Labor, Jesus and Sarah. A thank you to my labor and delivery nurse.
On the evening of January 18th, 2017 I checked into the hospital. Baby #2 was on her way.
During labor for baby #1 a labor and delivery nurse told me, “Each baby has their own way of getting here.” She told me she thought we, (as laboring women), would have an easier time if we didn’t clutch onto our expectations for dear life. So the second time around, I heeded her advice.
At 7pm the hospital staff had a shift change and so my first nurse, Dala who was considerate and made sure to give me every comfort she could – even through the pokes and pricks – said goodbye and Sarah said hello.
Sarah and Dala
I labored without meds for 2 hours, got an epidural, labored for two more hours and pushed for FOUR minutes. Lightning fast compared to my first labor.
As soon as I pushed her out, they whisked the baby away from me because she was blue and purple because she had sucked in a lot of amniotic fluid. They worked on getting her risk free. I didn’t get to see her or hold her for a while.
At 12:53 am I gave birth to a healthy baby girl — and by 1:30 or so — a cloud started to loom over my hospital room.
While the baby was being taken care of, the doctors and nurses realized my placenta was not coming out and more severe measures were going to have to be taken.
The doctor explained the 2 or 3 procedures they would try before resorting to a C-section. I was losing blood and my placenta needed to come out. And for safety reasons, they needed to move me to an operating room just in case things went south.
So while my husband held our minutes old daughter, they transferred me onto a gurney and away I went.
As they rolled me out of the room – I locked eyes with my husband and told him I loved him and that I would be okay.
Sometime after delivering the baby and before I was wheeled away – I brought God close and I started to hum one of my favorite church songs. No words, just humming.
There is power in the name of Jesus
There is power in the name of Jesus
There is power in the name of Jesus
To break every chain, break every chain, break every chain
To break every chain, break every chain, break every chain
As they transferred me I hummed, as they wheeled me into the operating room, I hummed, as they took off my bra (for the just in case) — as they strapped my legs to stirrups, as they connected IVs to my arms, I hummed.
What actually happened in the O.R. is hazy. I remember the brighter than bright fluorescent lights and I remember seeing a large digital clock with red numbers. And I remember catching glimpses of the symphony of nurses, but I couldn’t see much else.
During the procedures they had my chest and torso WEIGHTED down with 20 pounds of white cotton blankets because my body was convulsing. It was like someone had unzipped my skin and the insides of my body were exposed to the icy temperature of the operating room.
Half way through the procedures, (one of which included a doctor sticking her entire forearm into me and rooting around for pieces of my placenta,) the doctor said, “It’s stuck, we’re going to have to try something else.” She reached for a serrated spoon and started to scrape this insides of my uterus.
She said, “This will cause fertility issues later.” “If this doesn’t work, we’ll get the hose.”
I said, “I’m losing blood, I can feel it.”
And I continued humming.
There is power in the name of Jesus. There is power in the name of Jesus.
“Yes you are and more blood is on the way for you.”
Minutes later I heard the doctor ask the nurse, “Where’s the blood?”
“We have someone at the door waiting for the blood – it’ll be right up.”
I knew I was losing blood because my vision started to go grey and I could feel my brain shutting down.
“Nope, no more energy for that.”
“Or that.”
“Or that.”
And then my eyes closed.
The doctors gave me a blood transfusion, scraped out my placenta and took me back to my original room. I convulsed for three hours in shock. My body could not stop shaking, trembling, my teeth chattering incessantly.
Once the convulsing stopped, I was transferred back to the bed I was in before. I was desperately thirsty, and someone brought me a plastic pink jar full of ice chips. I used the mirror directly in front of my bed and stared at myself eating ice chips until the ice chips were gone. I’m not sure where my mind went, but I was somewhere far away.
And a few hours after that, they brought in the baby to nurse. Because even though I had just been through major trauma, the baby needed to eat.
