The NEXT pregnancy story

So I've told you all about the accident that sent us to the hospital while I was 16 weeks pregnant with my first son. Now let me tell you the story of our second son.

After I passed the 16 week mark with this pregnancy, I heaved a huge sigh of relief. Not only had I passed that mark with nothing happening, but we even went to that Bethel Baptist church the very week that I was 16 weeks pregnant. (They were having a "Trunk or Treat" night for Halloween that we took our oldest to.) According to my plans, everything would be fine from here on out.

Boy, was I wrong!

The Saturday before my mother-in-law's birthday, we were at home doing normal Saturday things; Hubby was going to get a desk to set up in our living room for our computer that we needed to move out of the new baby's room, and I was trying to get some cleaning done but not really accomplishing much. I was in pain, but couldn't pinpoint what or why.

When I'm not pregnant, I deal with a little thing called IBS, or Irritable Bowel Syndrome. I will not say "suffer" (although it does feel that way sometimes!) because I know that there are people out there that have it a lot worse than me, and I would never knowingly make light of something that serious. I thought, when I first started feeling bad, that this was just an IBS attack, and it would eventually pass. I took some medication for gas that was safe to take during pregnancy and laid down on the couch. I asked Hubby to get the boy a sandwich so that I didn't have to get up, and he went on his way to get the desk.

When he got home, the pain was worse. I just couldn't get comfortable to save my life! Since Hubby was trying to put together the desk and the boy was trying to "help" him, Hubby got frustrated. That was my cue to take the boy upstairs for a nap. I told Hubby that I was going to lay down too; maybe trying to lie in the bed would be more comfortable. I was wrong!

About 2 that afternoon, I finally broke down and called my OB/GYN and spoke with the nurse on call. After describing my symptoms, (upper stomach pain and just general not feeling well) she suggested that I go to the ER and get checked out. This, I thought, was major overkill. I knew it wasn't the baby; the pain was WAY too high for that, so I waited a little longer. When I couldn't deal with the pain anymore, we packed up the boy, called my mother to meet us there and were on our way. The whole way there I kept thinking, "just tell him to turn around, you're being a hypochondriac!", but with every bump in the road, the searing pain would hit me afresh and I kept my mouth shut.

Thank God that I did!

When I got to the hospital, the first thing they wanted to do was send me to Labor & Delivery. I had to argue with the triage nurse for a bit just to get seen in the ER. I knew I wasn't in labor, and I knew that the baby was in no danger. IN retrospect, I may have been seen by a Dr. sooner if I HAD gone to L&D, but I didn't think about that then.

When I got into a cubicle, they came and drew blood, and then we waited. An hour later, I saw the first of several doctors. This one told me that the blood work came back with an elevated white blood cell count, which usually means infection of some kind. The first thing that crossed my mind was my appendix, but since the pain was across my upper abdomen and not in the right lower quadrant, I waited. She gave me pain medication and left. Another hour passed, and when the pain meds started to wear off, the pain had radiated to where it should be for appendicitis. I was so disgusted! The next doctor came in and asked me some questions; I had just had my gall bladder out that February, and I told him the name of the Dr. that did it. He decided to call that particular Dr., and when HE showed up a half an hour later in his street clothes, Hubby got nervous. He told me later that he realized that it was serious if the surgeon showed up after hours. (Hubby works in a hospital)

Speaking to the surgeon, we really had no options but surgery. I couldn't have an MRI because I was pregnant, and we could have done an ultrasound, but 95% of the time they come back as false negatives, and it would take 4 hours for them to do the test as they were backed up that night. He said he'd rather get in there and be wrong than have my rupture while waiting and possibly lose the baby or lose both of us. I told him to cut away!

All in all, pregnant and having an appendectomy, I was in the hospital for less than 24 hours, including ER time. They were able to do it laprascopically, and I have a beautiful picture of my uterus at 18 weeks gestation! They had to cut me in odd places to work around the pregnancy, but I'm still here and my son was born 20 weeks later, big beautiful and healthy. At my post-op appointment with the surgeon, he was comfortable enough at that point to tell me that he was surprised at how bad my appendix had gotten. It was about half an hour away from rupturing.

Thanks be to God that I didn't listen to myself when I thought I was being a baby!

The next chapter

So, now I've told you about the horrible accident that we were in. That was May of 2004, and I was 16 weeks pregnant with my first son. God miraculously spared us from severe harm; we all survived, and God continued to bless us. Let me tell you about the phone call that we received just two days after the accident.

On Monday, I came home from the hospital. Now, as anyone who has actually been IN the hospital can attest, it's not really a place to get rest, especially a head trauma pregnant woman. They keep waking you up to make sure that you can, and to check the baby and make sure he's OK, too. Like I said, no rest! So when we got home, I could actually sleep and rest.

After resting for a bit, I called Bethel Baptist church. I wanted to let them know we were OK, and thank them for everything that they did. Let me rewind a tad, here. After the men that got to us first pulled us out of the car, people rushed to "duty". Our car landed on it's top in the road right between the two driveways of the church, so there were people directing traffic in and out of the parking lot so that the rescue vehicles could get to us and so that traffic kept going.

Of the many people that helped us, three beautiful souls come to my mind. I don't know their names, but one man introduced himself as a nurse (we found out later that he was actually a Corpsman in the Navy), one younger man introduced himself as an EMT, and the blonde lady was just there, shaking as hard as she could, using her water bottle, pouring fresh water over my mangled hand to wash it as best she could. I'll never forget how she shook!

Small tangent here, but let me just say how marvelous our God is! This was no accident, folks! These people were put there specifically for my husband and me, no question in my mind! Not just one medical professional, but two! What's even more miraculous is what we were told by the EMT. He usually went to church with his dad somewhere else, but just felt like coming there with his mom that day. Praise God that he was there!

Back to the phone call. When I called the church, the receptionist that answered was ecstatic that I'd called. Apparently, she had been deluged with calls about us wanting to know if we were OK. She asked if there was anything that they could do for us. I told her that if they knew of anyone selling a car, we were in the market for one, as we had just totalled ours. Actually, because of financial problems at the time, the car we wrecked was not ours, it belonged to my father. We were out a car now, and this was a problem.

On Tuesday, our phone rang. Hubby answered it, and by his nervous laugh, I knew something was up. When he hung up the phone, he rushed over to me, put his head in my lap and said, "they want to give us a car!" There was a young couple a little older than us that had just had a second child and needed a new vehicle. They had already bought one, but hadn't done anything with the old one yet. Yes, folks, I said "give". Not "sell", "give". At that point, though, I really didn't believe it. Not at all.

On Sunday, we went to my parents house. Hubby had arranged to have them come there to the farm because we had no place to park a car with no tags where we live. When they drove up in that car, I think I was still a little in shock. Why would someone do this for total strangers? But here it was. A 1996 Mercury Sable. Free. Ours.

Not only did they give us the car, but they knew it wouldn't pass inspection by the end of that month because of the tires, so they put $200 cash in the glove compartment for new tires. Funny thing was, the car that was wrecked was a 1996 Ford Taurus. Same car, same tires. We had just put new tires on the Ford, and they weren't damaged; remember, we landed upside down! So we were able to use that $200 to pay the "gift tax" to get the car titled and registered.

Thanks be to the God that gives! I'll never forget this, and will tell this story for the rest of my life. My family and I are known as the "ones that lived" there at Bethel. We've been back a few times over the past 4 years, and as big as that church is, they remember us. Amazing.

Tomorrow, I'll try to post the story about my emergency surgery while I was pregnant with my second son! God is all over that one, too!

TJ