Looking Back - Part 6

As the day progressed Eamon's respiratory status worsened. At first the Dr thought due to a c-section, amniotic fluid wasn't forced out by the birth, and that fluid was causing some trouble with his lungs. Totally normal.

Not normal, was the increased compromise of Eamon's ability to fill his lungs and saturate his blood with the proper amount of oxygen. We waited, all day long for Eamon to make an appearance. David could visit the NICU, but I was a prisoner to my bed. It was incredibly strange to be in a maternity room, visitors gathered, but no baby to hold.

Eamon's o2 requirement was steadily increasing, by nightfall c-pap (a machine that works to keep the lungs inflated) was necessary. I was finally allowed to be wheeled to my baby around 9 pm. It had been over 12 hours since his birth. They positioned me alongside an open table, Eamon was covered in wires, and I just cried. The nurse debriefed me on the set-up, but all I could think was I had to leave my very fragile baby with this stranger.

Talk about a roller coaster ride - an amazing birth, a stalled day, and now a plummeting crisis. The Drs were perplexed, why weren't his lungs working? I was assured that I would be updated throughout the night. David needed to go home to Maeve and Myles. I was settled back in my room to wait-out the night. And, oh what a brutal night it was. I was extremely uncomfortable, moving like a snail, and expected to start pumping. I called the NICU several times that night, the precious nurse would try to comfort me, describing all the love she was giving my boy.

Around 3am, I awoke in a terrible fright, sweating and absolutely panicked. In the dark I fumbled for the phone to check on Eamon. The nurse couldn't speak, too busy with the baby. I prayed, I cried, I read verses that had carried me before. It was cold and dark and I felt so alone. Around 6:30 am, the nurse finally appeared sitting close to me on the bed. She explained that Eamon became quite critical around 3 am, Dr. Mang was called in, and the need to intubate became apparent. They were extremely concerned, not understanding the source of his respiratory failure. A bit later, Dr Manginello arrived dressed for his grandson's christening. His words were alarming, but I was having a hard time processing them. I called for reinforcements, people began to pray, and we waited - again.

Looking Back - Part 5

I felt a glimpse of Mimi in scrubs bared repeating - too fun!

Everyone took their position. At 8:35 am on February 3, 2007, Eamon Joseph Barclay entered our world. He had a cry, weak sounding, but a cry. He was here and alive! I still get chills when I remember the faint sound of life filling the room. They quickly gave me a peek then whisked him away to be looked over. David was at the door, filming the event. All you hear on our video is David thanking God, over and over, for Eamon.

Messy, I know, but fresh into the world, and I wanted you to see what we saw.

They didn't bother to wipe him, they knew this mama

wanted to see for herself the Miracle.

Eamon weighed 5.85lbs. The neonatologist, Dr. Mangenello, was genuinely surprised and pleased. Eamon was much larger than anticipated, and appeared to be doing quite well with apgar scores of 8/9 respectively! A concern of mine, before the delivery, was being able to see the baby following the birth - I wanted time to bond, immediately! After a c-section you are basically bed-bound for 24 hours, or at the least, until feeling returns to your lower body. Eamon was doing so well that Dr. Mang assured me, after the evaluation in the NICU, he would bring Eamon to my room for a visit.

Be still my heart.

The Prince, cleaned-up and ready for some lovin'.

Daddy made it all the way into the room.

Mimi was the only one to hold our sweet boy.

I was off to recovery. Eamon, escorted by his Daddy, had gone to the NICU. And Mimi went to greet the small band gathered in the waiting area with the good report!

In the NICU, Eamon was able to pass through the initial area reserved for the most critical children. He was weighed, measured, foot printed, and washed up.

Oh, he had such a head of hair, black-as-night, and was simply a beautiful sight to behold.

Eamon's oxygen saturation numbers were low so a nasal cannula was slipped on for temporary assistance. There was little concern, the drs thought it would correct itself shortly. The Dr visited us in my room, saying things weren't exactly as they had thought, but David quickly asserted that things were as they had thought , but had changed because God intervened.

Family and some friends visited David and I, but no baby in my room yet. Maeve and Myles arrived, but were not able to see their little brother. We all just chatted and waited for news that Eamon was no longer requiring O2, and was ready to be held!

Sadly ,our wait would be long.

Maeve, the Big Sis, ready to meet her boy.

Myles was too busy running around to be captured in film.

Eamon, resting with the cannula.

Looking Back - Part 4

I think we need to move things along...a bit.

The day before Eamon was to be born, remember - now there was a scheduled c-section, I busied myself like any nesting-mama-to-be would. Finishing up laundry, cleaning and primping all Eamon's sweet little things, readying our home for whatever lied ahead, 24 hours ahead, to be exact.

