Ezra

This post was written by both Brianna (pink) and Jeff (blue).

Two pink lines – many people would be ecstatic. Unfortunately, I saw two pink lines and I cried. I cried out of anger, fear, resentment, confusion…all the feelings, except joy. This was just another thing that the loss of Zechariah took from me.

Zechariah was delivered on October 29, 2018. I was around five months pregnant – two days shy of 20 weeks. After delivering him, my milk came in. I didn’t get my period back until February – wasn’t in the head space to even try for a baby – and come march – Zechariah’s due date month – two pink lines.

I threw the test at Jeff – called my parents and cried, while Jeff sat there holding me. Then I started screaming at God – why did you take away my son? Just to let me become pregnant so soon – are you going to take away this child also?

Pregnancy is supposed to be joyful; you’re supposed to glow. I spent this pregnancy in fear. It was so hard to be joyful – I was terrified that if I let myself be happy – I’d have to bury another child. I had a hard time bonding with Ezra while being pregnant – and if I am brutally honest – the first few months or so of his life. I struggled hard with the concept that one child had to die in order for the other to be here living. It’s a thought that sometimes still creeps in and haunts me. A thought that I have screamed at God about many times since.

They immediately placed me on high – risk, pretty much guaranteed that I would have a pre-term labor, and my child would be IUGR. Come to find out after the fact that Zechariah was also IUGR – just like Luca – and just like Ezra ended up. IUGR is a fancy term meaning my babies have difficulties growing inside me – they fall below the tenth percentile – and in Ezra’s case – below the first percentile fast, meaning that they have to be delivered and induced earlier. To give you some background – Zechariah had IUGR and at 20 weeks had only grown to 16 weeks.

We still had to assert ourselves but there was less reluctance to put us in with the high-risk team in Modesto. We did our waiting and bided our time filling it with prayer and caution. This was going to be a longer secret than before but we had to bring in our core prayer warriors to help us once again. Commuting, machines, and pokes and prods awaited us (mostly Brianna.)

Around 12 – 14 weeks we started all the testing. Testing that would take us on a roller coaster of emotions. Results that would often come up with your child most likely will have….

One test in particular things got real for us. I remember the ultrasound tech being very quiet. She went to get the doctor and they led us into a small room. The ultrasound showed fluid buildup, Ezra’s heart being formed with a possible hole, and some other less memorable findings. They sat us down and told us all the things that are coming up wrong. They told us our chance of having another still born was high. They told us he could have a rare condition where if he was lucky he’d be born and if he was born, he’d be lucky to make it to a year old, and even then he’d be in severe pain his whole life. They talked about all the potential diagnosis and then asked us about abortion.

The “A” word is a very delicate subject. I’ll be honest – I’ve gone from being a college liberal who would have stood beside my friends saying “give women their rights!” To wishy-washy, and now to being very reserved about it. I think the biggest idea that has pushed to the forefront of my mind lately is that, by taking that power into our own hands – we rule out God and his power.

Having a doctor threaten you by saying your child will likely be in agony if they are born with Trisome-13 is hard to swallow. Do I risk my child, who I’ve never met, who science and medicine cannot not diagnose with 100% accuracy – to live a life of pain or joy? Brianna has always been staunchly against it and I’m thankful for that. The more I listen to stories and live my own, I am more adamantly against abortion. Might life be hard because of that decision? Of course. Having a Seven and three year old makes for a VERY hard life – but I chose that life and am grateful for it. Would it be hard with a special needs child – absolutely. I think you show your love that much more for that child.

Had we heeded the doctors warnings and concerns, had we succumbed to the fear that follow the words “your child has above normal nuchal fluid”….or “your child has……” – our amazing Ezra wouldn’t be here. Despite all the possibilities we were presented with and all the percentages – he has overcome them by the grace and intervention of God.

Yes, yes – you are screaming at me “But what about Zechariah? Where was God then? Why did He intervene with Ezra and not Zechariah?” My answer is simple – I don’t know, but I’ll be sure to ask God in the second half of eternity for you. Until then, I’m going to keep on praising Him – and saying no to abortion.

We walked back to the car in tears, sat in the car and Jeff just started praying for our child, for healing, protection and for peace.

