Fiona Joy's Unexpected Birth Story

Fiona Joy's Birth Story

Just like any other early morning, I had gotten up to pee for the buh-jillionth time. 35 weeks and six days pregnant, I was counting down the remaining 36 days until my due date. They couldn't pass soon enough.

I had been planning a natural birth from the very beginning. I was seeing some wonderful midwives at a local birthing center who were helping me achieve my goal of a drug-free birth. The ultimate plan was to have a natural water birth with a midwife present at their cozy birthing center. 

I had endured a rough first pregnancy so far. Morning sickness all day for the first 14 weeks, increasing back pain, rapid and excessive weight gain, and high blood pressure where just some of the downers that were wearing me out. 

Just a few weeks before, baby Fiona decided to go breech on me. Her little head didn't feel so little when it rammed into my ribs. We were both very uncomfortable. Needless to say, I knew we had to try to get her flipped around before the big day. With this problem and my rising high blood pressure, my chances of having a birth at the birthing center were looking slim. For liability reasons, they would rather have me birth naturally at the hospital with a Doctor on call just in case something bad happened (heaven forbid). I took measures into my own hands to get her flipped around and had started seeing a chiropractor who specialized with pregnant women and regularly practiced the Webster technique for flipping breech babies. I had been seeing her daily for the last week or so. No results yet.