I was excited. We planned on a special dinner with Maeve and Myles complete with presents for the "Big Sister and Big Brother". The kids were dropped at Grandma's for an overnight - I needed to be at the hospital by 6 am. Kisses, hugs, and a quick swing by my parents' house. I felt peace-filled and told my family I was moving past praying and into praising. God knew all the details, He didn't need any last minute panic-prayers from me. I was just going to thank Him for my son's life, and jump in the front car for the roller coaster ride. We were making our ascent. And my arms were reaching for the sky.

As we lay in bed, I asked David if he was afraid to see the baby? What would he look like? The Drs believed Eamon's head would be tiny due to the lack of brain, and his body would be quite disproportionate. Overall, they anticipated a full-term baby that was significantly under weight. My husband's immediate response quieted any lingering fear - Eamon will look great, he'll be handsome and perfect in every way.

We drove to the hospital, emotions beginning to rise but peace still blanketing us. In the parking lot, David suddenly got sick. There was my partner, face in the gutter. Was it nerves or a virus? It didn't matter, the drs thought it wise for David to watch the birth from the hall. Thankfully my mom, dad, and sister had planned to be at the hospital to pray and wait, offering support with their mere presence. A quick phone call was made asking Mimi to join me in the delivery. She was ecstatic. Apparently, she hung up the phone and reported, "Well David's out and I'm in, let's go!" (such beautiful concern for my husband ). Mimi raced over, obeying all traffic laws, I'm sure!

Me...being prepped.

Drs Barclay and Rogers reporting for duty. How cute is Mimi?

If my mom was anxious, it never showed. We laughed at the turn of events, as a matter of fact, we laughed at just about everything. There was joy in that room as we prepared to meet our sweet prince. David could stand at the door, I could hear his voice, but not see him. His view was perfect, even better than by my head which is where my mom was perched, reporting every detail as we progressed.

The operating room was full - various drs and several intensive care nurses available, but a general atmosphere of anticipation arose - a baby would soon be born.

Looking Back - Part 3

This has been harder than I anticipated. There are just so many memories muddled together, they are hard to flesh-out into succinct posts.

Suffice it to say, we had a glimpse of the Body of Christ as it was intended to be - people prayed for us and our baby, wrote cards, called, and offered to help in every conceivable way. We were completely humbled, and still are, that anyone would choose to walk this road with us, lifting up a common voice to heaven on Eamon's behalf, and loving us through dark days.

My mom had updated my family so that I wouldn't need to repeat the painful verdict. I remember my sister, overcoming her own fears and insecurities, to stand with me for some difficult moments. I recall the first conversation I had with Jerry, my big brother, discussing the hard issues at stake - confessing to him my absolute belief that God could heal, but now that it had hit so closely home did I really believe God could heal my baby?

I prayed, as did many, for God to re-create Eamon, while at the same time knowing I would cherish him regardless of the answer. As his birth grew closer, I found my prayers simplified, all petitions having been made known, and now I could rest in praying the Our Father ...Thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.

Originally, it was agreed that I would deliver Eamon. I had a c-section with Myles, but the Drs felt it was an unnecessary risk for me to have surgery. Again, reminding me that the possibility of Eamon's survival was minimal. I was actually thrilled with the chance to deliver again. It was my initial request - to try a V-BAC (Maeve was delivered in a traditional manner - possibly too much info, right!)

An appointment was arranged for David and I to meet with Dr. Manginello, the director of the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit (NICU) at our hospital. He would be present at the birth along with two NICU nurses. Once the baby was born, he would resume the care for him, and the details of what type of "heroics" we wanted performed needed to be addressed.

I can vividly see the drawing he created that showed Eamon's head lacking brain, filled with fluid instead. I asked how I could feel the baby moving, as we spoke, if there was no brain. The Dr explained that there was a brain-stem which allowed for involuntary functions. Those movements were simply reactive. He compassionately posed various scenarios, even referring to Eamon as our son, that would require our thoughtful consideration. There were ways that they could keep our baby alive, for an indefinite period of time, if we desired. Questions that no mom or dad should ever have to evaluate needed answers that we simply didn't have. How could we, really, until they presented themselves in our reality. I prayed that God would not require that we determine life or death, that He would settle that on His own.

At about 36+ weeks, I was sent for a fetal MRI of Eamon's brain. Hoping to give a more accurate description/prognosis. Confusion was setting in, why was this baby still growing? The report was never elaborated on, strange for the perinatologist was usually quick to give a negative word. Actually, she never came back in to see me again. And now, as we were fast approaching my due date, Dr Death was nowhere to be found.

