standing with hope

By molly elrod

When life is good I tend to sail and just ride the ebbs and flows of the day to day. However, I am not promised or guaranteed anything. If days are “good” count it all joy. If days are “bad” count it all joy. I would even argue that if nothing is happening to you, perhaps there’s little growth going on. 

In the times when God does something to me, when life is difficult, challenging, I grow the most. What’s happening to me is giving me “grit” so to speak. Most importantly, it causes me to rely on God to remember who He is, constantly, forever. 

I often ask, “What do I do with what you have given me, God?”

Does this exhaust our Heavenly Father?

I think not. Firmly, confidently, joyously, I tell you, God is for us, you, me. He is never against us. 

Our first child was born on a sunny Sunday afternoon on July 17th, 2016. We waited for the birth of our child to reveal if we were bringing home a son or a daughter. Best surprise, ever.

My water broke on Saturday, July 16th around 12:30 p.m. We made our way to the hospital with birth plan in hand and our doula on standby. Nothing happened, for hours and hours. I walked the halls. No change. I got in the tub. No change. I got on a ball. No change. I didn’t want an epidural for a number of reasons, which my doctor knew ahead of time. Frustratingly, the baby wasn’t coming down. I was exhausted and in pain. I opted for a morphine drip while I fought vomiting and severe back labor. The IV for the morphine came out and the medicine filled my arm. I had no relief.

While it was still dark I got an epidural. I felt defeated and exhausted. Nothing was going to plan. I remember pushing, but nothing happened except that I fell asleep between the contractions I couldn’t feel. After 27 hours, my doctor called the labor and was preparing me for a c-section.

I gave it all I had. I was fragile, tired, done, relieved. We left the delivery room around 4:00 p.m. I was prepped and at 4:34 p.m. our son, Bennett James Elrod, came into the world.

I remember everything going on around us. But the moment the doctor told my husband and I we had a son, we had a quiet moment together. His head on mine. “It’s a boy.” with tears streaming down our faces.

That little bundle, 7 pounds 13 ounces and 21 inches long, was brought to me with his cheek on mine, warm and wet. I said; “Hi buddy.” since I had known him longer than any other human on this planet. This little boy made me a mommy.

When I was all sewn up we were wheeled back to the delivery room where it all started. I was eager to hold my baby and to try to nurse. I remember chatting with my husband, Ken. I remember talking to the nurses and heard my mom’s voice asking if she could come in and meet her newest grandchild.

Suddenly, every voice sounded as if they were talking into a trash can. Everything sounded as if it were echoing, slow, distant. I told my nurse I wasn’t feeling so good. It was hard to breathe and I closed my eyes for a second. I opened my eyes to slaps on my face and the bed being turned vertical, so my head was closer to the ground. There were hands on my stomach pressing, pushing. The curtain was pulled, my mom was ushered out. Doctors and nurses came flooding into the room.

Bennett was removed from my arms. I was in and out of consciousness, the pressing on my stomach continued and I saw the look on my husband’s face.

My doctor came over and I vividly remember her explaining that I was hemorrhaging. I signed a waiver to give her permission to remove my uterus if needed. My husband was holding our new son. He said to me; “Hang in there, I love you.” I saw my mom in the hall as they wheeled me past. We were in an operating room again. I remember thinking, “I was just in a room like this.”

Then it was lights out.

I opened my eyes a bit and I was aware enough to know there was a tube down my throat. I was aware I was still in the hospital. I didn’t know that I had lost a half gallon of blood. Nor did I know what happened in the operating room. When I tried to pull my tube out, they sedated me further. I remember holding Bennett and trying to nurse while I was intubated.

By Monday afternoon I was writing on paper asking my husband if I still had my uterus. I heard him say, “No.” I wrote in reply, “Good thing we only wanted one kid.” (It was at this moment, that my husband would tell you that he began to tear up with hope that I was going to be ok. My humor hadn’t left despite all that happened.)

