Callen Lewis: "Rock/Battle, Renowned Warrior"

Dear Callen,

You and I have been through quite the journey together this past year. There is so much healing magic in bringing life into this world, and I think God knew just how much I needed you this year when he saw fit to give you to us when He did. While you grew inside me, I was growing as well, and I never would have made the kind of clean and raw progress I did if I did not have you to fight for at the same time. Daddy and I named you very early on, before things got really difficult. To recognize the depth and meaning in your name as we fought through a series of tiny battles, and how much strength there was to pull from each other, is something I will never stop marveling at. I have learned so much humbly carrying and waiting for you. In this pregnancy, I grew closer to our Lord, battled demons, and was forced to lean on Him for each obstacle, and all the while you were there with me, my little warrior inside. I am so proud of us making it to this side of Mommy and to watch your Daddy and older siblings adore you. You are a gift I will never stop thanking God for as long as I live. Welcome to the world, my Callen. We love you so much.

Love always,

Mommy

There were many tears shed during this pregnancy. 

Tears of panic and fear, tears of bitterness, tears full of relief, and tears of joy and immeasurable gratitude. 

Four negative pregnancy tests before a positive, and a non conclusive ultrasound in the beginning had me waiting anxiously two months to know if it was the beginning or the end of a pregnancy. 

A hospital visit almost halfway through, hands tightly clasped with Stephen thinking I lost him again. 

Trauma in various forms internally and externally, sprinkled throughout 40 weeks. 

Hard decisions leading up to my first c-section in three pregnancies.

Breech baby. I always knew where his head was because it stayed in the same place for the entirety of 2nd and 3rd trimester. I tried everything to get him to flip, but he was wedged and wasn't going anywhere. I refused ECV (External Cephalic Version) because after all the little complications throughout this pregnancy I did not like the stats or the risks involved. Turns out, it would have been too dangerous anyway because he was stuck.

This time was very different. I felt as prepared as I could be thanks to some experienced friends and extensive research of my own. I woke up at 5am, washed using the special soap sponge they give you for a shower at bedtime as well as in the morning (seems overkill as they totally scrub you down with iodine on the table), did my makeup, and helped Stephen collect our things we had packed. 

It was simply surreal walking into the hospital not in labor, not gasping for breath, not irritated and desperate at check-in. They prepped me, drew blood for our cord blood kit, and performed one final ultrasound to make sure he had not flipped into labor position. I knew full well his head was still in my ribs, but hoped beyond reason nonetheless. Confirmed. Still breech. 

Time to meet your anesthesiologist team. Your doctors are here on time. There may be two nursing students in to observe. One thinks she might pass out so she isn't sure. "It's always the tall thin ones."

I have been told what to expect, but still feel unprepared for this moment of total vulnerability entering the operating room. Stephen has to wait and suit up while they get me ready. Freezing cold, naked but for the hospital gown in the front, fear, anxiety, and adrenaline pumping. I cannot stop shaking. Justin Timberlake, Mirrors, is playing. I meet Steve, who is cheerfully singing along. Sitting in the center of the room on a cold, thin operating table, I lean forward as Steve coaches me through and administers the spinal tap. He will be the main guy at my head for the whole thing. Calmly describing everything that is happening, what I will feel, checking in constantly, encouraging us both throughout--I am so grateful for Steve. 

Doctors come in. Everyone is upbeat but focused. Two nursing students stand by the wall to observe a c-section for the first time. I feel so awkward lying here now fully naked from chest down wondering if the sight of whatever is about to happen to me will make the "tall thin one" pass out. Steve tells me they are getting started, that I won't feel pain but I will feel pressure, and I panic because Stephen isn't here yet. Steve notices and kindly reminds the nurse that Dad is waiting in the hallway.

Stephen walks in and sees more than he is supposed to, but doesn't let on that he is absolutely freaking out until we are finished and in the recovery room. I never would have known. He is my center. Everything I need in this moment and more. I feel so blessed to be of one flesh with him. Steve tells him he is a good man.

I continue to shake violently the whole time. My head and shoulders are surrounded with heated weighted blankets. Waves of nausea come and go as my blood pressure dips. Steve adjusts, and lets me know about ten minutes in that Dr. Mesbah is about to deliver our son. It takes a couple minutes of maneuvering. So strange to feel only pressure knowing there are hands inside me. There are very few procedures like this, where you are awake the whole time. The doctor tells me after that he was an unusual breech. There isn't an option for it in the computer as the nurse is documenting. I am so grateful to God for this life-saving option and a trusted physician.

He needs to be suctioned quite a bit but he is crying. Waves of relief mixed with drowsy medical sensations. Steve checks in. Callen's head is next to my head and I kiss his face. He is now safely tucked into Stephen's chest. He is safe. Some minor complications but so far so good. Thank you, Jesus. We just need to get to recovery.

The waiting period feels like forever, but the next half hour passes without any hiccups, and I am rolled to the recovery room. With my son finally in my arms I start to nurse. All goes smoothly but sitting up makes me nauseous. The shaking subsides a bit to be replaced by itchiness all over. The "tall thin one" is elated by the experience. I hear her telling the nurse in recovery that she would like to try for this area as her focus. Stephen lets her hold the baby. There is so much joy and relief in my heart.

Starving and anxious to get to our room, the waiting feels endless. When we finally roll out the door I become violently ill and need to be rolled back and cleaned up. Wait. Start again. Make it to the room this time but throw up again, and again. I AM SOOOOO HUNGRY. It's bizarre to be vomiting but still  have an appetite. 

Over the course of the next 48 hours the painful steps to get through the immediate recovery from major abdominal surgery (once the spinal wore off) was the hardest thing to date that I have ever done. Beyond the hospital at home, I didn't feel anything close to normal until 8 weeks post op. In writing this post, I want to honor every woman who has been through this form of delivery. I have had two natural births and this recovery was unquestionably harder.  I knew it was different. I didn't know it was like this. I have a friend who has undergone 5 c-sections, and she prepared and provided me with emotional support throughout the process. Her level of bad-assery has no real match. 

Here we are on the other side. Safe, whole, blessed. A new little person has joined our family and he was worth every single battle fought over the past year. God's hand is in all, and to Him be all the glory. We rejoice as we welcome this new chapter as a team of 5. Bring it on. 

Ps. Special thanks to Caroline for our gorgeous maternity and newborn photos <3 She is magic behind a camera. 

https://www.carolineskratky.com/