The next morning the doctors explained to me that I had hemorrhaged 50% of my blood.
The next day.
Sarah, my labor and delivery nurse, was absolutely my guardian angel that night.
Sarah! <3
I met her around 7:30pm. She walked in professional and kind. She asked what kind of labor we were shooting for – and she was open to all of it. We explained how we wanted a minimally invasive labor. And I told her that during my first labor I had staked my pride on not having an epidural — but that I was wiser now. (ha!)
During my four-hour labor Sarah watch intently, joked with me, helped me through contractions and was ultra-supportive.
And when things started to get serious – when I was wheeled into the OR- Sarah was the only person I “knew.” And even though I had only interacted with Sarah for 4 hours – she KNEW ME. She had seen me go from casual to in pain to in excruciating labor pain – she had seen me and helped me push a human out of my body AND she had seen things take a turn for the worse.
Sarah walked with me through the hospital halls from my labor room to the OR – she held my left hand the entire time and never left my side.
For as long as I had the energy – I hummed, There is power in the name of Jesus.
And at the point that I stopped humming because I just couldn’t anymore– Sarah leaned in and asked, “What song are you humming?” The only response I could muster was, “a church song.”
And then…
She took over humming for me.
I could feel her – holding my hand – giving me warmth – literally and figuratively.
I didn’t have the energy to hum with her but I could hear the hymn and in the midst of the chaos – I felt peaceful.
To Sarah, my labor and delivery nurse, thank you for investing in me and the life of my baby, thank you for your boundless heart, thank you for giving me strength and grace. I see how hard you work and what you do reverberates WELL beyond the moment – maybe even a lifetime, and I appreciate you. Sarah, during one of the holiest moments of my life – you were there with me – guiding me with ease – and for that, I thank you.
And to all labor and delivery nurses – we more than see you – we appreciate you and honor you and we thank you for pouring your hearts into our labors and our families. You change the world for the better.
Parts of this Blog were originally published on Austin Moms Blog
Hi friend!
I'm Catia, a woman, wife, mama, sister, sister friend, you know -- I wear a million hats just like you.
One of my biggest whys is that I want people to feel good about ALL of who they are. Including you.
The threads running through all my work (I’m an author - The Courage to Become, I’m a motivational speaker - TEDx, Choose Joy or Die , I am a private coach ) are hope, joy and empowerment.
If I could choose ten words that best describe me I would say: honest, welcoming, giving, curious, loving, earnest, empathetic, spiritual, playful, and sassy. Let's add: adventurous. That's 11.
Nice to meet you!
Want to start feeling really good but not sure where to start? Jump on into our virtual classroom (complimentary of course!) and get a weekly guide on how to walk with confidence and joy! You are divine. You are magic. I look forward to serving you!
Confidence and Joy Weekly Guide
Leaving a Legacy
The word legacy is pretty loaded. Will you have mattered? Will other people think you mattered?
How will I be remembered? Will my life have mattered? Will people care when I'm gone? What will they remember most about me?
Most of us think about our "legacy" every now and then.
When it all shakes out, how will it turn out?
--
A few weeks ago Alexandra and I made the trip from Panama to the US. She, as per usual, was chatty and friendly. "Hi, I'm Alezzandra (she can't quite pronounce the "x" yet), what's your name? Oh, that's a pretty name." She acknowledged people, hugged them, and wished them well. In the airplane aisles, airport bathrooms, everywhere!
On our way from Panama to Houston she came across a man in his 70s. She introduced her self, asked him about his day, hugged his leg and went on her way. (We are working on asking permission before we hug ;) )
We walked to baggage claim and that gentleman in his 70s came up to me and said, "I hope I don't offend you, but I'd like to give you $20.00. Maybe you can buy your daughter some treats or a toy. She has really touched my heart and I just want to say thank you."
