Tonight all I can think about is the night that Anna stopped breathing. I don't know why. Maybe it is because one month from the occurence is coming up. Justin is in Chicago and so I'm here alone with Brice and Anna. I just look at both of them and can't thank God enough for everything he has given me.
Especially little Anna.
Below is the story of what we went through December 29th. It is not a fun post, but one I said I would write about and needed to write down.
I just remember after giving her those breaths and rubbing her back as hard as I could without hurting her, pleading with God to let her live. Justin was on the phone with 911 and had to keep leaving the room because of the way I was screaming for her to be okay. I just kept thinking that it was her heart. As some of you know, Anna has a VSD (Ventricular Septal Defect), a little hole between the ventricles of her heart. Right now, it is not affecting her and may never affect her. We are praying that it closes on it's own or that symptoms never arise and nothing ever needs to be done. Anyway, that night, I just keep thinking, "They missed something, and there is something very wrong with her heart and I'm going to watch my baby daughter die right here on my bed." I now know this is NOT true and that her VSD has actually closed a little bit since birth. But today, for whatever reason my mind keeps going to that night, holding her and knowing she wasn't breathing, rushing her into our room and screaming to Justin to call 911. I am so thankful he was home and able to keep his wits about him enough to call 911, run to the neighbors and arrange care for Brice. I remember thinking to myself, I have to give her CPR, can I do this? I remember giving her the breaths and seeing her chest rise, thank God. Okay, what was her heart rate? About 80 or 90, I calculated. Not high enough. I gave her a round of compressions and then her tiny voice emerging. Talking and screaming at her that she HAD to be okay. She was so pale, so pale. What was wrong with her? Justin kept telling me to stop screaming so loudly, that I would scare Brice. There is this decibel that mothers reach when they lose their baby in the NICU. I have heard this many times and it is heart wrenching. And, yes, this is where my voice was that night. I then rechecked her pulse with my stethoscope that I remembered was in my top drawer of my dresser, 130bpm, good.
Before I knew it, I had thrown clothes on and the ambulance and fire truck were outside of our house. I rushed Anna downstairs to where they were coming in the house. They checked her blood sugar, it was way too high, meaning she was stressed. But, she was breathing that is all I cared about. She wasn't rosy pink, but she wasn't blue either. They loaded us into the ambulance as I shook and was afraid I might throw up. The ride to the hospital felt almost as long as it did when Justin drove 100mph to Northside so I could deliver her. I knew though once we got to the hospital that we would be okay, safe, and that they would know exactly how to take care of her. And they did. And it's over. And I'm thankful.
Part of me wants to forget every detail of that night. The other part always wants to remember so that I don't take one moment with my children for granted. I know that time will heal the bad memories and only let me remember that Justin and I saved our baby girl that night. I will have to tell her the story one day and I can only hope that she will be proud of us.
Parents are the pride of their children. Proverbs 17:6