“You have to sit down,” the nurse repeated.

“I am fine,” Oleg answered again.

“Sir, you have to sit down because you can faint from seeing so much blood and we cannot be responsible for you.”

Oleg sat on the chair next to me, hugged me, kissed me on my head and prayed quietly. The surgery went on for about an hour. I could not see anything behind the curtain, just felt the doctors pushing on my stomach. I felt no pain, no fear and did not cry. I didn’t feel like myself. Usually, I would be so scared, but I was calm. I quietly prayed for God to be in charge and for His will to be done. After about ten minutes, the doctor delivered the baby and asked the nurses to take him to the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit (NICU). I could not see the baby or hear him cry. Oleg couldn’t tell if the baby was alive. The doctors continued finishing my surgery.

After the surgery, I was taken to the recovery room for one hour. The nurse gave me medications and made sure I was okay. Oleg sat by me and held my hand. Another nurse came and asked if he wanted to go see our newborn son.

My husband left with her and shortly came back.

“Our son is alive!” he said relieved and excited. “Olga, when you called me, I was under the impression that he had already died. All the way to the hospital I cried out to God because I wasn’t sure what was happening. Olga, I was worried about you, too. My son is alive! He is moving his hands! Praise God!”

I only now understood why Oleg hadn’t answered my second phone call. Only God saw his tears and heard his questions. Oleg sat by me, held my hand and kept thanking God that our baby was alive.

“The nurses started medications through an IV for our son’s heart and provided him with breathing help,” he explained. “Our baby is in NICU in a warm incubator.”

I was glad to see Oleg happy, even though he still worried. I was glad to hear that our baby was alive, and the doctors were taking good care of him. But after the anesthesia my mind was foggy, and I was in pain. Thank God, I was in one of the best hospitals in Oregon with good doctors and nurses, taking gentle care of me.

…….

After an hour in the recovery room, I was taken to the Intensive Care Unit for postpartum mothers after a high-risk delivery. The nurses put my surgery bed next to the bed that I was to use in the room and asked, “Olga, can you try to scoot from your bed to the one in this room?”

I tried, but felt terrible pain from the C-section incision. Also, due to the anesthesia, I couldn’t feel my legs at all. It was impossible to move. How do you move, when you don’t feel your legs and experience severe pain? I became scared and started crying.

“I am in lots of pain and can’t feel my legs,” I said.

Oleg offered to help the nurses move me, but they did not let him. They asked for help from a male nurse. They wrapped me in sheets and used them to move me from my surgery bed to the bed in the room. Then, the nurse gave me extra pain medications.

That night there wasn’t a room available with a sleeping couch for Oleg. So, he slept on two chairs, sitting on one and resting his feet on another. I wanted to sleep, but I couldn’t. The anesthesia medications made my whole body itch the minute I began falling asleep. I told the nurse, but she answered that it was a side effect of the medications.

In the morning, a room with a couch became available, so the nurses with my husband’s help transported me there in a wheel chair. Oleg fell asleep on a couch right away. The nurses changed my wound dressing and started magnesium medication through an IV to lower my blood pressure. They were also giving me Ibuprofen and Vicodin to kill the pain. In addition to itching, I felt dizzy and developed a very bad headache. I was still unable to fall asleep.

…….

Oleg slept for only a couple of hours. In the morning the nurse asked if he wanted to go visit our baby again. He was excited for the chance and left with her. When Oleg returned, he brought me a precious gift: he had taken a picture of our baby, so I could see him for the first time.

I loved our son so much and felt so sorry when I saw him. I needed an explanation about all the wires and tubes around him. When the doctor came, she tried to answer my questions, but there was just too much to understand. I wanted to see our baby, but my medical condition prevented this.

After the doctor left, Oleg and I realized how blessed we were to live in the United States with well-educated and skilled doctors, advanced medical equipment and medications. It is amazing how skilled and talented these individuals are, and how much they care. They do more than just their job. They are involved in our lives and work as fellow human beings, who care for other human beings with such strong convictions. They are special, and we are grateful for them.

Oleg and I understood that from then on, our lives would be different, since our baby would be staying at the hospital for a while. Oleg called his Mother in California.

“Mom, our baby has been born very early. Olga had a C-section. The school has started. Someone needs to be home to send David, Kristina and Michael to school and meet them after. Can you please come help us with the children?”

“Yes, of course, I will come,” Oleg’s Mother promised.

My parents continued to help with our children, while Oleg was with me at the hospital. That morning we realized how lucky we were to have parents near us during such critical time.

…….

A nurse brought me an electric breast pump to pump the first colostrum for our baby. I sat up in my hospital bed and started pumping, but didn’t know if my baby would ever drink it. I couldn’t believe this was my new reality. My first three children were all healthy. They were with me in the room after birth and I breastfed them. I knew it was important for our baby to drink colostrum, but he couldn’t yet; he was being fed through an IV. The nurse brought me more bottles and labels. I attached the label to the bottle and the nurse took my milk to NICU to be frozen.

The cardiologist ordered an echo cardiogram of our baby’s heart. With hope, we patiently waited for the results. Soon the cardiologist came back and said, “Unfortunately, the echo cardiogram of your baby’s heart showed that all the predicted problems are still there. Your baby may not survive.”

He gave us a list of our baby’s diagnoses:

Right dominant unbalanced atrioventricular septal defect with large primum ASD;

Second superior secundum ASD;

Inlet VSD;

Hypoplastic left ventricle;

Severely hypoplastic aortic arch with severe coarctation;

Large patent ductus arteriosus;

Ex-30-week premature infant.

We didn’t understand all of the medical terms, but knew there were many problems with our son’s heart. When the doctor left, we were quiet for a while.

“I feel like God doesn’t hear us,” Oleg finally spoke. “Why doesn’t He help us? What about the prophecies that others had told us that God would heal our baby in the womb? Why had individuals prophesied that which is not true?”

Reality set in. Maybe God was stronger in Oleg, because he was still in a supportive role in his trust of God. I, on the other hand, questioned, “How can a loving God do this to my baby? Is it a God I still want to love and believe in?”

“Olga, we need to accept God’s will,” Oleg tried to answer my questions. “People can be wrong. They can tell us things that hurt us. They can prophecise what may not come true, but God is God. We have to believe in Him. He is there. He is alive. He will help us.”

That day was difficult for both of us, but we ultimately decided to accept God’s will and move forward with our lives. We now had a son who would require vast amounts of our attention and care, and somehow, we would have to make accommodations within our and our children’s lives.