Amelia Joy Moody

Make sure you read the previous post (Tuesday, July 19 - Tonight We Are Waiting) before you ready this one.  We had one written that we did not get to post before birth (I hope I did not give this post away...I guess the title did of did anyway).

Sunday July 24^th (more like Monday at 1:23 am)

On Saturday, July 23^rd, 2011, Kimberly gave birth to Amelia Joy Moody.  Wednesday, Kim had a phone call from the OBGYN that her labs were slightly elevated.  We stopped by after our growth check (Amelia was measured in at 6 pounds 9 ounces by the way).  After some consideration, she asked us to come in to induce before anything serious developed since we were nearly 39 weeks.  So we did, after stopping for our last meal as a married couple without kids.  Kim started to dilate with the medicine she was given, but Amelia was not taking the medicine well and the decision was finally made to have a c section after close to 60 hours of labor.  As I waited at the doors to the delivery operation room, every time the doors opening hoping it was the call for me to come in, I was overwhelmed.  I was about to go into a room to see Kim with a hole cut in her belly as the doctors pulled Amelia from her.  The doors opened again and it was finally my turn to walk through.  I came into the room and was able to sit beside Kim as the doctors grew closer and closer to pulling Amelia from Kim’s belly.  All of a sudden, she was there and I was that useless guy in the OR – You can go see her if you want.  You can hold her if you want.  Why don’t you take her over to mommy?  All, beautiful ideas.

Soon, we were headed off to NICU so the medicines Amelia so desperately needed could be administered.  As we passed by the NICU check in office, the nurse asked for the name and time of birth.  “Moody and I do not remember the time of birth” stated the doctor.  “7:52” I chimed in, so proud that I finally contributed a worthy piece of information to the day.  7:52.  A time I will never forget as I saw Amelia, all 18 inches of her brought into this world.

Kim spent the day recovering.  I, like any strong and proud grown man and new father, spend the day…nope…scratch that, the morning…nope…scratch that from the official record too…the moment … well, if you want to know the official records will report, I did not cry at all!

In the NICU, we had to scrub.  Scrub from elbows to finger tips.  There are very sick babies here.  Suddenly the “whoppty stinking doo” was not so doo any more.  In the pod next to Amelia (that is what her little bed is called), there was a baby who was 2 weeks old…on April 5^th…according to the picture on the wall behind her.  Now, not only does a simple shot not looks so bad, but open heart surgery with an expected 2-4 week recovery does not look so “whoppty stinking” any more.  Now, the “whoppty stinking” is on me.  Wow, how fast your perspective changes.

And yet, we are still looking at a very serious surgery.  Amelia was doing very well.  The pictures of her body showed no other problems and she was responding very well to life outside the womb.  She was getting her medicine and nutrition through the IVs and she was breathing room air.  Room air.  Not oxygen.  That was great news, because her blood oxygen was high enough that she did not need supplemental oxygen.  Saturday evening, we were allowed to hold Millie for the first time.  Sunday, we got to hold her again.

Kim was recovering well and we were trying to start to pump.  In fact, as I delivered the first milk, that was when the nurses asking if I wanted to hold her for the first time.  What about when you held her at birth you ask?  That was kind of like my wedding, I argue.  You see, I do not remember that we had a cake, much less what our cake looked like or tasted like.  For Amelia, I remember that I held her, but not much more than that.  This time, I was allowed to hold her for a long time…about 1 hour.  Then, Kim comes rolling in.  (You are missing a lot of that story too, so you should ask about that some time too.  But you need to ask me.  Kim will give you the untrue version of events.)  She was able to hold Millie for about an hour as well before we head back to eat, pump, breath (the little breathing machine…I am sure you know the one), and sleep.

Sunday morning, we are able to see Amelia again.  Some of Kim’s friends visited, so I took the time to head home and shower, a task I have not completed in nearly 5 days.  When I got back, I was told I need to see the doctor, now!  The expression on my face must have been worth ten thousand words.  Don’t worry, the doctors said she may be able to move this afternoon.  I rush in to find this news is true.  The doctor is writing up transfer orders as we speak.  There was a bed that opened at PCH.  But before she moves, Kim gets a chance to try breast feeding.  They both do pretty good.  Then, Kim gets to just hold Amelia on her chest for about 3 hours.  Finally, they are ready to take Amelia.  After an hour long ordeal, we make it to our new room at PCH.  When she gets settled, I head back to gather some of my things and to say good night to Kim.

At long last I am back at Amelia’s side and I will sleep in her room tonight as she coos for me.  She is doing so well.  In fact, she made it through her first monsoon storm, complete with lightening, thunder and rain.  She protests, with vigor at times, as we try to hold her and move her.  As soon as she stops moving, she is completely happy.  Just about the only part of her we regularly have access to is her head, so we gently rub it as much as we can.  As she fusses, we rub.  Sometimes, we can get to her one hand that is free (the other is taped to a stint to keep it from bending).  She raps her little fingers around my one big one and squeezes with all her might.  Her hands and feet go from a nice pinkish red to a dark blue and a little cold – the same thing your hand does when you pinch off your arm for a while.  Then, it slowly starts to get color again.  This is all part of what happens when you have HLHS, so we are ready for it.  There are a thousand tubes (really, about 8) all connecting into eventually one lead PICC (something something central catheter) line that goes up her arm to her chest to deliver the medicine she needs.

