All In A Mom-day's Work
by Lucie Bouchard Antoniazzi
Our miracle baby
Each year when March comes along, I’m reminded that God blessed us with a miracle. Against the odds, He allowed me to bring our handsome, healthy son into the world.
Four days before my due date, I discovered the first blemishes of what would become a fairly heavy case of chicken pox. I called my doctor’s emergency call center and left a message for him to call me as soon as possible. A few minutes later, the phone rang.
"Hello, doctor," I said.
"Are you in labor?" he asked.
"No, I’m not. I’m calling to tell you that I have the chicken pox. Should I be worried?"
"The chicken pox! Let me make some phone calls and see what we’re up against. In the meantime, you lie down and rest."
I lay down to rest and started to worry. Oh, God, please let this not be dangerous for the baby. He’s almost here! Please let him be okay…
A few hours later, the doctor called back.
"I’ve talked to specialists. They say that you can’t have the baby while you’re contagious with chicken pox. The child’s chances of survival would be slim to none."
"But I’m due in four days! How am I supposed to stop the baby from coming?"
"You stay in bed and you do nothing around the house. At the first signs of labor, you rush to the hospital where the contractions can be stopped, and you can be monitored. Everything will be fine. Don’t worry!"
So my husband, my parents, and my in-laws all chipped in to make sure that I rested and healed before the baby came.
Even my daughters, who were almost five and three at the time, helped by putting calamine lotion on my pox and bringing me books to read and snacks to eat.
But I still worried. Please, God, keep my baby safe. Let me keep him well protected inside me until I’m healed enough.
I’d feel the baby move and kick and think, thank you, God, the baby’s strong and active. I could relax for a while, feeling that everything would be fine.
If the baby was still for too long, I panicked. Oh, no, something’s wrong! Please, let him move or kick. Let me know that he’s all right. Then he’d move, and I’d relax again.
Somehow I managed to not go into labor and after ten days of rest, I saw my doctor. I was healed enough to have the baby and it was high time – I wanted this baby out now!
"If you haven’t had it in a week, we must induce," the doctor warned. "So walk around, do some housework, whatever it takes to get labor started."
I followed the doctor’s orders and prayed that the baby would come soon. I really didn’t want to be pregnant for another week. Two days later, I woke up to early signs of labor.
That evening, in the delivery room, I braced myself to push my baby out. I pushed and pushed. Finally, the baby’s head crowned and emerged. The contraction was still strong; I wanted to keep pushing.
"Stop pushing!" the doctor ordered.
"Stop pushing, honey," my husband said more gently, tightening his grip on my hand to gain my attention. "It’s really important that you stop."
I stopped pushing and gasped. "What’s wrong?"
"The cord is wrapped three times around the baby’s neck. It won’t let him go down any further."
The doctor quickly cut the umbilical cord and uncoiled it from the baby’s neck.
"Push as hard as you can…now!"
I pushed, but there was no contraction to help. The baby had no oxygen from the umbilical cord. Please, God, give me strength. I know I can do this! The doctor pulled as I pushed and within seconds our son was on my belly.
He lay there. Blue and motionless.
I panicked. "Why isn’t he crying? Why isn’t he moving?"
A nurse scooped him up and took him over to a side table. Oh, God, let him be okay. Let me hear him cry! A few seconds later, our son cried out – a deep, powerful cry.
"He’s crying now. Are you happy?" the doctor teased.
I looked at my husband and smiled, eyes welling up with tears.
"We have our son!"
While I’d been concerned for our son’s welfare, I’d hardly noticed the doctor and nurses continuing to work on me as I delivered the placenta. The doctor turned to us, holding the length of umbilical cord still attached to the placenta.
"You have yourself a miracle baby, mom and dad," he said. "Not only did he stay inside to protect himself against Mom’s chicken pox, but he kept getting his oxygen with three turns of the cord around his neck and this."
He showed us a large knot in the umbilical cord, just loose enough to keep the blood flowing through. I clutched at my husband’s hand as I stared at the knot. We could really have lost him.
"His guardian angel was looking out for him," the doctor added.
"Thank you, God," I whispered, as I cradled our son against my heart.
I dedicate this to our son, Nicholas Louis Antoniazzi, born March 6, 1997 and still going strong.
Lucie Bouchard Antoniazzi works from home as a
freelance writer, editor, and web designer while also pursuing a part-time career
in engineering. She lives with her husband Rudy, and their three children,
Sabrina, Vanessa, and Nicholas, in Laval, Quebec, Canada.
Find out more about Lucie and her work by visiting her web site at www.luciebouchardantoniazzi.com.
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