If it had not been the Lord who was on my side, I would have died on that table….
Everything was different this time. From the moment I got pregnant, I decided there will be no emergency room visits this time, so I took the communion daily and kept declaring God’s word over myself and my unborn child.
Whilst there were days when I thought, I’d eventually have to take the trip down there because of the painful contractions I sometimes had, I stood my ground telling God my baby will be born in due season not one day prematurely. And He came through for me. The doctor also told me not to worry, she had no concerns about preterm labour for me.
Little did I know that the main battle was waiting for the day of delivery. First it was the anesthesiologist not getting the right spot for the spinal block. Two of them struggled for thirty minutes, numbing my skin, trying again etc. It was needle pokes over and again, couched over for solid thirty minutes, maybe even more. All I could do was to keep whispering “Jesus take control”. By the time they got through and my husband was brought in, I was in tears already….
The first fifteen minutes went by quickly and we heard her screaming her lungs out as she was delivered. And though she isn’t my first, when I saw her pretty face, this child that made me feel I was pregnant for the whole year, I knew it was worth it. She is worth it!
Then the real battle started. After baby is brought out, the rest of the surgery shouldn’t take more than thirty minutes, before I’m able to join baby and daddy in the recovery room, but I found myself lying helplessly there waiting and wondering, listening to my gynecologist muttering to herself “everywhere I put the needle, there’s bleeding….”
I pleaded for them to let my husband stay with me, the pediatric nurse obliged for a few minutes, saying “Dad let her keep seeing the baby, maybe that’d distract her”, but eventually she said they have to leave. “Dad needs to come with me to take care of baby”. My husband looked at me and said”don’t worry, you’d be fine, this isn’t goodbye, I’m just going to take care of zion”.
What seemed like an hour later I found myself asking the anesthesiologist, pls how long more? What’s taking so long? She took a peep over the screen and said “you know what darling, why don’t you just listen to the music playing and take a nap”.
Ha, take a nap bawo. Jesus help me, Jesus take control. That was all I could keep whispering, lying there exhausted, praying that won’t be the first and last time I get to hold that pretty baby.
Two hours after baby was born, I was eventually wheeled out to the recovery room. All I remember was my husband saying “it’s so good to see you again”.
Everything changed. I was grateful to be alive. I was appreciative of the air that I breathe, the ground I walked on and especially of the people that cared for me. I thought I used to say thank you a lot, now I realise maybe not nearly enough. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you Father for sustaining this life you have given me. Thank you for this wonderful man you have given me. Thank you for helping me birth these babies. Thank you for my praying mother and all my praying friends.
Thank you for my gynecologist who wouldn’t throw in the towel. Thank you for the doula you brought into my life who introduced me to her. Thank you for winning this battle even before it started. Thank you for my in-laws that took care of zoe when we couldn’t. Thank you for the kind nurses. Thank you that the person reading this testimony isn’t reading my obituary instead.
Above all thank you for your word that I could hold on to. “That I would not build for another to inhabit and I would not plant for another to reap”. Thank you Father for bringing me through!