Empty Hands

Babies do not belong in plastic incubator boxes and nondescript hospital rooms.

But, that's where my baby is right now, tucked away in a plastic box in the NICU with all kinds of wires and monitors taped to his little baby body.

Yep, you guessed it. It's been an eventful week on the Homefront.

Asher David McMurry was born on Sunday, Aug 31 at noon-ish. He weighed 5lbs 13 oz and made his big debut about a month and a half before his scheduled due date. It's been nearly a week now, and I haven't been able to hold him yet.

You want to know what's been the hardest thing for me to deal with? All of this is probably my own fault. I had been feeling really off for a couple of weeks and horribly ill for a couple of days. I waited until I had 104 degree temp to call my doctor and say, "Ummmmm.. My body feels like it's being drug through a burning pit of fire. Maybe I should come in for a checkup?" Because, heaven forbid, that I would call him when I wasn't really sick and be thought of as a wimp or something.

Anyway, my doctor pretty much took one look at me and decided I needed to be admitted. For the next two days, I had my own team of doctors and nurses poking their heads in and trying to figure out what the heck was wrong with me and why my white blood cell count was so freakishly high (I think they finally settled on an upper kidney infection and pneumonia).
But my pulse and heartrate kept dropping lower and lower and, apparently, according to rumor, I was doing quite a bit of hallucinating. Then the contractions started and the doctor made the decision that I wasn't going to get any better until they delivered the baby.

Sam and I had approximately ten minutes to prepare ourselves for the fact that the baby was coming now and I was wheeled into the operating room for an emergency c-section. Asher came out screaming and crying and bigger than anyone expected.

I'm glad I wasn't really around for what happened next. They had stitched me up and taken me to the ICU when Sam decided to run to the nursery to check on the baby. The nursery doors were slammed in his face by an aggravated nurse who muttered something about a procedure. But before they closed the doors, Sam caught a peek of a team of doctors rushing around a baby--our baby--whose lungs were crashing. The doctors were solving the problem by stuffing a breathing tube down his throat.

Luckily, Asher stabilized quickly and is now just on oxygen. He still isn't eating on his own so we don't know when he'll be able to come home. All of you out there who have been praying for us, thank you. I came home from the hospital yesterday, and really and truly have felt the power of your prayers in my quick recovery and the inspired decisions of doctors. But I'm going to ask you to keep praying for little Asher a while longer, if only so he can come home that much more quickly.

Poor Sam has had the weight of the world on his shoulders this week. He had to bare the brunt of having both a sick wife and a sick baby in the hospital, and I know it was one of the hardest things he has ever done. But watching his strength and seeing the love and concern written all over his face has reminded my all over again why I married him.

To all you friends and family out there who have done so much for us, I can't say thank you enough. My inlaws drove all the way up from Texas to keep Riley for the weekend when I was so sick. Then, they came right back again three days later to see the baby and drop Riley off. My mom bought a last minute airplane ticket to come in make everything better, like moms always do. And my friends all seemed to know exactly when to call or stop by when I was feeling my lowest and really needed a visit to cheer me up. Thank you guys so much!

I will try my hardest to follow up with some pics in the next day or two.