I was removed from life support as I was stabilizing. However, I was in ICU for 6 long, hellish days. The hospital is already a depressing place. ICU is a dark place. Patients in ICU aren’t there to thrive. They go there primarily for extreme care and in many cases, they pass away. 

The bathroom in an ICU room is a metal toilet that swings from underneath the sink. I was a new mom that had just endured 3 surgeries in 24 hours. (C-section, a balloon that was unsuccessful in saving my uterus and the hysterectomy). I wanted to be home, nursing my son, soaking up newborn snuggles. Instead, I had a central line, a catheter, and wasn’t allowed to be alone with my son as I was not well enough to care for him on my own. 

I was determined as anyone ever born to nurse my son. I began to pump and prayed and asked the world to pray that my milk would come in. I nursed my son the best I could, but I just couldn’t keep anything in my brain. I heard the words as my dear friend did her best to teach me how to nurse. She held my boob, turned Bennett’s head and showed me how to get him to latch.

I remained in ICU as I said for 6 days. On the 6th day, Friday, I was moved back to the maternity ward. We had high hopes that we would finally be discharged sometime on Saturday. My care was excellent. My doctor saved my life. We were cared for and taken care of in the best ways possible.

However, the hospital stay was like “Hotel California”. We could check out, but we could never leave. We weren’t discharged Saturday because I had yet another set back. I was unstable for no reason other than I almost bled to death a week prior.

The magnitude of trauma I experienced left me staring at the walls. I loved having my son in my arms, but I was just a shell of a person. I was thankful that Bennett was healthy from the moment he arrived. Trying to heal, recover and be a mom left my tank empty. I had a wound vac from the incision area and a central line that wasn’t removed until we were discharged. 

Despite all that we had endured, the circumstances didn’t stop God from working and his church rallying around us.

Molly Elrod

I selfishly want to believe that when I get to heaven, I will put faces to the hundreds of people who were praying for our family during this unimaginable time. Whether that’s revealed or not, I experienced the power of that unceasing prayer.

My milk came in 5 days after 3 surgeries and extreme blood loss. My doctors said the trauma of the birth alone should have prevented me from being able to nurse. The body wouldn’t have necessarily been focused on producing milk since there was other healing to do. I believe this was a gift from the Father. I had lost everything else when it came to wanting a “normal” birth. I nursed my son with gratitude, thanksgiving and joy for three years.

Finally, on Sunday afternoon, 8 days after we checked in to have a baby, we left as a family of three.
Home was a haven but it didn’t provide any healing. I experienced PTSD from my son’s birth. I had night terrors whenever I fell asleep. I would sleep for small intervals, which felt like hours, but I did not feel rested.

I had nerve damage from the blood loss and trauma. In addition, my taste buds died. No one told me these things may happen. It was just the aftermath of the damage that had been done. I was hungry because everything tasted like rubber. This left me depressed and even more exhausted.

If you’re a parent, you know how difficult those first weeks are. Trying to figure out what the baby needs: feeding, changing, comforting. That’s all enough to turn anyone into a zombie. Adding everything else that happened led to some nights of feeling hopeless. I was moving, going through the motions, but I wasn’t thriving. I was breathing in and out. Barely surviving.

I made it. We made it. Days turned into weeks and I was doing more than putting one foot in front of the other. Meals, gifts and visitors flowed in for weeks and then one day we were on our own. We were never alone as we entered parenthood.

What would God have for me in all of this? It’s easy to put God in the good of things in life. 

When life is messy, painful, uncertain and hard; it’s in these times that I have seen the evidence of God’s goodness. His love for me as His child. Whatever is happening to me, it’s doing something, it’s producing something.

Circumstances don’t change who God is. He is constant. 

-Molly elrod

We were carried through prayer and wrap support from “The Church” .

Life is messy, I encourage you to ask; “What do I do with what you have given me, God?” See what He has for you. God wants to do a work to you and in you, if you would allow it.

Does this exhaust our Heavenly Father?

I think not. Firmly, confidently, joyously, I tell you, God is for us, you, me. He is never against us.