For the life of me I can’t find the connection
between a first-born child and open-heart surgery.
But I experienced both within 10 days just a
couple months ago.
Which brings me to a bit of an announcement. On
June 8, 2014 Jessica and I welcomed Reade Edwin into the world—five weeks
early, beating us to the punch on picking a pediatrician and a name.
We learned of both baby and leaky heart valve last
fall. The valve news came in September by way of a routine screening that I had
asked for. The baby news came in November by way of a stick. Actually two
sticks. We couldn’t believe our eyes.
Jessica and I had casually talked about family and
had intended to have a “serious” conversation on the subject. Well, we never
had that conversation, and now we don’t have to. At our first official OB/GYN
visit last December a due date of July 15 was set.
With regard to the leaky valve, I had asked, as
part of my 50,000 mile check up, and on advice from bro-in-law Rick, for a
baseline stress echocardiogram (“echo”). I’ve had no symptoms and truly was
expecting to establish nothing but a heart function baseline. I now have a new
question I will never forget, posed to me by the cardiologist who was called
into the room by the tech in mid screening: “You know you have this leaky
valve, right?” Uhh, no. I do now. The doctor indicated that the leak would
simply be something to be monitored, assuring me that only 10 percent of leaky
valves need treatment. And of course, at my first official cardiologist
appointment a few weeks later we learned that I was in the 10 percent. It was
measuring as a “severe” leak and treatment was a matter of “when,” not “if,”
sooner rather than later (with “treatment” being open-heart surgery). Our
knee-jerk thinking was to wait until after our delivery date in that the leak
wasn’t an emergency. But a couple second opinions and an opening at the clinic
at the University of Michigan (where my cardiologist wanted to send me; and btw, if you are in need of cardiology in the Middletown area, I would highly recommend Gary Brown, MD, and his great team) pointed
to a date before Reade’s due date. We scheduled the surgery for May 30, a date
that would accommodate a 30-day recovery with a two-week buffer before the July
15 due date.
So I spent about six weeks contemplating my life
as a younger-than-usual heart patient and an older-than-usual new dad. When
people joked with me about being an older dad they would unknowingly assure me
with something like, “Well, at least you’re healthy.” To which I would have to
say, “Well, let me share something with you.”
Thankfully, after successful valve repair surgery,
and thanks to the world class skills of surgeon Stephen Bolling and his world
class team, led by his amazing nurse Marguerite, I am healthy.
And not a moment too soon.
Within minutes of being discharged from the
University of Michigan Medical Center, while working on my prescriptions list
in our hospital hotel room, Jessica began experiencing some alarming pre-labor
symptoms. Her OB/GYN in Ohio said, “Well, I know the University of Michigan has
a great labor and delivery department. I’ve seen it. Go ahead and have them
check you out.”
My mom and dad, the blessed Bonnie and Miles,
phoned my sister and her husband, the blessed Beck and Rick, who had just left
the facility to head home. They made a U-turn. We called our newest best
friend, my nurse Marguerite, who had championed me through my entire surgery
process. Rick came back to our room to pick up Jessica in a wheelchair.
Marguerite met them in the hotel lobby to wheel Jessica to labor and delivery.
I laid on my bed in the hotel room like a slug. It
was my only way to help. (Bonus points to you if you get that reference.)
After the labor/delivery folks monitored Jessica
for several hours, we learned that she was having contractions, was dilated one
centimeter and had a possible placental abruption. So, they admitted her.
My thought, as I lay in the hotel room like a slug:
This can’t be happening.
But it was.
It was a harrowing thought to realize that if our
baby was born at that time that I would not be able to do one thing to help or
support. If he would happen to be over 10 pounds (though unlikely), I wouldn’t
even be able to lift him for 30 days.
Jessica, after having been admitted on Monday
(June 2) was discharged on Wednesday, giving us two days of great care in yet
another of the University of Michigan’s great health centers. She made best
friends out of all her docs which included Dr. Breed (I know! Great OB/GYN
name) who looked like a 12-year old kid (but a very gifted OB), and
Dr. Berman who came to U of M on a gymnastics scholarship, attended medical
school there and stayed and who constantly asked Jessica “Who ARE you?” as she
learned more about Jessica’s career and accomplishments. We were asking the same question of her as we learned of her career and accomplishments. The two-day stay also
included a visit from Marguerite and Dr. Bolling, my healthcare team.
