Motherhood: Finn's Birth Story

Finn was delivered at 7:01 pm after many things not going right.

At 5 am I arrived at the hospital excited for my first induction. Easy labor day ahead of me. I had my eyelashes done, cozy clothes packed, and a fancy hospital gown purchased. I was ready. The plan was to get the drugs, sit back, and it will be smooth sailing. How wrong I was. And, everything went wrong. After almost 12 hours of hell, the doctor let me start pushing at 9cm because my transition was uncontrollable (my 4th was supposed to be easier!). Everything this delivery was supposed to be easier. Twenty minutes later my last push felt like I could not physically do it. I was mentally and

physically exhausted. I would surely die. In my head, I kept thinking I am going to die and he isn’t out, I need to get him out. But in that last second, with everyone yelling push, I pictured Isaac, Logan, and Madeline and thought ‘I need to push harder, just this one more time, just to try and hope I can live one more day for them’. I HAD to be there for them. He came out. I felt my placenta still inside me and needed to push it out. It was excruciating. The doctor wanted it to come out naturally. But, I couldn’t handle the pain of it. She helped me get it out. I felt a pinch and snap inside me. Not many seconds later there was controlled panic as they realized I was hemorrhaging. This was the 3rd time during his labor I could have died without medical intervention. They saved me again.

All of my other deliveries I held my baby and talked to them right after, an adrenaline bliss that comes over you. That motherhood ‘moment’. 21 minutes later he was still laying on me, my eyes closed, hoping to gain any strength or energy to interact with him. Matt was stroking my hair and took this picture. That triumphant adrenaline after delivery wasn’t there. Just rest. Survival.

He’s my most held baby now.

A week after his birth we got a call from the pediatrician about Finn. His state-wide screening came back and there was something there. We had never had any of our kids flag a screening before this. He had a gene mutation for Cystic Fibrosis, at minimum a carrier, but the other numbers indicated potentially more. I have never learned so much about a disease so quickly. Matt came home a minute after the call and I could barely get the words out between sobs. Life expectancy, frequent doctor visits, pain, and struggle were all keywords that popped out. It was a grueling month-long process going through the diagnosis. We sat in the specialist office and saw other families, years into this battle, fighting for their children. Shirts with uplifting messages about Cystic Fibrosis, posters on the wall for Cystic Fibrosis support groups, uplifting pictures of kids who worked through their CF to accomplish something the rest of us take for granted… we felt terrified. We didn’t want to have to be there. Every Google search and what-if explored and they just kept getting worse. We contacted everyone in our family to let them know the chances that they are also carriers. The day before my birthday, at his final screening the tech told us the numbers, his numbers, that she was recording were off the charts. He must have it. We went home, held each other, and cried.

Two hours later at his appointment, the receptionist asked us for all of our information. They wanted our emails to set us up in the system and give us a portal link for his next appointment. The doctors and nurses put on full hazmat suits to protect the kids with CF as they brought them back from the waiting room. We got back and sat in the room waiting for the official confirmation from the doctor. A nurse, in regular clothes, peaked her head in. She said, "I wanted to tell you immediately, the screening came back, he is only a carrier. He is going to be ok." She closed the door and we just hugged each other and cried. The tech was wrong. He was going to be ok. Every weight lifted off our shoulders. It was the best birthday present I could have ever asked for.

Nothing is worse than feeling helpless like you can’t help save your child. And having that feeling go on and on while you wait for a diagnosis or results is painful. But we were so lucky. That has always been

the end of that journey for us.

Last month Logan was flagged for Lupus or potentially something worse. He has been in pain for years and we couldn’t figure out why. Was it real pain? Behavioral? Why was this happening to our precious baby? There was a false positive on a recent lab test that sent us down a terrible what-if path. We found ourselves back in the specialty clinic, Rheumatology this time, right across the hall from the Cystic Fibrosis clinic we had just visited a few months before. We waited as they had Logan do test after test. After 20 minutes the doctor came in, and again, we were so lucky. She quickly told us he is healthy and too healthy for this clinic. But he does have hypermobility and expected Ehlers Danilos (we are on a 6-month waiting list to get his official diagnosis). His is much more manageable than most and we are so grateful his life will not be significantly impacted. We just tell him that he is super bendy, but please don't bend (this obviously goes well). Thank God. We could breathe again.

Early in their lives, Isaac, Logan, and Madeline all went to the cardiologist. Murmurs at different appointments and stages in their lives flagged them to go in. All 3 have different and unique heart issues that we monitor each year. An atrial septal defect and pulmonary valve stenosis, a bicuspid valve, and a dilated aortic root and PFOs… Those calls, appointments, scans, and waiting. We went through it then too but came out with everything being mostly ok.

So many other parents get these calls and then start walking through the trenches for their babies. And stay in the trenches. Their diagnoses aren’t just watching like we are, but fighting that battle. Taking that next step that we have so often almost had to take, but been granted a pass each time. So many other moms have experienced worse or the unimaginable during delivery.

Labor and delivery, diagnosis, prognosis… motherhood is so much more than the joys shared on social media. I have given so much of myself to my children that in those last moments in Finn's delivery where I felt like it was the end, I fought to live for all of them. Mothers do this without thought every day. Something changes in you the day you become a mom. We wake up for our babies, structure our days around their schedules, hope to give them every bit of confidence, and be there when they’re struggling. When they experience pain that you can't take away or fix for them, it's shattering.

You always hear people say they would die for their kids, but mothers choose to live for them, every day, from that very first day. I don’t ever want to miss a day of it. And I will fight every day to be there for it. I love those happy picture-perfect moments. But motherhood is so much more than that. And I live for ALL of it. Because no matter how hard it is, I need to be there to let them know it’s going to be ok, to fight their battles alongside them, or just be there to let them know they are not alone, even when I’m not ok.

As you see the pictures of the moms and their babies today, know that there is so much more to each photo. So much sacrifice and love that is behind those smiles. There are battles we know nothing about and parents who might be entering the trenches for the first, second, or tenth, time.

Happy Mother’s Day to all of the mothers out there! However motherhood looks for you. It’s not easy but every second, even the unimaginable ones, is worth it a million times over.