I wasn't offended at all and offered something else. I said, "Why don't you write her a note? You can send it to me via email and I will save it for her. (Guapo and I have made email addresses for the girls and we send them notes from time to time.)" I said, "When's she's older, she'll be able to value it.” He agreed, we exchanges niceties and we went our separate ways.
A few days later, he sent this note.
"hello Alexandra, remember me? George. thank you for your presence. i was truly surprised by a very special gift from God. yes, a four year old child named Alexandra introduced herself as we walked towards the customs immigration check point inside the houston intercontinental airport.
in today's society, we are always on guard from the fear of the evil's presence. but you Alexandra gave me a moment of peace. everything in relation to fear fell apart at the moment of your presence. to me, this is more valuable than anything i could ever imagine.
you reminded me of my reason to live. God wants us to share love. that very special moment in your presence was a God given gift for me through you. continue making a difference in this world. continue being a light from heaven in our hearts. you already have victory in the palms of your hands. sincerely, george"
---
Alexandra did that. Kindness did that. Love did that.
Alexandra is 4 and has already started leaving her legacy. A legacy of presence, kindness and love. A legacy that includes SEEING people and acknowledging them.
It doesn't take money or power or fame to leave a legacy.
So if you're wondering if you matter. You do. If you're wondering if people will miss you. They will. If you're wondering how you can leave a greater impact on this world, LOVE MORE. Really look at people, acknowledge them, love them fully and set them free to be ALL of who they are.
LEGACY = LOVE.
Who do you feel in your heart? Who do you carry around with you? If they are still with us on this earth, do they know you carry them with you? Wouldn't it be nice to send them a note and let them know how much they have made a difference in your life?
I want you to know that you matter and that your legacy need not be defined by professional accomplishments. Your legacy can be defined by love.
Hi friend!
I'm Catia, a woman, wife, mama, sister, sister friend, you know -- I wear a million hats just like you.
One of my biggest whys is that I want people to feel good about ALL of who they are. Including you.
The threads running through all my work (I’m an author - The Courage to Become, I’m a motivational speaker - TEDx, Choose Joy or Die , I am a private coach ) are hope, joy and empowerment.
If I could choose ten words that best describe me I would say: honest, welcoming, giving, curious, loving, earnest, empathetic, spiritual, playful, and sassy. Let's add: adventurous. That's 11.
Nice to meet you!
Want to start feeling really good but not sure where to start? Jump on into our virtual classroom (complimentary of course!) and get a weekly guide on how to walk with confidence and joy! You are divine. You are magic. I look forward to serving you!
Confidence + Joy Weekly Guide
Shine your brightest,
The Courage to Become | Penny Williamson Lucas
I am a survivor. I am free. I am blessed.
I say these words to myself often. I have survived abusive marriages and my son dying in an accident when he was 9. Some days I wonder how I’m still standing but then I remind myself that it’s God’s grace and love and the love of the people in my life.
Timmy was my only child from my marriage to my high school sweetheart. My husband was a young alcoholic who saw his dad abuse his mom so it was a normal thing in his world. I divorced him when I was 21. In 1999, Timmy was 9 and he fell on an electric fence while visiting his grandparents and his airway closed up. He was alone at the time so no one was there to save him. I was completely devastated. I grew up in church. Every Sunday morning/night and Wednesdays we were in the building. When Timmy died, especially in such a horrific way, I was furious at God. I didn’t go to church, pray or even let myself think about Him. Why would he take my only child? I couldn’t understand it. Little by little my faith reminded me that God is in control. I will never understand why my child died but I rejoice in the fact that I will see and be with him again one day. I cherish every memory that I have.
Seven months after Timmy died, I was fortunate enough to get a job at the Texas School for the Deaf in the middle school office. Being around the students helped fill the hole that losing Timmy had left in my life. The friends I’ve made in the last 18 years here will be life long friends. About 10 years ago I started doing community service projects with the students and I love it so much. We have prepared lunch at the Ronald McDonald House, served lunch at a soup kitchen, reorganized the library and did sign language classes for the kids at the Helping Hand Home and various fund raisers to send money to different organizations. Helping children fills me with much joy.