For now, she coos softly next to me.  I always thought I knew how precious that would be, but now that I hear my child doing it, I look back and think:  I had no clue!  Our little Amelia Joy.

Jesus, be with her.  Protect her from the germs and complications seeking to defeat her.  Help her to grow strong.  Give wisdom to the doctors deciding how to proceed and a steady hand as they began to operate.  Thank you for the minds you have given us that can figure out how to treat and respond to the crappy circumstances of life.  Jesus, walk close enough to Amelia Joy that she can reach out and grab the hem of Your rob that at even just a touch, some of Your mightly healing power would flow to her to help her along.  We love and trust you.  Thank you for this precious give you have given us to look after.  Give Kim and I the wisdom and strength to raise her to know You.  Give us the patience to teach her and allow her to make mistakes and learn from them.  Protect her from the evil of this world.  Thank you for this gift, Your child.  We will provide for her, everything we can and point her to You always.

Tonight, We Are Waiting

Tuesday, July 19

Tonight, we are waiting.  Waiting for many things.  I am waiting for our next phone bill (with … um … excitement???).  This is our pay week, so both Kim and I are waiting for (and looking forward to) another deposit into our accounts (with more excitement than our phone bill, that’s for sure).  We are waiting for the summer heat of Phoenix to produce the first good Monsoon storm of the season at home in Mesa.  Don’t get me wrong, we have had some storms (did you hear about the Haboob recently in PHX???), but we have not had a good gully washer at our house yet, just dust.  We are waiting for our savings to grow, the government to fix the budget, another day.  Tonight, we are waiting for many things.

We have many friends who have recently had children or are expecting children soon.  Some have started to share stories about first experiences.  Kim read about one mom’s experience has her son received his first shots.  It was touching (and the picture proved it) as he cried with questions in his eyes to his mom for why she could possibly let some stranger put a sharp object into his arm.  Kim’s thought, though filled with joy and excitement, and a little bit of sorrow for her friend and her son, was:  “Whoppty stinging doo!!!”  (Just bear with us…you will see why shortly).

Tonight, we are also waiting for our own little miracle to join us.  The doctors, who are always straight up honest, have been telling us for nearly 3 weeks that our daughter could join us at any time.  (For those of you who have not heard, we are having a little girl.  It seems the doctors are not that good at keeping secrets.  If you don’t know that story, ask some time.)  At first, the hope was for us to last 36 weeks.  We passed that about 3 weeks ago.  The second was to reach the ripe size of 2000 grams (just shy of 4 and a half pounds).  It seems that is the minimum size needed for our first surgery.  We passed that about 3 weeks ago too.  Our last growth check showed about 5 pounds 1 ounce.  Tomorrow, we have our next growth check and Kim and I have bets on how big our little lady will be.  But for now, we are approaching 39 weeks, so tonight we wait.

We have spent the last 4 months (we can not believe we have been traveling this road for nearly 4 months now) studying and learning and memorizing the procedures and organs that will be operated on in the coming weeks.  We have been worried and scared and want to make sure we understand everything that is coming our way.  You see, for the mom mentioned above, the scariest part of her first days as a mom so far have been the first shots.  Don’t get me wrong, the birth of a first child is exciting and exhilarating along with some scary moments as you start to think about a life you will bring into the world, a life who will be utterly and completed dependant on you for everything.  For us, we are starring down the barrel of a very scary set of open heart surgeries, the first of which is the Norwood procedure (my best friend Google can tell you all about it if you want to know more).  So, you can understand Kim’s first thoughts for the simplicity of a few shots when our first shots will be in preparation for surgery.

Tonight we wait.  Kim feels kicking all the time and we get to watch as our peanut squirms, kicks, punches and rolls in Kim’s belly.  As she does, I try to play with her by pushing and patting Kim’s belly (though Kim does not always like that much).  Tonight we wait to see what our little lady looks like.  We wait to see what she likes and dislikes.  We wait for the opportunity to get to know her, to teach her and grow her in the ways of Christ.  We wait to learn about her dreams and desires.  Tonight we wait.  We wait for the news of the birth of another child into our world and for the plan to address her broken little heart.  Tonight, we wait in the grace, peace and comfort of our God, who has His hands holding our daughter, comforting her and protecting her.  Tonight we wait, with excitement and anticipation for the first addition to our family.  Tonight, we wait, in the grace and presence of God, the love of friends and the company of the strangers who have gone before us and paved the road we are walking down.

Tonight…we wait.

Where to start???