After my routine morning haul to the bathroom, I returned to bed. As soon as I got comfortable in my sheets, I felt water dripping from my under-side. I thought to myself, "Did my water sack break?" I pushed myself up out of bed and back into the bathroom to see what it exactly was. After all, the possibilities are endless when you are pregnant. Sure enough, it was amniotic fluid from my water sack. It wasn't leaking very badly, so I decided to sit up at my computer for a while and monitor the fluid periodically. I had an appointment scheduled with my midwives in just 3 short hours. My hope was that I could make it until then without calling them (since the office was still closed, I'd have to call them at home.)
I saw my friend Tara was online on facebook. She is the head nurse at the labor and delivery center at the Providence Hospital here in town. I told her about my water breaking and she encouraged me to call my midwives and head to the hospital since I was so early to be delivering. I had taken my phone to the bathroom to check my water leakage again. Low and behold, by the time I got to the bathroom door, it wasn't just a leak anymore. I called my midwives and they told me to meet them at the hospital as soon as possible. I woke up my sleeping husband with the surprise news. He looked a little befuddled at first. It was too early for our baby to come!
We grabbed our packed hospital bags (lucky for me, I had already packed them the week before!) and darted out the door. I was wearing a night gown with a t-shirt over the top for modesty. With fluid still running down my exposed legs, I convinced my husband to take my mother-in-law's car from the garage instead of one of our cars, which were outside in the freezing snowy Alaska weather. We took her car and left a message on the sleeping grandma's cell phone explaining where her car had gone.
All the way to the hospital, I was having mild contractions every few minutes. We kept calm as we navigated through the 7:00am rush hour to the hospital. Waiting there for us was my friend Tara, who had just clocked in. She helped us get situated as we waited for our midwife, Barb. The nurses there were very sweet and helped me and my husband settle in. Soon Barb arrived and asked me about how I was feeling. My contractions weren't more than uncomfortable and coming every 5-7 minutes. With some hope, we called in the doctor and an ultrasound machine to see if there was any chance of flipping our baby and delivering naturally.
"There's absolutely no water left," Barb told me as she viewed the ultrasound screen. "And she's in such a weird position! Look at that."
Our little daughter was still breech with one foot up by her face and one down by her bum. Her little hands were tucked between her awkwardly placed legs. It also appeared that she was sitting on her cord.
Just about five weeks before, I had learned at one of my ultrasounds that I had what was called a Velamentous Cord Insertion. This particular condition leaves one or more of the blood vessels that attach from the cord into the placenta vulnerable to breaking. Of course, this is dangerous if one of them does break, as it is likely to lead to the death of the child. This could be handled in a regular birthing situation, but this was not regular.
It was explained to me later that the veins breaking would have likely been the case had they let me try to deliver naturally. Though, delivering naturally wasn't going to happen anyway with my crazy little girl being in her crazy position. It would be very difficult to deliver a breech baby who was doing the splits.
The doctor explained to me the urgent need for an emergency C-section and apologized sincerely for my "loss" of not having a natural birth like I had planned. He is a rare doctor at the fact that he would normally deliver a low risk breech baby. In this case he did not consider us "low risk." He promised me he would do his best to ensure that I would get the chance to have a VBAC natural birth with my next pregnancy. I took him at his word and I was wheel chaired to the operating room.
I tried to keep calm with my husband, Tara, and Barb by my side. I hardly noticed the contractions anymore as they came and went. My mind was on this unexpected surgery. Just three hours before, my water had started leaking. Now my whole life was changing as I was about to welcome into the world my brand new baby girl in ways I had never expected.
I sat up on the table and the anesthesiologist introduced himself to me and explained his part of the procedure. Tara held my hands as she stood directly in front of me. She told me to curve my back around my belly for the shots they were putting in my back for the spinal. I wrapped my arms around her and laid my forehead on her shoulder. The shots were painful, and more than anything they started to make me nervous. She whispered to me how well I was doing and how strong I was. I held back tears from the pinching as the anesthesiologist finished. I laid back on the operating table. Shortly after, my body went numb from my shoulders down. I could only feel the top half of my lungs, which was a weird sensation when trying to breathe. They placed an oxygen mask on me, which I repeatedly took off (it was making me claustrophobic and annoying the crap out of me.) David sat next by my head, resting his hand on me. Barb stood next to him and took pictures for us on David's phone. They placed the curtain up so my husband and I could not see what was going on. The rest happened so quickly.
The next thing I know, they were moving my baby girl across the room and onto the weighing table.
"Seven pounds, three ounces!" They told me, in awe of how much my premature daughter weighed. My husband left my side to see our daughter. Tara leaned down to me and whispered, "I've never seen Davey smile so big, have you?"
"No," I whispered back, as I looked over to see the corners of his mouth raised high around the edges of his surgical face mask.
They handed her to him, all swaddled up. Her thick dark hair was prominent as I looked her over. They stitched me up as I admired my daughter for the first time. They took her to the nursery to check her over as they took me away to the recovery room to monitor me. David followed her to make sure she was okay. After about 40 minutes, we met up again in what was going to be our room for the next several days. They told me baby Fiona's blood sugar levels were scary low. David fed her formula in the nursery to try to boost her blood sugar.
As my body's nerves started feeling again, I started shaking uncontrollably as a reaction to the spinal. The pain killers where hooked to my IV, but I was starting to feel the pain anyway. I tried to hold my baby, but it was difficult to control my shaking well enough to speak, let alone hold my child. The pain was growing increasingly uncomfortable as the spinal wore off. My husband's family was allowed in our room to see me and their new granddaughter and niece. They all held her while my shaking continued.
I complained when the pain was becoming unbearable.The nurses upped my dosage for the pain killers. They still were not working, but instead were just making me itchy everywhere. Still quivering under my blankets, they upped my dosage again and told me that was the most they were allowed to give me. Still, there was very little if any relief. They quickly realized that the pain killers weren't working for me, so they had me eat something so I could start taking other pain killers orally.
Our family left shortly after seeing that I wasn't quite ready for company. I'm sure it wasn't very comfortable seeing me shaking and complaining about the horrible pain of post-surgery to the nurses.
As soon as I could, the nurses had me trying to nurse Fiona. Her blood sugar levels were still scaring us and she needed the nourishment quickly. We ended up supplementing her with formula through a small tube under a nipple shield on my breast until my milk came in.
The first night was hard. I had only about 30 minutes of sleep total. Every hour there was a nurse coming in to check on me and Fiona. They monitored her blood sugar all night as well as my pain levels. The next morning, 24 hours after the surgery, I was able to get up and walk to the bathroom with the help of two nurses and two Vicodin. They took my catheter out (yuck) and I started making progress from then on out, little by little. Fiona took to nursing very easily with the help of a lactation consultant, which was encouraging.
On day four, they released me from the hospital. David was at work, but his mother Happy came and helped me take my baby girl home. I was still in a lot of pain, which didn't seem to go away as the next few days went by. I started running high fevers and shaking with the chills.
My friend Talena (Tara's daughter) took a day off work to take me to see a doctor at the hospital one morning after I was feeling too sick to even feed my baby. I came back with antibiotics for an inflamed and infected uterus.
Today, I took my last antibiotics. I'm off pain killers except an occasional ibuprofen. We are doing fantastic, and with the help of daddy David we are both well rested. Fiona is gaining weight like a champ and nursing is still going extremely well. In the two weeks since delivery, I've lost about 30 of the 60 pounds I gained during pregnancy. I'm feeling much better and peppier.
God sure has a way of throwing loops in my plans, but by the end He always brings the glory back to Himself. In this case, with my beautiful healthy baby girl.

