Almost dying after childbirth 2006
A week before finding out my pregnancy, we were prayer-walking in Paris, France where our church was planting the next one. We didn’t think much of my morning nausea (too much cheese?) or extreme fatigue (jetlag?). After we came back to the USA, my husband noticed I was consuming an enormous amount of chips and ice cream. He said, “Wait a minute… you are pregnant!” (in a happy voice). I was terrified. I was not a girl who dreamt of being a mom. I would rather adventure around the world and solve problems with good designs. Will I REALLY let Jesus take full control of my life? I could no longer be theoretical about my faith. Jesus was telling me to give up the driver’s seat.
Matt 16:24-26 [MSG] “Anyone who intends to come with Me has to let Me lead. You’re not in the driver’s seat; I am. Don’t run from suffering; embrace it. Follow Me and I’ll show you how. Self-help is no help at all. Self-sacrifice is the way, My way, to finding yourself, your true self. What kind of deal is it to get everything you want but lose yourself? What could you ever trade your soul for?”
When the doctor told us to watch the Lamaze video, I almost passed out. The book “What to expect when you're expecting” scared me so much that my husband ended up reading all the chapters. (haha, sorry honey.) We didn’t take selfies back then, so I only have 2 photos of me with a baby bump. The nine months of pregnancy grew not only a human being inside my womb (a miracle) but also my heart & faith.
On the day of E’s birth, we were at the hospital where most children in Pittsburgh were born. They told us that none of the delivery rooms were open, and if I had to, I could give birth in the waitroom. What!? No thank you. The doctor came in and said, “Oh it’s you guys again. (Yes we were here a few weeks ago with a false alarm.) Good news, today is THE day!” He then rushed out to check on other moms who were about to pop. Sitting on the bench in the midst of a hectic triage, I was filled with fear. Not to mention the contraction pain. My mind started fading and I prayed, “Jesus, I’m terrified! I can’t do this! Please tell me You are with me!!” Tears gushed out of my eyes. At the same time, a magnificent peace FLOODED ON ME with an almost-audible sound of a “boom!” - it was exactly like Philippians 4:7 “And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” After that, my heart & mind was FULLY guarded and I was no longer scared. I used to think the “peace of God guarding my heart” was a heart-warming experience. But NO! The peace of God is POWERFUL with a magnitude much greater than the mightiest natural phenomenon on earth. I pray that this peace marks E’s life.
Soon after that, they rushed me into the delivery room that opened up. Thank God. We went in, played Jeremy Camp worship CD, and got the epidural shot. But only half of my body was numb. She jiggled the needle in my spine but it still didn’t work. We were scared and started praying. Doctor came in and ordered me to start pushing. I started hyperventilating due to the pain. I could hear the nurses saying “oh no, mother’s heart rate is…and the baby....” and my husband yelling at me to breathe deeper. What a scene of chaos. But I was still guarded with peace! I even looked up at the ceiling mirror, which I thought was gross when we came to tour the delivery room many months ago. Seeing E’s baby head pop out was like finding a sign of life on the moon. Pains faded and everything was in slow motion. I didn’t know I was this type of a girl. I cried happy tears with a gooey baby on my chest. My husband kept saying, “Can someone wash this? It stinks!” (haha) but I couldn’t smell anything. I only felt beauty and gratitude from this little human life.
The following weeks were a blur until someone pointed out that I was gaining too much post-baby weight. It turned out that my kidney was failing and my body had been collecting water. They put a big tube in my body to drain it (ugh, disgusting). They also found a uterus infection. I was back in the hospital, not on the happy baby floor, but on the sad sick floor. My white cell blood count was high off the chart, so the specialist gave me a button next to my bed saying, “If you feel pain behind your knees, press this to call us. If you wait, you could have a blood clot and drop dead, ‘k?” There were doctors from 6 different departments ordering blood tests but they did not coordinate. Every night I got poked all over my arms by interns who weren’t familiar with my thin veins. My husband was so mad seeing my bruised arms and dying body. Unfortunately the doctors said their job was to keep me from dying and they can’t go out of their ways to save my life. I remember being SHOCKED that doctors cannot heal us. But only God can. I had plenty of time to let this fact sink in as I laid on the hospital bed unable to move on my own.