The fact that Eamon was still with us altered the birth plan. Suddenly, a c-section was back on the table. Eamon had enough problems, why add to it the trauma of birth. We were elated. Eamon was at the least viable enough to warrant surgery for me!

God was still at work preparing the way for the mister's debut!

Looking Back...Part 2

A whirlwind. That is the only way to describe the days that immediately followed. More tests, more discussions, more tears.



I was to be closely monitored. Weekly visits to the perinatologist for ultrasound checks. There was a belief that at some point Eamon would just stop growing. Having moved somewhat past the "how committed" question, the emerging topic was on "heroics" - namely, what kind we would want performed to save our doomed "fetus".



The term "fetus" was used up to the end. The Dr (the peri mainly) never allowed any personalization of our baby. She was brutally direct and condescending of our choice to continue the pregnancy. There was definite concern that we just weren't getting it - our baby would die, probably sooner rather than later. David and I were not the typical couple, I guess. Devastated, yes. Concerned, yes. Understanding the gravity and breadth of our baby's issues, yes. But destroyed, lacking hope, full of fear, no! We were unified in our faith, believing regardless of the outcome, Eamon was our gift and God's grace would be enough. Regardless.



The visits were difficult, each one seemed to intensify the prognosis. David was with me for the initial scans, but there were too many for the possibility of joint appointments. I would try to prepare myself for each visit with Dr. Death, as she became known. I would literally lie on the table listening to her report on the present status of the my baby, and repeat "Do not fear, Tracy, your prayer has been heard!" After most meetings I would need the rest of the day, sometimes days, to gather myself back together. I would keep to my very-tight-inner-circle until I felt strong enough to reenter the world.



As providence would have it I was already the mother of two small children, Maeve -4 and Myles-2. Life needed to be normal for them. And, looking back I can only say that in my utter weakness, and at my lowest point, God was strong in me. "My grace is sufficient for you, for My power is made perfect in weakness." (2 Cor 12:9) There could be no other explanation.



I had been looking for a bible study weeks before the ultrasound. The first day of which was the morning of my exam. That placement was divine. God's word became life, literally, to my body and soul. I could not be near a scripture verse without a deep resonance within my spirit.

We were studying the Old Testament, blood shed and a culture vastly different from ours, but amidst these ancient men and women of faith God poured himself into our hearts. In the book of Numbers, twelve Israelite leaders, one representing each of the tribes of Israel, were sent to spy out the promised land - Canaan. Ten return disheartened, filled with fear for the giants they saw, and discouraged Israel from pursuing the land God had promised to them. But Joshua and Caleb returned with excitement. Indeed, Canaan was a land flowing with milk and honey. And yes, there were giants in the land, but surely their God was bigger than any giant to be encountered.

Perspective makes all the difference. The men all saw the same scene. The 10 had only man's perspective. It was limited and could easily be defeated. Joshua and Caleb saw the challenges in Canaan through God's perspective. Suddenly, my situation was illuminated for me. The Drs saw the truth, but left no room for God. David and I knew that surely there were giants in the land, but believed they were no match for our God!

Our promised land was Eamon safe in our arms.

Looking Back - Part 1

In two weeks we will be celebrating two years with Eamon Joseph! For the sake of posterity and in thanksgiving, I plan to write a series of posts detailing the arrival of our Prince. I will break it down, both for ease of reading and for me, so that I can emotionally reabsorb the experiences.

Okay, brace yourselves for this picture...

Yes, "Lord have mercy" is an appropriate reaction. I am good-and- 9 months pregnant, actually this is about 5 in the morning and David and I are preparing to go have ourselves a baby...it is February 3, 2007 - Eamon's birth-day.

The frontal view is easier on the eyes. I find it amazing how calm we were, fear was not a part of that day, even though the delivery room would be filled with nay-sayers.

As I have mentioned in earlier posts, we were given a near-fatal diagnosis at our 20 week ultrasound.

I remember the late afternoon appointment, we were giddy - knowing already the baby was our second son, asking the technician all sorts of questions about his size and giving voice to dreams for our little man. The woman was awfully quiet, we barely noticed answers weren't forthcoming. As the exam was ending, she mentioned the Dr would be in to talk with us.

Confused, we sat waiting in the dimly lit room, unaware that our world was about to change - forever. The Dr., a specialist (perinatologist) available at the ultrasound location slipped in, quieting the firing of questions, and began her own exam. It seemed like an eternity until she finally spoke. Gravely, she reported that the baby had fluid in the right and left ventricles of his brain. Ultimately, this would lead to great obstacles in development. Obstacles that could not be overcome, a congenital brain abnormality.