We left the University of Michigan on Thursday,
and Reade, probably in a move to hold out until we crossed the Ohio line, was
born on Sunday.
With me still unable to drive, we had our dear
friends and neighbors, David and Angie Miller, drive us to the hospital after
Jessica’s contractions began. David is a urologist and Angie is a nurse. We
were in good hands. We left for the hospital around 9:30 p.m. Reade entered this world at 11:46 p.m. Yep,
that quick. And he weighed five pounds, six ounces, thoughtfully coming in a
good four pounds under my lift limit.
Arriving five weeks early, Reade was soon taken to
the neo-natal intensive care unit (NICU) where, because of his prematurity, he
could be monitored for any complications. Thankfully, these were few, probably
because of the great care (and two steroid shots to Jessica to help Reade’s
lungs) at the University of Michigan.
While the NICU stay did mean that we were now
spending extra days at the hospital, it also meant getting exposed to some of
the kindest, wisest, gentlest, best-all-around-est people on the planet: NICU
nurses.
But you know, as I ponder the connection between
these two watershed life events, open-heart surgery and a newborn, here’s what
I got so far (admittedly, it’s pretty simple): it’s the strengthening of our
receiving and giving muscles by deepening our connections with people. The NICU
nurses were actually the lead band in a parade of the kindest, wisest,
gentlest, best-all-around-est people on the planet. Jessica and I had a
curbside seat. We saw kindness and wisdom and gentleness we would not have
otherwise seen, and we saw it from a position of flat on our backs. All of us sometimes
find ourselves in that position, times when we can do nothing but lay there
like a slug. We have to depend. To rely upon. To, and this is the kicker, lose
control. This causes us to engage emotional and spiritual muscles that we seldom
use. I’m convinced that the more we exercise our receiving muscles, the more we
fire up our giving muscles. Then as we become more upright, we can’t wait to
give. And it’s a deeper, better give.
Throughout this stretch I have said several times to myself, sometimes out loud: “I can’t believe how giving people are.” We’ve had: Neighbors mowing our lawn, friends organizing meals, guy friends throwing me a “diaper” shower at a local pub (we have a wall full of diapers and a shelf full of “toys your kids liked when you were a new dad”, girl friends throwing bi-coastal showers for Jessica and setting us for life in baby gear, our families stepping up in countless ways (like my mom and sister taking the night shift several nights a week!), friends bringing food to us in the baby hospital, friends making the trip to Michigan to visit us in the heart hospital, lactation nurses inspiring us with new levels of persistence, labor and post-partum nurses in the Dayton hospital making sure I’m doing okay, heart surgery nurses in the Michigan hospital making sure that Jessica is doing okay, my heart surgeon and nurse visiting Jessica in the labor department, Reade’s neonatologist and nurses making sure I was getting rest (and watching my coffee intake). We even made an unexpected friend out of my hospital roommate (both of us had asked about the availability of private rooms).
Over the past couple of weeks I’ve been pondering what God might be trying to teach us—if anything (everything doesn’t have to be a lesson)—through these concurrent life events. Then this happened. A few days ago, the day I started writing this post, I took my first “normal” bike ride—no babying of the heart and pushing as hard as I wanted. While on the final leg, a near-professional bike rider, all decked out in the latest gear with more logos than a NASCAR car, went zooming past. As he passed he said, “Did you see those deer back there?” To which I said, “No! How did I miss that?!” I mean really, how could I miss that? I quickly turned, and there in the edge of the woods, two doe. And two fawns.
Then, as if to put a giant exclamation point on
the whole deal, as if to leave no doubt that God is up to something in all
this, later that evening Jessica and I saw one of the biggest, boldest rainbows
we’ve seen in a long time. I haven’t had a deer/rainbow combo since June 2011,
the week Jessica and I met.
If you are new to this blog, this deer story post [click here] will help bring you up to speed on why these sightings of a deer and rainbow are significant. (Strangely, I don’t think I ever wrote a post about the rainbow story, but just directed folks to the newspaper story, which is no longer active. So, rainbow post coming soon. Meanwhile, if you search "rainbow" on this blog you will get some good background.) Simply put, I am in a blessed position (whether flat on my back or upright) to experience new life and a repaired heart, a heart that was broken in more ways than one.
Thank you for journeying along.
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