Miracle Birth Story from Rebecca Mudrick

My first pregnancy was an eventful one. It began with a huge oops (!!!) I’m pregnant moment and the surprises, twists and turns never seemed to stop.

Every few weeks I’d end up in the hospital for one reason or another and thankfully each visit always ended well. Contractions were stopped. Tests were reassuring. We were counting our blessings, but we were also starting to feel a bit sheepish about our frequent trips to the labor and delivery unit and I was starting to feel like it was all much ado about nothing.

Just three days after a routine OB visit and right around 33 weeks gestation, I woke in the night with bleeding. We called my OB and headed back to the hospital again. Doctors couldn’t explain the bleeding – which had stopped – and sent me home. They encouraged me to follow up with my OB the next day. I rolled my eyes and promised I would.

My OB was out of town and so my follow up visit was – simply by default - with a high-risk specialist. He was wonderfully kind, and spent a lot of time with me. He carefully reviewed my history and told me that he had no idea why I had been bleeding, but he wasn’t concerned about that so much as his suspicion that our baby wasn’t growing well. He wanted me in for a growth ultrasound the next day. Okay. Another problem. Another ultrasound. We were getting used to this. It would all check out to be fine. No problem.

The ultrasound tech was quiet as he took the measurements and the specialist confirmed that our baby was not growing. The baby was showing signs of stress and measuring very small for his gestational age. We left the office nervous but hopeful that all would be well, as was the pattern during my pregnancy. But just two days later I woke up with a sure knowledge that I would deliver that night. I went to the grocery store, made meals to freeze, caught up on laundry and cleaned the apartment. I went to my first appointment for fetal monitoring and was perfectly calm as the tech told me to go immediately to the hospital for an emergency induction. The baby's kidneys had shut down and he was experiencing serious heart decelerations. We needed to launch a rescue mission before it was too late.

The labor was precarious - the baby kept everyone on their toes. But after 8 crazy hours, I delivered a very gray 3 lb 7 oz baby boy. He was bigger then we expected and we were elated with his safe arrival. We held him for a few minutes and then he was gone. It would be many days before we would hold him again.

The nurses in the NICU wanted to know our baby's name. His name? The names we had been considering (more like arguing over, ha!) didn't fit. We struggled with the task and decided to ask God to help us choose a name that was strong and meaningful. A day later I was sitting in the NICU, talking to my half-cooked baby boy and I called him Joshua. Joshua. Hmmm ... I brought it up over lunch with my husband who said he had also thought of the name Joshua that day. We immediately looked the name up in a baby name book and learned that Joshua means "God Saves". A very appropriate name indeed.

Joshua's NICU stay was a short 2 weeks. Miraculously, all the pre-term labor had stressed the baby and as a result his lungs were well developed. The unexplained bleeding had sent me to the OB long before I was due for another check up and I have no doubt we would have lost the baby by my next appointment. Joshua is our miracle baby - our "boy who lived" and 9 years later we continue to thank God for his safe arrival.

From Rebecca Mudrick of Overexposed.

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Note from Design Mom: for the duration of my pregnancy, I'll be posting advice, memories and stories about pregnancy, childbirth, adoption and growing a family on Wednesdays. You can find them all by clicking here. I'd love to hear your story or memory or advice, feel free to submit it to gabrielle@designmom.com.