Brian and I have been sitting on “the Rock” for about 2 and a half months! The rock is Jesus and as Christians we are to stand on the rock, however, we are bearing such a burden that we have not had enough strength to stand-so we are sitting on Christ our Rock! We will not get off the Rock nor be shaken!  As you know, we found out that our little baby will be born with a heart defect.  ;o(  This came as quite a surprise to both of us!  Research shows, that we did nothing wrong to make this happen to our precious little baby.  Me, being just a human being, find myself doubting that and the enemy tries to make me feel that this is my fault.  Don’t worry!  I am now able to put Satan in his place and rebuke his attacks!  Brian and I have actually done everything right!  In fact, doctors and other people have always said that you are the prime candidate for a perfect & healthy baby! Pardon me but CRAP HAPPENS! This world that we live in is full of sin  and Brian and I are sinners, so it is just one of those stinky things that happens!

I am finding it easier to praise our Lord through these circumstances! It was a little hard at first and being only human I struggled to praise Him for a short time! BUT… My Redeemer lives, My Father gives life MORE abundantly, we are MORE than CONQUERORS through Christ and if Christ is for us…who can be against us!  God is in control and we know that His love for our little baby is so great that we can’t even imagine the love our baby is getting and feeling from Christ our Rock! My prayer for Baby Moody is that Jesus wraps His loving, healing and strong arms around our little child!

Praise the Lord for finding out now!  God has used this time to prepare us for this journey and each day we are growing, getting stronger and becoming the parents God has called us to be for this little bundle of joy!  We can’t do this alone & we need the love and support from our Lord and also from you! Thank you SOOOO much for your prayers and love! We love you and know that God our perfect Father in Heaven has ‘Got this’!

Kimmy

Our Journey Begins

April 1, 2011

This Tuesday, March 29^th, I felt my baby for the first time.  Kim has been feeling him for several weeks (we do not know the sex yet and since I want a boy, I will call him him for now).  We were sitting in our OBGYN office waiting for a “special” meeting.  Kim had a call the Friday before and the message was that this appointment was scheduled – the doctor needed to talk about our ultrasound.  The sonographer had been having a difficult time getting good pictures of our baby’s heart.  We snapped a few pictures ourselves as we looked at pictures from the weekend out with friends while we waited for our doctor, who was running a little late.  She finally came in with the news.  It appears our baby’s heart was not developing correctly.  On Monday, Kim had a message from a Maternal Fetal Medicine (MFM) specialist with an appointment scheduled for Wednesday.  Our doctor was saying something about the possibility of an underdeveloped or undeveloped left heart.  I was not paying attention.  Our journey begins.

Wednesday, Kim and I went to the MFM specialist for a more in-depth ultrasound.  The result:  It appears to be a Hypoplastic Left Heart Syndrome (HLHS), a Congenital Heart Defect (CHD) that effects 9 out of 1000 of all births in the US.  The bad news is that 30 years ago, the mortality rate was virtually 100%.  The good news (if there is such and thing with this news) was that in the mid 1980’s, doctors developed a treatment for this problem, but before we discuss this with you, we need to be sure of what we are seeing.  You need to see a Neonatal Cardiologist – can you see him tomorrow, and, can we do an amnio something or other to get a chromosomal reading to know if this is just pure luck or a chromosomal related problem?  It does not appear that way since the only organ that appears to be effected is the heart at this time, but more info is better.  Sure – the more and the sooner we know, the better we can plan.

The amnio was simple – a quick needle through the stomach and into the uterus to extract some amniotic fluid.  We watched the needle on the ultrasound.  Suddenly, the baby was aware of the needle and a hand rushes up to inquire on the foreign object invading his space.  What a precious moment as we realize that our little one, roughly 23 weeks old in Kim, has enough presence to know that something had invaded his space.

With no complications, we returned Thursday for an echocardiogram.  After insuring the only effected organ was the heart, the doctor provided the most detailed and the first confirmation of what our baby was facing:  HLHS is the prognosis.  The left ventricle was non-existent, the left atrium was small and the right side of the heart was larger than normal while the veins and arteries around the heart also appear to be abnormal in shape and size – a standard associated with HLHS.  Prognosis – three surgeries:  first at the 5-10 day mark, the second at 6 months and the third between 3 and 5 years of age.  Chances of making it through the first surgery and to the second:  about 85%.  Chances of making it through the remaining surgeries and into adulthood reduces by about 3-5% from there.  The good news:  80-85% chance of living is much improved from 0% in the early 1980’s and if our baby makes it to the first surgery, chances are he will have a somewhat normal childhood and could live long enough to see grandchildren.  That is speculation since the oldest people born with this condition right now are in their mid 20s.

Kim and I are trying to absorb the last 3 days of news.  The reality is that the doctors are likely not wrong and our baby will be very sick at birth.  Our hope for a healthy baby at birth is shattered.  The truth Kim and I hold onto is that we have a Creator who knows the number of hairs on our baby’s head before we even new we were having a baby and in the end, whether our baby lives or goes to see Jesus, God is still God and God is still in control and we will still believe and worship Him.  Our faith has not been shaken nor will it be shaken by this.  Our faith was our faith before this knowledge and God will still be God after this challenge passes (if such a time comes).  We are excited to meet our baby, to know him, to learn about his likes, his talents and desires, what he will not like and what challenges he will bring and what his personality will be.  But this we know, as for us and our house, we WILL serve the LORD!

Brian