When I was pregnant with my fifth child, my pregnancy for the most part seemed to go normally. I didn’t gain more weight than usual and although I was extra tired, it still wasn’t so much that it felt out of the ordinary. When it came time to give birth, we anticipated a standard delivery. The pregnancy was largely uneventful.
Until later.
After our daughter was born, I wanted to go home right away so our new baby could meet all her sisters and I could sleep in my own bed. Due to complications with excessive bleeding, that was not an option. The doctor prescribed a clotting factor to help curb the blood loss, so I had to stay in the hospital extra time to ensure there were no other complications. Our new baby also needed some additional TLC due to dropping a slight bit more weight than what’s expected after birth. Eventually, everything seemed to be going well for both of us, and we were finally able to go home.
About a week after her birth, I was pulling the trashcan out to the road, which is moderately uphill, and I noticed that by the time I got back to the house, I felt out of breath. Even my chest felt tight and I was exhausted from that small bit of effort. I went upstairs to lay down and found my husband reading something in our bed. When I sat down next to him, I mentioned that this delivery was definitely harder than the ones I’d had before. He asked what I meant by that, and I relayed that I was out of breath and felt really tired.
Immediately, he seemed concerned and asked if I was having chest pains too. I said that I was, but I was sure it was nothing and probably needed to rest. Jumping out of bed, he announced that he felt it was more serious than that. He remembered being told at the hospital that chest pains were a bad sign and could mean a blood clot. He had seen it stated in bold letters on the release paperwork too. He wasn’t going to take any chances waiting around. I thought he was probably worrying more than he needed to, but I got ready to leave anyway.
My mom and my mother-in-law were already at our house, having come to help take care of us for the first week or two. Because of this, we didn’t have to scramble to call anyone to watch our five girls. So many things came together in this way, and made me realize I often take God for granted. Someone had unexpectedly given my mom some baby formula, and even though I had planned to breastfeed, she brought it along just in case. This made it easy to feed Lineah while I was in the hospital.
First, we drove to a clinic, and after listening to my symptoms and checking a few things, the staff said we needed to rush to the hospital right away. They told me how lucky I was that my husband had taken my symptoms so seriously. At the hospital, it was confirmed. I did have a blood clot, and the doctors and nurses said if my husband had not been so insistent that we come, I probably would have died.
My doctor received a notification that one of his patients had been admitted. He just happened to be at his own birthday party, but as soon as he learned about what had taken place, he called to check on me and was there the next morning to make certain I would be okay.
I honestly and personally felt at peace, believing fully that God would handle it all. He had already been at work, making sure I had help from the family, formula for our baby, instructions for symptoms of chest pain, an attentive husband, a caring doctor, and probably so many other things. God took care of me from the beginning, and this was just one more reminder of all the things I have to be grateful for in my life. It is another example of how He cares for us, even when we aren’t noticing. All the little things add up to big ones.
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