The funny thing about Toby’s story is I laid down for 17 weeks. Why should that take two blogs? Because it was SEVENTEEN weeks, y’all. You try doing something for 4 months and tell me if it can fit in a sentence.

Anyways, when I left you I was 20-something weeks pregnant, lying down with Richy playing the piano.

Then, we had a hurricane. Rita, to be specific. It was forecasted to be the end of days, wiping Houston from the map and causing babies to be born in mid-air with Geraldo narrating. I was really excited about that, since I was pregnant. So began a semi-panic where we tried to decide if we should stay in place or drive somewhere else, and just brave the contractions that I had whenever I had to ride in a car. Ultimately we decided to travel 30 minutes to my sister’s house, and then the hurricane ended up being no threat to Houstonians anyway. That’s how it goes.

The next few weeks went by uneventfully, and I passed up 24 weeks for the first time ever. I remember thinking, can I relax now? I thought that point would change something, and I’d relax and feel like I could buy diapers or something. It didn’t, though. I would lay there and think, there is a baby in me. A real baby that will be born and wear baby clothes and I can keep him, but there was no connection between my mind and my heart.

At 31 weeks, I went to a routine appointment and found out I was dilated to 3. I was hospitalized right away. At first, I was so stoked to even be that far along, but the reports were so scary of what a 31 weeker would face. They put me on a magnesium drip, which is a horrible drug. Magnesium is the “big gun” of labor-stoppers. It makes you really hot, all the time, and your mouth gets super dry but I couldn’t drink much because a full bladder would really cause contractions. Mag works. Unfortunately, it only works for 72 consecutive hours and then you have to take a break from it.

I begged and pleaded to attend my own baby shower and got permission, and a terbutaline pump which was a needle taped into my leg, with a supply of terbutaline to be injected at will. Fun times. My baby shower was AWESOME, although I was so drugged I can’t remember much. After that it was back to the hospital, then back home, then back to the hospital because of an insurance snafu. Dr. Reed was breathing fire on all insurance and hospital staff, but I was actually relieved to be back in custody, on a monitor. I stayed there for another week or so and then got to go home on the terb pump, God bless my heart.

The next few weeks were a delicate balance of not moving, at all, waiting and praying and hoping. I wrote this in that gap.

I am sleepwalking

I'm hoping that maybe

if I tiptoe softly enough

then you will come

And not just be another

sweet dream faded too soon

Maybe if I don't wake up

You will come

and be the substance

of this hope

Maybe if I don't want you too much... maybe if I close my eyes... maybe

if I sleep

Then you can come and fill my arms

and I can be at peace

At 34 weeks, we went from strict bedrest to “taking it easy”. Toby was born at 34 weeks and 2 days. He was 4 pounds and 13 ounces. When Dr. Reed handed him to me, my heart breathed a sigh of relief. He went straight into the NICU and stayed there for 2 weeks. When we finally got to bring him home, it was party time. He has celebrated every day of his life since then. J

I left you, a long time ago, with the story of losing the twins. That post has been getting some new traffic lately as I make new friends, so I thought, hey! I should keep updating the Clarkives and not leave you all in the valley of the shadow and what-not.

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Now I will tell the Story of Toby, in 2 parts.

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*Warning* this is a chapter about getting pregnant and staying pregnant, and as such, will involve conception and cervixes and so on.

A month after the twins died, we went to Colorado for a 50 day prayer initiative. In retrospect, it was a really good way to heal. Richy led worship every day, sometimes multiple times a day, and I went up there once a day and the rest of the time stayed in my little apartment with R2, looking at Pikes Peak and letting myself grieve. One of the things we decided during that season was that we were not through trying to have biological children.

We got pregnant (well, mostly me) in May. I remember looking at the positive test with Richy, and we were like, well, here we go! It’s strange remembering how absolutely full of hope and faith we were- in the aftermath of the last 2 pregnancies- it had to be the grace of God.

I got on the phone as soon as I knew I was pregnant- trying to get in with a dr that was well-known for high-risk successes. They weren’t accepting new patients, so they shut me down right away, but I kept calling back until I got an office manager, who heard the story and asked Dr. Reed to make an exception, and she did. I think she was intrigued by the challenge.

I explained to her early on that I would be going on bedrest at 4 months, which is when I typically start labor. She was skeptical of the effectiveness of “preventative” bedrest, but mostly supportive.

I went to the hospital the first time at 16 weeks for contractions. They monitored me for several hours and then started me on Terbutaline. Terbutaline is a vicious drug. It speeds your heartrate up significantly, and makes you shaky and jittery all the time. It also helps to stop contractions, so I lived with the side effects. In addition to the drugs, I went to bed. The only times I stood up were to walk to the bathroom and to take a shower.

At 19 weeks, the contractions got close together, and I panicked. We went to labor and delivery, but I wasn’t considered viable and they were trying to send me home, but Dr. Reed showed up and barked at enough people to get me upstairs and in a room. I ended up staying the night and getting drugged with some kind of labor-stopper (tocolytic) . She also recommended that I keep doing what I was doing, which was strict bedrest. That night, as Richy prayed, he got some direction from the Lord, that the baby would live, and that his name would mean Peace. (thus the middle name Paxton)

It was a struggle to keep my mind and heart away from fear. Somewhere in there, my contractions got really out of control and I got terribly afraid. Richy went on a fast and prayed, and they stopped completely for several days, which gave me such a faith boost to keep going. Richy decided to cancel his summer tours and stay home with me. In the morning, I would wake up and put on clothes, and then move from the bed to the futon. Richy had his piano set up in there, and all day I would lay on my left side and listen to him play and sing. I learned how to really soak and find peace, and as long as he played, I would have very few contractions.

All through this time, I had been having weekly doctor visits. Every other week I had an ultrasound, and the in between weeks, I would have cervical checks to see if I had started dilating.
I did start dilating at some point, I don’t remember what week, but it added to the strain and the wait.

We stayed the course, me lying on my left side, him playing and singing, and R2 right in the middle of everything.

To be continued…