At 5:08, I saw God today...

So, who knew that there was something even smaller than a preemie? No one ever talks about a micro preemie in everyday conversation, until you have one. Then for months that will be the only topic that you can think of. 

September 19, 2011... A memory that I only see in a blur of pain and tears. A mix of agony, anticipation, and excitement. I was twenty-five weeks pregnant with a child that I had tried for years to conceive. She was an unexpected miracle that had already overcome so much just to be. At this point she was still just she because in my mind there was no need to rush the name picking. I had fifteen more weeks to shop, pick names, choose decor, and prepare for the arrival of my baby. I didn't have a hospital bag packed and waiting at the door. There was no birth plan written down. I had not even had a baby shower. There was still time for all that. On that September morning, when I woke up with sharp shooting pain, I knew that all that time I thought I had, may not come. As I made my way to the Army hospital in Hawaii, I was running through the hundreds of scenarios on how the day and upcoming months could play out. And then I prayed. In labor and delivery it was discovered that I was already dilated to five centimeters. The nurses and doctors did everything that they could and tried every possible option to hold off delivering her. 

“Even just a few days can make the difference between life and death" they would say. 

DEATH?? That wasn't part of my plan, and luckily it wasn't part of God's plan either. At 5:08pm, after a very rough twelve hours, she made her grand entrance. Not crying and kicking and pink like most babies, but just as beautiful to me. I will spare you the details of what the next ten minutes held for us both. Intubation and CPR of a baby that weighs under two pounds isn't for the faint of heart. And labor is just, well, gross. (when people tell you labor and delivery of a baby is a beautiful thing, they are lying. The baby is the amazing thing, the labor is filled with pain and body fluids... not so beautiful).  The details I will fill you with are ones of amazement at what God and medicine can do.

On that day, at that moment, my life changed in ways that I could never have imagined. It became harder, but more worth it. Busier, but full of life. It also started months of fighting, praying, and struggling. At 5:08pm on September 19, 2011, Gracie Jean entered our world.

The first time I really got to see Gracie, she was intubated and attached to wires and machines. I was in a wheel chair and still in a fog at what had happened. I was wheeled into the NICU and shown the tiniest baby. The nurses were telling me all the little medical details, but all I remember from that moment was how scared I was. I was already so in love with this tiny little girl, she held my whole heart, and I didn't know if she would make it through the next twenty-four hours. 

But this one, she was feisty. She was not going down without a fight. The first day came and went, and the second and the third... and she was beating the odds. She was fighting the battle. She was winning. 

Despite all the things that I had been told could be wrong with her if she survived, I had faith that she would overcome them. I knew I was her biggest ally. I decided that crying or being sad would only bring her down. I promised myself that no matter what, I would not cry in that NICU. 

Day of life six was the first major setback. It was discovered that she had a hole in her intestine. She immediately went in for surgery, She had to be re-intubated and put to sleep. I prayed. My family prayed. People around the world that I had never met prayed. And it worked, she pulled through like a champ. 

Over the next few months we had our ups and downs. The NICU was a roller coaster of emotion. We spent Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas there. During our time she overcame a multitude of issues ranging from bacterial meningitis, blood transfusion, eye problems, an abscess on her liver, kidney issues, an inability to wean off of the smallest amount of O2, and a scare with RSV. She was poked and tested daily. She still has the scars to prove it. So do I. My scars are not the physical kind. Mine are much deeper rooted. My scars make themselves known when I think of having another baby or when I hear of a mom delivering too early. They manifest in a fear that shoots through my entire body when she coughs or the feeling of dread at having to take her back to a doctor or hospital. The wounds left on me are the ones of a mother that never wants to have to see her baby suffer like she did for those months in the NICU. 

It has been said that every cloud has a silver lining. Our stay at Tripler was no different. We had the most amazing doctors and nurses. Many of whom I am still in contact with. I will never be able to let them know enough how thankful I am that they were there. They all made us feel so welcomed and included. They never spoke down to me as if they were smarter than I was. They all told me from day one that I am her mother and I will always know her best, so speak my mind freely. They also dealt with moodiness and emotions from parents and handled it so gracefully.One of the hardest parts of the NICU is leaving your baby with someone instead of taking her home. I was so lucky that I had such amazing people to care for her. I met friends, people who shared our journey with us and learned side by side the pain and terror that the NICU can bring. 

There was a baby, Douglas, that was just as small and sick as Gracie. His mom and I became good friends and depended on each other more than we ever thought possible. A few years ago we were able to reunite the kids again and we both cried at how far they had come. They are strangers who became family and for them I will be forever grateful.

Weeks after Gracie was born, I was heading to the hospital, just like I did every day. The radio was on the only country station Hawaii offered. George Strait’s familiar voice started to sing a song that I had heard a million times, and suddenly I was covered in goosebumps and crying. I knew then that God had a great plan for my little miracle, He had known it from day one.... the moment she was conceived.

The flashing lights, the honking horns, all seem to fade away, but in the shadow of the hospital at 5:08, I saw God today....