I met husband #2 in Dallas night club in 1997. This marriage had a new set of complications because he is black and in the 90’s it wasn’t that common around Austin. I saw a whole different side of life and it was not always nice. As diverse as Austin has a reputation of being, when I was out with him, I was treated horribly. We would get seated in the worst part of restaurants and our service was not as good as I got when I was not with him. I had no problem speaking up about it but it was unreal to me. I didn’t let that affect my marriage or my desire to have children. We are blessed to have 2 daughters who bring so much happiness and laughter to my life every day. I was in that marriage for 8 years and though there was no physical abuse, there was mental and emotional abuse. I wanted to make the marriage work badly. We went to counseling more than once and I tried my best. I couldn’t be divorced TWICE!! But when you are married and feel single, that is no way to live. I struggled with the thought of God being upset with me for yet another divorce. Finally, I just didn’t think that He would want me to be so unhappy and He knew how hard I tried so I went through divorce #2.
By 2008 I had been single for 5 years, really tired of the dating life. I met, online, the biggest mistake of my life. An ex-con who was the sweetest talking, most persuasive man I’ve ever known. I believed everything that he said, including the lie that he wouldn’t hurt me again every time he did it. After we were together for 6 months, he went back to jail, where I married him…I know, what was I thinking!?!?! For the next 3.5 years while he was in prison, I was the loyal wife that visited every weekend, wrote every day, and put money on the books.
When he made parole and came home, he put my daughters, my mom and me through hell for the following 3.5 years. He was abusive in every way. He would disappear, my money would disappear, my peace disappeared. I thought he was going to kill me more than once. At the end of September 2015 was the final time I suffered his abuse. I finally followed through with filing charges and he fled the state. When he tried to contact me, I didn’t respond. I had no guilt in filing for this divorce.
The most often asked question to abused people is why did you stay? It’s a very frustrating question to be asked because it’s impossible to explain. People that know me and those that meet me can’t believe I was in an abusive marriage because I’m not meek or weak by any means. It’s different for everyone. I wasn’t financially dependent on him, quite the opposite. I didn’t need on him for shelter or food. We didn’t have children together. I didn’t NEED him but he convinced me I did. He isolated me from my friends and some of my family. He made me feel that I couldn’t keep a marriage going and that no one else would ever want me. He made me forget that I was God’s child, precious and worthy of being treated that way. I was told once that abused people will stay in that relationship until they hit a wall and I found that to be 100% true. I was so fortunate to get out alive.
I was that girl that always needed to be in some type of relationship. There was a desperate need to fill a void that I had inside me. For a year after that final assault, I went into hibernation and healed. The joy that he had taken away came back. My girls, family, friends and church wrapped me so tight in love, forgiveness, grace and understanding. I finally know that I am 100% awesome all by myself. I don’t need a partner to fulfill me, I am more than enough. I had constantly given that power to other people. No more.
For those who are in an abusive situation. You are worthy of love, you are special, you deserve better. Trust that I know it’s not easy to leave. I know others don’t understand that….I understand 100%. You are God’s child and He wants you to be safe and happy…so do I and everyone that loves you. You have probably been convinced that no one else loves you…please know you ARE LOVED!!!
For anyone who has lost a child, the loss is always there but the burden of it gets easier to bear as time passes. I focus on the almost 10 years that I was blessed to have him here as my boy. I celebrate his life and that I was so lucky to be his mommy. I wouldn’t trade that for anything.
I am more thankful than I can express for my mom and my girls. They have loved and supported me at my worst and my best. As much as I tried to shield them, they had to live through a lot of the horrors of my last marriage had and I will forever regret that. My sister, Bonnie and 2 cousins, Terri and Laura (the Fearsome Foursome) get me through life in a constant group text. We support each other daily and I don’t know what I’d do without them.