Fiona Joy Chronister

Feb. 1, 2013 at 10:37am

7 lbs. 3 oz. 18.5 in.

Photography Portfolio -A Shameless Self Promotion-

leeannachronister.foliohd.com

I thought I'd post a link so you can visit my photography portfolio. There's just a few select pictures on there of artwork I've done. If you want to see more, click on the contact button and visit my facebook page.

Vale!

Young Love

Some thoughts provoked by a young friend of mine and her matrimony troubles. She's a beautiful person, just recently turned 18 and, as of just about a year ago, has found the man of her dreams. She's always been a little boy crazy. Believe me, I remember her junior-high and high-school years (which weren't so long ago.)
Last Valentines day, her boyfriend proposed to her. It was very romantic, from the look of the pictures. Though I've not personally met him, I can say the man has taste in flowers for sure. They went on planning their wedding for August, waiting until she had turned 18.
Story short, they have not married. Not because their love has vanquished or because they are unsure or nervous about proceeding in a life long commitment. No, it is simply postponed until further notice because her father will not give his blessing. That is, not yet. For the little I know, His blessing weighs on certain requirements that the couple must complete. More pre-marital counselling, from my understanding, being the main concern. Though both of these young people are technically adults (she being18 and he being 20), some would encourage them to go on with the marriage, as it is quite frustrating and even costly to have to re-plan a wedding, re-send invitations, re-schedule an event for dozens if not a couple hundred people.
It is of my opinion, which rarely matters anyway in such cases, that they are doing the right thing by waiting. I mean, she lives at home dependent on her father's care for one. Not to mention the fact that they are both quite young doesn't exactly settle one's stomach about it all -especially if you are a loving parent (which I know her father to be.)
I reminded her in her weariness of dealing with all of this that how she handles and responds to her father in this disagreement is the biggest testament to her maturity as a woman. For instance, if you are whiny and crying at your father in bitterness - you are certainly not displaying a character of a woman whose ready to handle life. Not saying that was her reaction, since I don't know what it has been, but for example's sake.

Having been recently married myself, and though I love my husband dearly, I can not lie. Marriage is hard. Its harder than the hard you expect it to be. We were fortunate to be living with a marriage councilor before our wedding who happen to know us both fairly well. You see, God doesn't leave us without instructions on what to become to paint the picture of marriage that He intends for us. My biggest pre-marital struggle was coming to terms with leaving behind who I was and trading it in for becoming a person who completes "us." The idea of being a person who completes an entity of marriage, which is love, which is patient, kind, keeps no record of wrongs, etc. Ending (but not forgetting) my days of "freedom" as a "wild" single and buckling down for giving myself up to one person forever....ehh... doesn't always feel appealing. I have no regrets. I'm so very glad I didn't call off my wedding or anything, but it is a whole different life. No matter how prepared you believe you are, you realize that your true colors come out after a while and a lot of the time those are the colors your parents or siblings or best friends know about and your future spouse doesn't. And 99% of the time, you don't even know you have them either. 

"You'll have to clean the house and massage my bunyons and clip my thick, yellow toenails! Hey - marriage is no picnic! You gotta work at it." -Count Olaf

A Heartbeat Epiphany

So, about all of this talk about having purpose. All of the talk in my head, overflowing out my fingertips and through my teeth, I have preached to many my belief that being alive today is a result and shear proof that God has a purpose for me. Without God's mercy and providence I wouldn't be here today to write this blog post (let alone take a breath.) And for so long I have stood fearless of death. My concern was never what my purpose was, as long as I was doing what was glorifying to God (though I don't always succeed at that). I knew that when I was done on earth I will have done my part in God's world and He will not have left me.