Let’s throw in some corniness. For those of you who listen to KLOVE, you know all too well their unofficial slogan to get you to send in money – “gift someone a KLOVE moment!” It drives me nuts but I don’t change the channel. Brianna and most other people will probably say with vehemence that I am one of the most – calculating – people they know. I attribute cause to everything and there is reason for what happens. But, I can pretty confidently say we’ve had KLOVE moments throughout Ezra’s pregnancy.

Brianna’s right – that day we got hard news, I began a journey of prayer warriorship. But after we got in the car, prayed, and turned the engine over we had our KLOVE moment – the song “I Raise a Hallelujah” was just starting. That song had become an anthem for us in the midst of our struggles. And there in the van, sitting in the Kaiser parking lot, it came on as we began to drive away from the hospital.

I raise a hallelujah, in the presence of my enemies
I raise a hallelujah, louder than the unbelief
I raise a hallelujah, my weapon is a melody
I raise a hallelujah, Heaven comes to fight for me

I’m gonna sing, in the middle of the storm
Louder and louder, you’re gonna hear my praises roar
Up from the ashes, hope will arise
Death is defeated, the King is alive!

At that moment, that’s all we could do. Raise a hallelujah, and let hope arise.

That appointment started more appointments, more tests, more roller coasters of findings. More tears, more fear, and more relying on God while still being so angry with Him.

Around 28 weeks, the day after Labor Day at a routine monitoring appointment Ezra’s heart started having decelerations and I started having contractions. They told me to go straight to labor and delivery. What was supposed to be a quick visit to labor and delivery turned into 16 days of bed rest, 24/7 monitoring and two shots a day in my stomach to fight the pre-eclampsia. I also received the first set of steroid shots to push along development of Ezra’s brain and lungs. His heart though continued to have multiple decels in 24 hour time frames, and my severe pre-eclampsia didn’t improve.

During this time I obviously drew the long straw. I wasn’t being poked and prodded, strapped up, or told not to move. It was still difficult for me though. If you haven’t heard me say it already – I’ve given serious consideration to NICU nursing as followup later in life. With all the time spent in the hospital for Brianna, Luca, Zechariah, and Ezra I, grew very atuned to listening to their monitors, breathing, and reading the ticker strips. Being their guardian in the room was stressful. More than once I had to call in the cavalry because something was off. We had to face hard realities.

Conversations such as how sick do we allow the mom to get versus how sick we allow the baby to get were common. Fear was still in control. I had zero idea if Ezra would make it and now we were wondering if I would have more severe complications such as a stroke, bleeding out, or worse.

Mortality is something we hope to never confront. Yet, many couples and parents face that in situations like ours. We and the doctors walked a thin line balancing Brianna’s pre-eclampsia and Ezra’s slow development.

After 16 days Ezra finally went a full 24 hours without his heart decelling and we were allowed to go home. I was on strict bed rest still but going home felt like a win.

That feeling lasted 6 days until once again his heart started decelling, my blood pressure skyrocketed, and my fluid started to decrease. All signs of “operation get Ezra out” needing to happen ASAP.

I’ll never forget calling my parents to tell them. Luca coming on the phone and screaming “no mommy, why? I don’t want you to go back to the hospital. Please mommy, don’t go!” Through tears we told him we loved him and drove to the hospital where the next day they gave us the last steroid shot and 24 hours later started induction.

Back at the hospital it was back to guard duty. Even though Brianna was a critical case we still had to wait, other babies were ready to come and Ezra was content despite the strain on his and mom’s body. I think we moved rooms three times before things settled down. Anyone who has spent an extended time in the hospital knows what the bad side of eternity feels like.

Having multiple doctors around and only seeing our high risk doctor a couple times a week was hard. Once we got settled in, they pushed a strong dose of pitocin to get things moving but then the next doctor came in and changed things up.

The doctor purposely slowed down my labor as she was afraid Ezra’s heart couldn’t take the fast paced delivery. Ezra was weighing in around two pounds based on their measurements and the NICU doctor’s were standing by and preparing us for a long stay.

After hours of waiting for the magic to happen, Ezra started moving. This time it was just Brianna and I since her folks had Luca to watch. It’s impossible to fill a mother’s shoes but I did my best and just took care of her the best I could. Thankfully, Ezra’s delivery was simpler due to his small size. He came into the world and let everyone know it much to our joy. Three Pounds, 4oz

Due to how small he was though, Brianna got to hold and see him very shortly before I ran off to the NICU with him. Another one of my precious family being poked, prodded and monitored. Thus started our NICU journey.

The Neonatal Intesive Care Unit coming soon