An amniocentesis was suggested, for understanding and potential information that would guide my personal care related to delivery. We agreed, completely at peace with a procedure I never thought would be an option. Literally, lights turned on, a parade of people were in and out (Drs, techs, genetic counselor), my OB was being reached, and the amnio would be done immediately.

David and I had a few minutes alone. We were in shock, I can not recall all our words, but I clearly remember through tears our prayer that God would be near, giving us wisdom, peace and healing for our baby.

The needle was long, the Dr watched on the same ultrasound screen that reported our nightmare, as she pierced my skin and uterus. You could easily see the needle gathering DNA information. To our delight, you could also clearly see our boy reaching for the intruder in his space. Eamon was trying to grab the needle, actually boxing with it. Our very own "Fighting Irish", Eamon was a fighter. Alive and responding. A balm for our wounded hearts.

We left after further discussion of options - "How committed to this pregnancy are you?" A question that would be asked countless times in the next few weeks. There is no hope of correction. Your baby will most likely not make it to term, if the baby does he will not live for very long. There is no hope for this "fetus".

David's mom was home watching Maeve and Myles. God was gracious, Maeve was supposed to be at that ultrasound appointment to see our baby for the first time. I called my mom, numbly gave her the report, asked for prayer and to please call my family. I did not have the strength to retell the scenario.

We talked a bit. God was so involved from the start. In my heart I was at peace, knowing Eamon was perfect in God's eyes, and believing He could intervene on my baby's behalf.

At my sink, a couple of hours having passed, I looked on the windowsill spotting a little lamb Myles had made earlier in the day. My eyes stung with a flood of tears as I read God's voice to me , "Do not be afraid...your prayer has been heard" (Luke 1:13). I have never heard an audible voice, but that simply verse spoke, no screamed, to my spirit, rivaling any human voice.

That word was all it took to set our position - no fear, all trust, God had a plan.

Our Worth

Eamon's chair, the chair, has arrived. Long anticipated, grossly overdue.

It is called a Kid Kart, promising custom-support for the Prince. Our insurance does not cover it, and so, graciously Mary's Fund has offered to gift Eamon with hope-in-a-seat.

Certainly, there are many features of the chair/stroller option that will enhance Eamon's ability to participate in everyday-living-type experiences. We are still tweaking, making adjustments for comfort both in the chair - and, truth be told, in us.

The chair is great, but it comes at a cost. Literally, a price tag that could choke had it not been for Mary, precious Mary. And, for us our new normal changes again. The seating/stroller I have are outgrown, but comfortable. They are all the right size, drawing minimal attention, fitting neatly in my car, and carried about with ease. That has changed. I know this feeling is temporary, soon this will be normal and fit quite well - just like any addition of equipment before. But change, for better or worse, costs something.

Eamon, saddled up and ready to go, well not really- the stroller base is in my car.

Checking out his new toy courtesy of his Fairy Godmother

Me, checking Eamon out. Precious.

This month happens to celebrate the Sanctity of Human Life - a month set apart to honor life in all its shapes and sizes. When I think of Eamon, and Mary, I am reminded that not everyone shares my deep regard for all life. Eamon is not like other children, and in my womb that recognition caused a bit of tension between some Drs and us.

We were asked, somewhat brutally, how committed to such a pregnancy we were. Even after explaining our position, the question was revisited over-and-over. I can appreciate the need to be sure I had all the information, and options, available. But after that point was made, repeatedly, I would have liked to move on without the pallor of judgement that remained.

We live in a disposable society - if something does not work, throw it away. To many, Eamon would have fit such a category. Our value is measured in contribution and productivity, right? But, knowing that each human life, its essence, is imprinted with the image of God alters my view. We were, and still are, able to rest in the belief that God has chosen to display His splendor in and through our little man. Our value, or worth, was set by God. And He said we were worth the cross. Yes, Eamon was worth God's son. There it is. Set.

I am thankful that long before there was a thought of Eamon, I had already wrestled with a decision that would be asked of me years later. There was no need for deliberation. I knew the instant the question arose. "Yes, we are all the way committed to this baby!"

As I continue on my mom-journey, I realize more and more that our ideas of perfection are highly overrated! True perfection is only defined by our Creator. And He does all things well.

Wishing You...

a Rockin' New Year.

I know I am days late for a New Year's greeting, and well-beyond Christmas cards, but I had such ideas for a fun card..ahh, maybe for 2010!

In the meantime, here are Maeve, Myles and Eamon sending lots of love- loudly!

Santa was quite generous, creating a band of sorts. Eamon so enjoys that beating, and I do mean beating, of the drums - he laughs and laughs. Not pictured would be the microphone and amplifier - I said loud, right?

In 2009, may we find many reasons to sing, make music, and dance!