This late spring, I was married to a pretty fabulous guy. And it seemed like as soon as the calm after the "wedding-storm" came, we were blessed with the news that we were expecting. Some time has passed and I'm glad to report that I'm no longer enduring morning sickness all day. Nope, lately it has been true to its name and only been bugging me in the mornings. Still, I am quite certain that whoever called it "morning sickness" must have been a man.

Yesterday, I had my first real appointment with my midwives. Most of the appointment was incomparably fabulous to the moment when David and I heard our baby's heart beat for the first time. The midwife turned to David and assured him "there really is a baby in there!"

Now, there is this new uncomfortable feeling with death. Before, I would have been comfortable or okay with leaving this earth young and eventually forgotten, as I said before. But now is different. Now I can foresee my purpose. I can feel it as my body changes to make a temporary home for my child. I'm not ready now. I'm not done. I know this because I can feel my experiences becoming bits of wisdom that no one will greater benefit from than my little one.

Now I seek to increase in gentleness, because life is precious - and I don't just mean my own. No, I'm proud that my purpose isn't to be famous or known for my accomplishments. No, my purpose is even greater, more fantastic, so divinely organized... My purpose is to raise precious children of God.

So, though my blog posts will be few and far apart, I will surely update you with the progress of our new adventure with our little Chonister.

God Bless.

Busy with life, so to substitute.......

I'll post an update soon - but for now, a photography project I did. My lovely student Brynn as my model.

Prop 5 in Alaska

Here's some perspective.

Now, I am not idiot enough to assume that any of you don't understand or agree with first amendment rights of religious freedom. I will say this though- We aren't all be consistent with it.
First of all, I don't believe this is a civil rights issue. Civil rights does not deal with the action or behavior of people (whether anyone here believes those behaviors are by choice or not.) It deals with something far more simple. It deals with bloodline. We know now that Hitler was wrong when he believed that some humans (including blacks and Jews) where less deserving or less intelligent than others. Establishing the truth that blacks and whites (or anyone else) are otherwise the same (in behavior and capability) is what civil rights is all about.
Nobody in favor of voting no on prop 5 believes that homosexuals are less capable or less intelligent than anyone else. This is simply not about equality in that sense. This is not about discrimination.

We are not fighting because we enjoy discrimination. Heck, we're not even fighting to discriminate at all. We're fighting because it is our CONSTITUTIONAL RIGHT to conduct our own lives, private property, and businesses as we see fit through freedom of speech and religion just as we support homosexuals to to have the freedom to conduct their own lives. Yes, Christianity, when consistently believed, believes that homosexuality is a sin. The myth that inconsistent Christians have spread is that it is the worst one. Its not. In fact, as a Christian, I can say that I am just as horrible of a sinner in my own standard as any homosexual may be. THAT is what the CONSISTENT belief of EQUALITY should look like, and I WILL UPHOLD MY RIGHT TO BELIEVE THAT. I also uphold my CONSTITUTIONAL RIGHT to say it and practice my religious freedom by choosing not to facilitate homosexuality within my own life. I don't hate gay people. I have gay friends. I love them dearly and I think nothing less of them. Would I (as a photographer) take a job photographing their "wedding" ceremony to a same sex partner? I would not because I am a Christian who believes that it is important for me and my business to uphold my religious morals. Who, in their right mind, is willing to honestly say that it is fair that my personal rights of religious freedom are disregarded so that two people won't feel discriminated against?
Not to be harsh, but grow up!
Honestly, I would vote the same if this was one any other matter that has to do with religious freedom. I have the RIGHT to speak against abortion because I believe murder of unborn babies is wrong and should be stopped. If I offend an abortion doctor, by golly, that's not my problem. And quite frankly, I should be flattered that my opinion means so much to him that he should even feel the need to take offence.

Listen, we're not taking other Gay rights away by voting No. We're not making it illegal to be gay by voting no on prop 5. Just like I'm not outlawing abortion by simply BELIEVING OPENLY that it is wrong. (I do believe abortion should be illegal.. but that's for other reasons.. and rights of the child... etc...). I believe homosexuality is a freedom and a choice that should only effect the person who is making that choice. When it crosses the line into other people's personal lives (including private businesses), that's when they have the right to make a choice to participate and/or facilitate that behavior or not. IF the state was denying gays rights, like the ability to vote or get health care, I would have an issue with that. But this is no, AT ALL about gay rights. This is about ours.