I thank God for giving me everything that I have. With everything that I have endured and overcome I love the person that I am. I am a good mother, daughter, sister, friend. My life is peaceful. My finances are secure. My house is full of laughter and love every day.
When Catia asked me to do this blog and I looked at some of the former blogs, I was a bit intimidated at first. I don’t have a business, I haven’t written a book, I haven't finished college (yet). I’m just a country girl from Mississippi that has been through a few things. The more I thought about it, there are probably people reading this that have lost a child or have been in, or are still in abusive situations. My prayer is that I can give someone hope that things can get better. I am proof.
I am a survivor. I am free. I am blessed.
Essay by: Penny Williamson Lucas
Hi friend!
I'm Catia, a woman, wife, mama, sister, sister friend, you know -- I wear a million hats just like you.
One of my biggest whys is that I want people to feel good about ALL of who they are. Including you.
The threads running through all my work (I’m an author - The Courage to Become, I’m a motivational speaker - TEDx, Choose Joy or Die , I am a private coach ) are hope, joy and empowerment.
If I could choose ten words that best describe me I would say: honest, welcoming, giving, curious, loving, earnest, empathetic, spiritual, playful, and sassy. Let's add: adventurous. That's 11.
Nice to meet you!
Want to start feeling really good but not sure where to start? Jump on into our virtual classroom (complimentary of course!) and get a weekly guide on how to walk with confidence and joy! You are divine. You are magic. I look forward to serving you!
Confidence + Joy Weekly Guide
Charles the Magic Cat
Originally published on 7-26-12
Monday morning I woke up heartbroken because Sunday afternoon I found Charles lying under a car and he had passed away from a snake bite. The left side of my face was buried in my pillow and I had been awake no more than two or three minutes before tears started rolling down my cheeks and soaking my pillow. I had gone to bed crying and woke up crying. It’s like my body said, “that’s enough for today, take these 6 hours of rest and use them wisely, and we’ll pick up where we left off in the morning.”
Charles was my 3 year old cat. I claimed him, but he was really everyone’s cat. If you were open to receiving love from a 10 pound rescue cat with a teeny nub for a tail, he’d pour it on.
Charles came to my brother Carlos and me a few years ago at our home on Maple Street. He nudged his way into our home and our hearts. The Hernandez clan was a rock solid dog family; no cat had ever been able to woo us into keeping it, but Charles worked his magic. He gradually progressed from eating whatever deli meat we left out to, getting all fixed up at the vet (on our first trip to the vet I walked him in on a leash, oopsie--I had only had a dog up until then!) to getting his own Christmas stocking, and the clincher was that when Beau and I moved from McAllen to Austin—Charles made the trip with us. We were a little family.
He was from McAllen but had a South Austin personality. Charles was relaxed, friendly and loving, but never lost his edge (one time he brought me a mangled rabbit and left it on my front door as a gift.) He made friends with everyone, including dogs and squirrels and the most cynical of cat critics. Sometimes he’d even join Beau and me at the dog park. And even sometimes, as my neighbor confessed, if Charles was in a particularly charming mood, he could convince you that his diet lacked fried fish sticks. Slick.
Like a lot of our pets that come from loving homes, he lived the best of lives; some may even say he lived the perfect life. He was taken care of in every way and was also allowed all the freedom that he desired. Isn’t that a nice sentiment, to be loved how you need and to be allowed the freedom to stretch your wings? Sounds like my dream situation. Charles’ routine was to greet me when I got home, eat dinner, shuffle out the front door, explore his little area of the world, come home in time for breakfast, get a good 10 hours of sleep in his bed and start fresh.
Charles is gone now, but each time I see reminders of him, I smile and thank the universe that it loaned me Charles and his spirit for a time, however short. As an ode to my last entry, it takes time, but the joy does supersede the hurt.
My little Charles was golden. Let’s take a page from Charles and: learn to make friends wherever we go, live exactly the way we want, and never lose our edge.