Life with Cooper-Part 2: Ready or Not...

For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my Mother's womb. Your eyes saw my unformed body; all the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be. Psalms 139:13 & 16


To say that finding out I was pregnant with Cooper was a surprise would be a bit of an understatement. It was January 2004. Cole had just turned 7 years old the month before. I was fast approaching my 30th birthday and, though we hadn't been trying to get pregnant, we hadn't been doing anything to prevent it for quite some time. I had taken dozens of pregnancy tests over the years, but it had just never happened. I was beginning to think that maybe Cole was going to be an only child, although my heart still ached for at least one more baby.

 By this time, I was working for a durable medical equipment company that specialized in respiratory equipment and care. I had just accepted a position as Location Manager at our Morristown, TN site. That very night, I went home and took yet another pregnancy test. I was late, but that was not unusual for me. My cycles had never been what anybody would consider "normal". This happened so frequently that I actually had 4 pregnancy tests on hand. I really expected it to be negative, but there was always that little bit of hope, you know? So before I let those hopes get too high, I would take the test, see that it was negative, and move on. Imagine my shock when I saw that little blue plus sign! I just stared at it. My heart started to pound. I took another test. Blue plus sign again! I took another one...and another. Okay, so I had to go drink something in between, but I took all 4 of those pregnancy tests! I believe if I had had more I would have taken those too! I just knew it had to be a mistake!

I remember sitting on the stairs watching for Scott's headlights to come down the driveway. When he finally walked in, I met him at the door and said, "I'm pregnant." and burst into tears. It wasn't that I was unhappy, it was just too much. Now? I'm pregnant NOW? I had just accepted that new job, and I would be 30 when the baby was born, and I had gotten rid of ALL the baby stuff, and, well, it had been a really long time since I had been around a baby, much less had to take care of one, and, and, and...my mind was just racing. But I would come to know that God's timing was perfect and deep down I was really, really happy. Scott was too. Cole, however, was not. When we told him he got mad! He did not want a new baby coming in and taking any of his attention away. He had been an only child for 7 years, after all. Nope, no baby. No, he did not want a little brother or sister. And no, he did not want to talk about it. Period. Oh well! He'd come around. He'd have to, because, ready or not, we were having a baby!

During my first pregnancy with Cole, my blood pressure became an issue within the first trimester. At 23 weeks I went into labor for the first time. I had problems from that point on, taking Brethine to prevent preterm labor, eventually going on bed rest and then being induced at 38 weeks. After he was born,  the high blood pressure persisted and I was officially diagnosed with Chronic Hypertension. I was 22 years old. Eight years later, we knew the likelihood of me having a normal pregnancy was low. As expected, my blood pressure began to creep up with each prenatal visit. By my 20th week, my doctor started me on blood pressure medication. This began a battle we would fight for the next 14 weeks. My blood pressure would not stay down. Any activity or stress made it shoot up to dangerously high levels. I began to have dizzy spells and swelling in my legs and feet. By May, my doctor was strongly advising me to slow down and cut my work hours back. My new job as Location Manager was proving to be a bit taxing on my little pregnant body. The site was a one hour drive from our house-one way. We were preparing for a big JCAHO inspection which required me to work 10-12 hour days to make sure every "i" was dotted and every "t" was crossed. It was a big deal and my first big responsibility as a location manager and I meant to do my absolute best. I was an idiot, and I am lucky I didn't kill me and Cooper both in the process! The Lord definitely had his hand on me during that time. I can clearly remember getting into my car to drive that hour home with my feet so swollen I would have to take my shoes off and I could barely feel the pedals because the bottoms of my feet would be numb!

I just knew I was having a girl! I had this crazy idea that I would name her Cloe (Chloe without the h-I said it was crazy!) so that her and Cole's names would have the same letters. I was so sure it was a girl that while in the Tommy Hilfiger outlet in Pigeon Forge one day,  I picked out her outfit to go home from the hospital in, complete with matching bib, booties and blanket! It was pink and adorable. Scott made me put it back. He never doubted for a minute it would be anything but another boy. Cole too had decided it was a boy. A boy whose name would be Enoch! That's right, Enoch from the Bible. Cole was attending Gateway Christian School at the time and that is who they were studying. He was so adamant about it that I was afraid no matter what we named this child, girl or boy, it would be called Enoch.

On the 29th of April, Scott and I went to find out the sex of our baby. I took my Big Book of Baby Names and searched for the perfect girl's name (there was no need to look at boys names, I was sure!) I anxiously waited for my name to be called for the ultrasound. I practically jumped on the table. I could not wait to prove Scott wrong! The ultrasound tech started bantering back and forth with us as she squirted jelly on my belly and started taking measurements. "Get on with it!" I was thinking. "You do want to know what it is?" she asked. Yes, yes, yes! I can't remember if she asked us what we wanted it to be or if we just told her, but when she looked at Scott, I knew...it was a boy. I would be a big liar if I told you I was not disappointed. I knew this was likely the last child I would have and I wanted a little girl so badly. Scott was thrilled, and after about 5 minutes, I was too. After all, I did know a thing or two about taking care of boys. I knew Cole would be happy. As soon as we got in the car I pulled that Big Book of Baby names back out. The middle name was a no brainer: Cole's first name is James after Scott whose whole name is James Scott. This baby would also be named after his daddy; Scott would be his middle name. I liked the name Riley, but Scott vetoed that one. So, I went to the A's and started calling out names randomly. When I got to the C's and called out Cooper, Scott liked that one. He had worked with a guy a few years back who had a son named Cooper and had liked it then. Cooper Scott sounded good to us both. Cooper Scott he would be.

After the inspection in June, I finally consented to cut back my hours at work. First to 4 days a week and then to half days. I was intermittently put on bed rest when the pressures got dangerously high. Medicines would be increased or added, the pressures would come down a bit, then back to work I would go. I was trying to work as long as I possibly could. I knew I would be off for at least 6 weeks after the baby was born. I didn't want to inconvenience other managers any longer than absolutely necessary, as they were having to take care of all the managerial duties at my location as well as their own while I was out. Cooper's official due date was September 19, 2004. My doctor was determined to get me to at least 38 weeks and then induce. I had six ultrasounds during my pregnancy. The last ultrasound showed a decrease in amniotic fluid, which would be one of the factors that led to my labor being induced 6 weeks early. But in every ultrasound Cooper seemed completely normal and completely healthy. We had no reason to believe anything was wrong with our little guy.

On August 5th, I went in to my doctor's office for a blood pressure check. While I was there they put me on a monitor and found that I was contracting at a pretty regular rate, 5 to 6 minutes apart. I was 33 weeks pregnant. My doctor was off that day, so the doctor on call sent me over to labor and delivery.  The plan was to give me some brethine, monitor me until the contractions stopped and then send me home. This was totally unexpected, but I had been through things like this when I was pregnant with Cole. I figured I would be there 2, 3 hours tops and then go home. Unfortunately, things went from bad to worse. I would not be going home again for 10 long days. And when I did go home I would be accompanied by a very tiny, very premature newborn. Ready or not, we were about to have this baby!!