Cuff me. Sue me. Stomp me down. I have constitutional rights just like you.

VOTE NO ON PROP 5!

Respect me not.

An inspiration has come upon me recently to recover an old lesson from my past. One that I'm sure troubles many up coming young Christians. Respect is becoming a lost cause in many households, and children are most often in the center of it. Sometimes they fall short being the respecters, but I'm targeting mostly on homes where there is a lack of respect for the children. Or, more precisely, a lack of loving nourishment and a lack of respect for those entering the adult world.  

There is a deep and sorrowful reality that child abuse is prominently present even within Christian communities. Less so, perhaps, then non-Christian homes. But the fact is that there are hypocrites in every category of God's commandments, including (and almost even especially) in the treatment and relationship parents hold with their children. Raising children is possibly the easiest job at which to screw up. 

Proverbs 22:6 reads "Start children off on the way they should go, and even when they are old they will not part from it." Its no question to us that it is a parents responsibility to raise their children. Of course, some don't even bother or have even been unable to due to other irresponsibly they lacked to uphold. And still, by miracle, there are children who come out of troubling homes and meet Christ. An outstandingly important part of raising your children is teaching them by example. But also, it is important to build a relationship with your child so that they want to follow you. For example, a child who sees their drug addict parent destroy his own life as well and sever the bonds of their relationship is less likely to follow in their careless father's footsteps. 

 "Fathers, do not provoke your children to anger, but bring them up in the discipline and instruction of the lord." 

Ephesians 6:4

Being a Christian child in a home where commandments of Christianity are not prevalent is extremely difficult. 

Most people know of the ten commandments, especially children. Very often, even in non-Christian homes, children are expected to keep one in particular.Exodus 20:12 is a direct command to children, "Honor your father and your mother, so that you may live long in the land the LORD your God is giving you." Something I thought on for years while dealing with my own father was how to establish a balance of respect. When I was young, I didn't need respect, I needed love. However, in my teen years I was becoming more independent and adult-like. I then needed respect in return. It worked out that my father wasn't the kind that I should follow in the footsteps of, like a Proverbs 22:6 dad should be. In fact, he derived much joy from making me angry. He was condescending, hurtful, and in a kind of lingering foul temper. He provoked me over and over, every single day. Being a strong willed gal, I was not only grieved by his behavior towards me, but I found myself loathing his vary existence. How could I, a saved young woman of God, respect a man of such despicable behavior? Faster than anything, does bitterness grow in the heart. 

At first, I thought that just holding my head up high and sticking it out was the most important part of dealing with my father. Respect was out the window. But it taunted me when I reread Exodus 20 only to find no list of exceptions to God's commandment. So how did the God of the universe expect me, His servant, to respect a man of no respect himself? 

I find that sometimes respect isn't always as we first assume. I couldn't earn his respect. It certainly isn't my job to raise him, nor could I if I tried. I wasn't getting anywhere. I couldn't teach him or just ask him to do better. In fact, if i did, it provoked him even further. That's when I realized something huge. With my particular father, "respect" looked like avoiding conflict. Though, I wasn't the instigator of our conflict, I could certainly help avoid it by eliminating the part of me that provoked him into it. Parents who do not understand their bounds and responsibly of raising a teenager can not be taught by their teenagers. Only God can mend their hearts. This does not excuse the teenagers of keeping the commandment that is directed towards them in Exodus. In fact, it just means they are commanded to give the hardest kind of respect to give. This kind of respect involves creating peace at all costs.

Sometimes, it could be submitting graciously to outrageously controlling parents by respecting their wishes without rebelling or overly complaining. Sometimes its creating a distance from a parent who sins against you regularly. When these disrespectful parents aren't doing their jobs, its the Christian teen's job to act as the adult. Seek council, dive into the scriptures, and do the right thing (not to mention, the hardest thing.) For me, I had to keep my distance as much as possible. To this day I still do. Can my father provoke me to anger? No. Do I find it easier to respect him when he's not around to disrespect me? Yes.