton Hicks contractions.” And a friend who has six kids wrote me: “I had Braxton Hicks contractions for a long time towards the end of my pregnancies. Especially the more babies I had!” So I chalked it up to second-pregnancy Braxton Hicks contractions.

There was still a part of me that questioned whether week 27 with baby #2 should feel like week 38 did with baby #1. Little did I know that this was the beginning of the end!