July 29, 2004
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July 29, 2004
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I originally thought this site would only be seen by people who already knew the whole story of what happened the night that Sam was born, but so many of our friends and family members have sent it on, sending "prayer ripples" all over the world.  Keep it going - he has quite a story to tell!  Anyway, I've gotten quite a few questions about what actually went wrong that night, and there's an awful lot that went right as well, so, if you're interested, here is the whole story.  At least the way I understand it; I wasn't awake for much of it. 
That day...
Well, Sam was born at around 6:50 pm on July 29, 2004.  As you know from the picture, I was ENORMOUS.  We all expected him to be born earlier, since Ben was 3 weeks early and I was ENORMOUS.  Did I mention ENORMOUS?  Anyway, I had some pretty strong contractions for a couple of weeks, but Sam still wasn't quite ready.  I was due to be induced on August 1 if he wasn't born by then, but when the contractions didn't let up all night, we went to the hospital, and they decided to induce me on July 29. 
 
We got there about 6 am, and by afternoon labor was pretty intense.  It was all pretty normal, I guess, but incredibly painful.  I got an epidural, which helped, but not completely.  (With Ben, the epidural blocked all my pain until just about an hour or so before he was born.  Not so this time.)    There were a few times when the midwife said that his heartrate was dropping, but rolling over to one side fixed that and so we didn't think there was anything to worry about.
 
When she said we needed to do this by C-section, I still didn't worry.  I figured they did this sort of thing all the time, and tried to reassure Tim that it was all routine.  We went to the OR and they started to put me under.  My doctor wasn't there (I'm not sure why) so they had to call in the on-call obstetrician.  I remember hearing the midwife say "Tell him not to scrub up; just get him in here" and I remember thinking that was probably a pretty bad sign, but I was on my way to unconsciousness. 
 
that night...
When I woke up, there was a huge crowd around me.  All looking terribly upset and worried.  Tim was there, of course, but also my mom, who had been watching Ben and wasn't supposed to be there.  Our pastor was there, my mom and dad's pastor was there, and too many doctors to count.  I was told again and again that no one could explain what happened, it was just too unusual.  That they were all so glad I was okay and what a relief that was. 
 
And that what happened with the baby was just so sad and horrible and they were all so very sorry.  The neonatologist had tears in his eyes when he told me. 
 
I didn't have any idea what was going on.  I knew the baby had been sent by helicopter to a different hospital an hour away.  And I knew he had been baptized before he left, and that Tim had named him "Samuel Judge Anderson", which was my vote in the big name debate.   He was 9 pounds 14 ounces, which is crazy-big, almost unheard of for a baby. 
 
I also knew that the doctors didn't hold out much hope for him.  That didn't register with me at all, so I can't really say that I "knew" that.  I guess I just heard them say that.   One of the nurses gave me a blanket - so I'd have something to remember him by. 
 
I know now that the doctors came out and told Tim during surgery that neither of us was going to make it.    My uterus had ruptured during delivery, which is something that hardly ever happens.  When it does happen, it is almost exclusively to women who have had C-sections before, and I haven't.  It causes a good deal of blood loss, and leaves the baby "free-floating" and without oxygen.  I guess it sort of is like drowning.  From what I understand, those babies just don't survive.  Except Sam did.
 
the miracles begin...
Quite a few things happened that saved us that night, and we don't believe they were just coincidences.  The hospital had their "A-team" of surgical staff actually on the premises, which apparently never happens.  The doctor wasn't there yet, but everybody else was, and we couldn't have survived waiting for the rest of the team to arrive.  During all of the chaos, my kidneys shut down, but inexplicably just kicked back in again.  The doctor told my mom that he really didn't know how he had pulled me through, and said that God had saved me.   When they put Sam in the helicopter, a terrible thunderstorm was in the works and they thought they couldn't take off.  Then the clouds opened up a clear path just from Tarpon Springs to Tampa, and they were able to go right away. We live about an hour away (via car) from a level 4 trauma hospital, which is one of only 4 in the state. 
 
That was a Thursday night, and Sam was miraculously off of the ventilator by Friday morning.  I was out of the hospital by Sunday, although they wanted to keep me longer to pump me full of antibiotics (because of the no hand-washing thing) but I needed to get out and see my baby.  (It was crazy waking up no longer pregnant but with no baby there.)  I found out later that Sam's umbillical cord was tied in a knot when they got to him; that alone was enough to kill him.  Yet it didn't. 
 
As I've said before, you just don't survive all of this for no good reason.  I've stressed over the fact that I recovered so quickly and Sam has this battle ahead of him, but I know I couldn't have survived what he has.  So many things conspired to go wrong, and so many things conspired to go right and pull us through.   There is no other explanation except that God had his hands on us and the doctors that night.  (And you'll never completely convince me that the 4 hurricanes which aimed for us - and missed us - weren't personal!)
 
So there you have it.  The miracles started that night, and haven't stopped yet. We know there are still so many to come, and that God has something so powerful in store for Sam.   Thank you for helping us to pray him through this.  We know that God is healing him every minute!