When I came across Psalm 112:7 “They will have no fear of bad news; their hearts are steadfast, trusting in the Lord,” I told Jesus that I couldn’t pray this verse. Every night I cried and ended up reciting this verse. Perhaps I needed this to be true. I didn’t want to be fearing every morning when doctors came in with more bad news. I wanted my heart to be steadfast while doing a breathing exercise and watching my lung capacity deteriorate. I wanted to have an unshaken trust in the Lord whenever the nurses mentioned how awful it was that my baby wasn’t getting the breast milk (nutrients she needs) or the skin-to-skin with the mother (connection without which she becomes lost) in her most crucial stage of life. It was devastating and more unbearable than the physical pain. It was also humbling to be carried by a nurse to go to the bathroom everyday.
In addition to all the above, the hospital gave me too much IV, which killed good bacteria, and I got C-diff (intestine infection). It was extremely painful. The worst part was that this is highly contagious and I could no longer see my baby & husband. They put a huge danger sign on my door, with a kit for nurses to put on: plastic suit, gloves, masks. I felt like the lepers in the Bible. No one could or wanted to touch me. Loneliness has a different sting than physical illness. Many Bible verses suddenly became real to me. I was no longer looking at the leper and Jesus from a distance; but now I’m in the leper’s shoes looking at the Healer. I often prayed Psalm 121:2 “My help comes from the LORD” by replacing the phrase “my help” with things that I actually needed. Healing of these infections comes from You, Lord. Low platelet count comes from You. My baby’s healthy growth comes from You. My husband’s strength to take care of a newborn comes from You. Kidney health comes from You. Hope comes from You. Joy comes from You. Peace comes from You.
Every night I sang worship songs and drew E’s baby face on a paper as I wept and prayed for her. One night an African American janitor came in and said, “hey, I hear you worshipping every night. I’m a Christian too. Lemme give you a hug because my God protects me from all diseases!” Wow, she saw me just like Jesus saw the sick man by the pool of Bethesda among a great number of the sick, the blind, the lame, and the paralyzed (John 5:1-6). I tangibly experienced the love of Christ in that moment. To be noticed. To be seen. To be loved. This woman of God brought a beacon of light into my dark dungeon. What a contrast between her and the highly educated doctors who spoke about the scientifically proven facts without love.
As my condition worsened, our church held a prayer night for my healing. The morning after that, all my results came back fine. My 6 specialists seemed relieved, and jokingly told us to ask our church to keep praying for me because they couldn’t fix my body. All glory be to the Lord!
As I was getting rolled out of the hospital on a wheeled chair, I heard God say: “I HEARD YOU.” It struck the deepest part of my soul and made me bawl. (This memory still makes me tear up.) This meant much more to me than the physical healing. All the days and nights I cried out to God and felt as if He wasn’t listening. All the pains and shame I endured while God didn’t seem to care. All the prayers I lifted up that didn’t get answered. All the lonely nights I looked out the window and wondered if I would ever see my baby girl again. All those times, God DID hear me. He was listening. He was with me. He did not abandon me in the silence. Now I shall have no fear of bad news because GOD IS WITH ME and He DOES hear my prayers.
If you feel forgotten and hopeless today, be encouraged that GOD HEARS YOU. Don’t give up.
Psalm 121
I lift up my eyes to the hills-- where does my help come from?
My help comes from the LORD, the Maker of heaven and earth.
He will not let your foot slip-- he who watches over you will not slumber;
indeed, he who watches over Israel will neither slumber nor sleep.
The LORD watches over you-- the LORD is your shade at your right hand;
the sun will not harm you by day, nor the moon by night.
The LORD will keep you from all harm-- he will watch over your life;
the LORD will watch over your coming and going both now and forevermore.
