Second Birthda-Isaiah Christofer Eisenhour-A Story of God’s Goodness

I found out that Isaiah was on his way when Noah was ten months old, we had been pretty much leaving our family planning up to God. It wasn’t a surprise, nor was it planned. It was good no matter what. My due date looked to be around Dec. 17-oh fun a Christmas baby. I went to the doctor for my first appointment, she wanted a sono to check dates. There was only a sac and no baby. So, I cried myself home and held my chin up. We went back a week later to find a little piece of rice in the sac and it appeared to have something else, but smaller, at this point no mentioned twins, so I didn’t think anything about it. A month later I went to another appt, I measured 12 wks and was only 9 wks. No mention of twins or anything else other then the fact that I shouldn’t eat much as I didn’t want a big baby. I got that a lot from this doctor, and I had gotten tired of it, I talked to my husband about the strong urge to switch doctors, and we did.

My new doctor wanted to see me at 12 wks. He measured me and asked if I always measure so BIG (16wks) so EARLY. No, not normally. We scheduled a sono for 16 wks. It showed only one definite baby, but doctor wasn’t entirely convinced. Baby measured 18 weeks 4 days, I measured 21 wks. The rest of the pregnancy went fairly smoothly. I did the normal flirting with pre-eclampsia, that I tend to, but all in all it was not horrible for the most part. At my 22 week sono my doctor chose to move the due date to December 11 with a plan to induce on Dec. 1. (my last baby was 10 lbs 7 oz, and this baby wasn‘t small) My weight gain was only 13 lbs by now, so it was good.

Towards the end of my pregnancy I spilled a bit of protein and my blood pressure was riding a bit high. We talked over the risk of trying to get to the Dec. 1 d day. We decided to pray over it and come back in two weeks. That was my last appointment. At my 34 week appointment I measured 46 weeks, and the baby was transverse and my doctor was not comfortable with me getting any closer to December 1. I begged for two more weeks to give baby a chance to not need extra help. He gave it to me and insisted that I get my protein and bp checked 3 times a day.

On Saturday God spoke to me and told me I was having a c-section-now if you know me, there is no way, I would walk into the office, hospital, or anywhere else and announce that I was prepared to have a c-section. I was not going to, and God and I wrestled this around for the better part of this day. When hubby came home, I told him he had better prepared himself, because it didn’t appear God wanted me to change his plans. He was ready to load me up and carry me off to the Looney bin. The day before I was to be admitted it got pretty bad. Hubby and I had made plans to go to the chiropractor one last time to try and help this little man get head down, then we went to Texas Roadhouse (YUM), and then to our hotel room.

I had a terrible time sleeping, and was very agitated. At around 4 am, November 15, I decided to ease my mind and try and do a kick count. The only problem was, there were no kicks in over an hour. I woke hubby and told him we needed to go now. He tried to tell me to relax, but I wouldn’t, so he said well let’s go on over and see what they will do. When we walked into the birth center, I told the nurse at the desk that I tried to do a kick count, but baby wouldn’t kick, and that I didn’t remember baby kicking since 9 pm the night before.

All the sudden she got us to a room, and got me all set on the monitors, then she left, and my room was FULL of people. Medical students, on floor doctor, and about 5 nurses. I was having some VERY mild contractions,. However, with every contraction, baby’s heart rate dropped a little, and didn’t come back. They did a sono and found that baby was transverse, ha, imagine that. My doctor was called, and next thing I know I am in a wheel chair, and they are wheeling through the birth center, into a tunnel, that goes under a parking garage, over to the hospital on the high risk floor. My doctor meets us there, and does another sono. He decides to try one last thing to get baby into position-external version-more or less squeezing my belly to push baby into a head down position. Because baby, is not really doing too great, he can not push baby or his heart rate drops. Baby isn’t budging and his heart rate is not doing too good, not horrid, but definitely lower then any of my appointments. Baby is laying down in the pelvis on his back, the cord appears to be coming from behind his head-question is-is the cord wrapped up and tangled? Doctor, looks at me and says we have two options-option one, you go home and pray. Option 2, you stay here, pray and I get an OR room ready for your before your baby gets himself in any dire straits. Well, you guessed it, I chose option two with many tears, and my husbands jaw gracing the floor.

So, doctor checks OR availability and comes back to say they are very busy. However, his phone rings shortly thereafter, while he is just watching the monitors, and they have a room ready. I had been prepped, and had called three people to get a prayer chain going through each of them to different groups. I was a bit of a basket case, and doctor needed me to calm down, so he gave me a “little something to help me relax”.

