Gunsmoke and Glory

I think I have enough distance and recovery from a tough trial that I can write about it now. 

If you’ve read my post Picture of a Garden, you know that I became pregnant with what I thought was my fifth baby, my fourth pregnancy (twins the last time).  Right from the start, I just knew that something was wrong.  And though I put it out of mind, I also knew that the way my hips expanded so much so quickly, and double morning sickness, that it meant I was pregnant with twins.  This troubled me, as I almost did not survive the birth of my twins 2 1/2 years ago.  I am not afraid to die, but I do not want to leave my family now.  About seven weeks into the pregnancy, I was told by a midwife that I had a miscarriage.  It was a horrible day.  Emotions ran high…..and low. 

The next day, though we did not have the budget to at the time, we went to lunch as a family at El Chico’s at my request.  Strange I know, but eating there with my family during this grief was important to me, for I had eaten there with my family of origin during a time of grief years before when I had returned from Jordan.  In a strange way, I think I was trying to be close to my Mom, who I wanted so bad to still be here.  Then we went to a park and just quietly were together.

Well, at the advice of the midwife, I did not have a DNC.  Unexpectedly, I continued to have morning sickness, almost more so.  And a small pain I had on my right ovary for a couple of months prior, suddenly became severe and constant pain.  As the days creeped by, the pain I felt was from the top of my neck down to my pelvis.  I was afraid to go to the doctor, but I was desperate, for by this point I could not do daily activities.  Starting one load of laundry would land me on the floor crying in pain.  And the thoughts…  I was plagued with troubling thoughts.  They were not me, and they were very scary.

So to the doctor I went.  They prescribed an anti-depressant and sent me home.  Reluctantly, I took it.  I had a major reaction to the medicine.  I went back to the doctor the next day saying that I am not depressed, I am sick!  The nurse practitioner had her afternoon open.  She spent about an hour and a half with me, finally discovering an infection in my uterus and ovaries.  I was given a shot and a prescription for an additional antibiotic.  When the cycle of medicine was finished, my pain was localized again to my right ovary. 

I returned to the NP for a referral for an ultrasound.  Beforehand, she asked me to take a pregnancy test.  I said that I knew I had a miscarriage, and I knew there was something wrong with me.  But I agreed to the test. 

Positive!

At this point, I remained almost stoic, for I did not yet know what was wrong.  When I talked to Jeff later, we did share emotion.  He had said right from the beginning that the Lord kept assuring him that the baby and I would be fine. 

An ultrasound a couple of days later revealed a problem with my right ovary, but it was inconclusive.  They made a best guess that I had been pregnant with twins, one an ectopic.  The other twin, now 14 weeks old, was healthy!  They did not know how to deal with this, so I was referred to a specialist.  The specialist had an incredibly powerful ultrasound.  I was impressed, but not as much as with the new life seen growing in me.  A dermoid tumor was found attached to the right ovary.  It was larger than the ovary, causing torsion of the ovary.  I was admitted immediately for surgery. 

The hospital was so full that day, that I was stuck in a wheelchair in the corner until the doctor himself wheeled me to a crowded waiting room to obtain my medical history.  But first, he ran back to labor and delivery while I was checked in.  Admitting staff wheeled me next to a TV where Gunsmoke was airing.  Upon the doctor’s return, I told him that he was interrupting Gunsmoke.  He laughed, but it was really an inside joke to me.  You see, before my Mom and Dad’s wedding could begin, their father’s had to finish watching that week’s episode of Gunsmoke.  Once again, I was needing to feel close to my family of origin. 

My now family left McDonald’s playscape and made their way to the room I would wait in for a couple of hours while my breakfast had more time to digest.  It was so good to see them.  Jeff was nervous, but strong.  I was nervous too.  After they left, a male nurse with a big smile recognized that I was nervous as well.  Without knowing anything about me, he put his hand on my head and prayed a Spirit-filled prayer.  Peace filled my everything.  Thank You, ever present LORD.

I woke up early from surgery, for they gave me the least amount of anesthetic because of the baby.  I was thinking, “wow, it hurts!”, when the head anesthesiologist yelled, “she’s waking up!”  I woke up again as soon as they wheeled me into the post-op room.  The nurse was scrambling, saying that he’d be right there with pain meds.  But at that point, all I could notice was that the pain of that twisted ovary was gone!  Hospital staff soon came in with a picture of my ovary that looked like a rung out wash rag.  No wonder.

My children were not allowed to stay in my room, so the stay was lonely, but the rest was much needed.

Soon the kids were off to Granny’s house - thank you Granny!  And Jeff and I had two weeks to recover from our latest whirlwind.  And it wasn’t quite over yet, as the nanny we had hired for two weeks prior to my surgery would soon threaten my family.  Maybe I can write on that at a later date.  We’ll see.

After all, I was and remain sooooo thankful that God answered our cries for help.  I truly feel like He has once again given me life back. 

From my distress I called upon the LORD;  The LORD answered me and set me in a large place.  The LORD is for me;  I will not fear;  what can man do to me?                                                                     Psalm 118:5+6

 

 

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