They took me back to the OR, and got my spinal./epidural, and I passed out and about hit the floor. Not cool. So, they lay me down at which point I start to get very agitated again-I don’t handle the spinal so hot. They get everything ready and are ready to start when alarms start going off, my blood pressure is all over, give me some medication and I finally start feeling a little more ok. He starts to go after the baby and says

“Hey, I found his butt, now where is his head” , “oh, there’s his feet”.

I am not in a very good mood and tell him,

” You just cut a hole in my stomach and you had better find the baby’s head NOW.”

The whole room busts up laughing and I start crying and then it is pretty much silence.
He finds baby’s head and gets baby out, at 9:51 am, he is a gorgeous, 8 lb 4 oz 36 wk bundle of boy. Dh is holding him, and they put me all back together. They are ready to move me to recovery. And we find out that moving me at ALL is not a good thing. Three people are carrying puke buckets. They get me settled and I threaten them if they move me I will vomit all over them. They left me alone, but not long enough. I nursed him, and held him. Then we are moved to the room we will stay in. Again puke buckets everywhere, because you don’t want to move this mama after surgery.

I am quite anemic, so, once I can eat they start giving me iron. I start to feel icky, so I take a nap. All seems ok, and a friend comes for a visit, and we chat. Then, they give me another does of iron, and I dose off for a bit. Brad realizes I am about to vomit before I even wake up. Rushes over with a bucket and I keep at it for a time. He calls the nurse, who get a bit concerned, and calls another nurse. By this time, my iv is out and they have to start another one to get me hydrated and to give me some medication, then they check my incision which has had two areas that pulled loose through the vomiting. My doctor comes in and steri strips me back together, and we decide no more iron.

We get to go home the next day, and are very ready to introduce Isaiah to all his siblings. The van ride is not a lot of fun. Bouncing down the road after having a 9-10 inch incision in your abdomen is not good. Yes, because of his position I had a huge incision. We get home and pick up our other children. They are all excited and instantly in love.

Believe it or not, we host Thanksgiving a week after Isaiah is born. Crazy, but better then driving all over the area for meals.
We get a new routine going and then we have Christmas, and company from North Carolina, and all the hustle and bustle of that. Our oldest develops cold like symptoms on December 30, and then on Jan. 1 he is much sicker and our 2 year old wakes with extreme hives and a VERY swollen face. We rush to the ER. By weeks end everyone but, the baby, myself and daddy are sick. By, Jan. 3 they all are getting better. Jan. 4 I wake with Isaiah to find him a little warm, take his temp and it is 101.3. I wait for my husband to get up and we go to the doctor. We are given orders to come home and keep the house humid and watch him closely. By, Jan. 7, I am very worried and we return to the doctor, who prescribes abuterol nebulizer treatments, and wants us back the next day. We go back, and I am packed for a stay in the hospital. Isaiah is much worse. He does admit us, tests him for RSV, and we are there until Jan. 10. He recovers, but I am still not comfortable how he is doing.
As the weeks go on, I notice that he is thin. I take and weigh him here locally, and find that he is 3 oz less then he was when discharged. I call the pediatrician’s office and we are seen immediately with lots of labs done. He is now classified as failure to thrive, and then labs show he has sugar malabsorption. He has very odd stools, and a horrid diaper rash. The treatment is a waiting game, as it is directly related to the medication he received during is bout of RSV. He recovers, and again starts gaining weight very slowly.

In May we find out we are again expecting a new blessing. He is still nursing 100%, so I slowly start him on solids, and he does well. We enjoy our first summer and he is growing, though small for his age.

Summer moves into fall, and he has his first birthday. We made it, God is GOOD and we have toddler number three.

Baby is born, and we all come home. Again we fight numerous illnesses, but we bounce back from each until… Again we have RSV. Much latter this time-it is April, and both little ones have it. At one point Isaiah is by far the sickest. He heals from that, and we again move to another season. Summer, and the first day of summer, which happens to be the first day of wheat harvest, he brings it in with a bang… Breaks his leg jumping off a toddler picnic table. He gets a blue cast, and has to wear it for 5 weeks. Time goes by we get it off, and he is doing good. A tiny child running around with a cast is quite a sight. It never slowed him down. To celebrate him getting his cast off we go to a water park. Sorry, no pictures, but believe me, he had FUN.

Summer gives way to fall, and it is nice and calm, nothing major for any of us. That is the way we like it. So, now we are at a milestone…Isaiah Christofer Eisenhour is 2!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Happy Birthday Little Buddy Saiah as he is nicknamed. May God continue to work in your life, and may you grow to know him as your heavenly Father who is always with you, never leaving you to be alone.