But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong. - 2 Corinthians 12:9-10

Often times we want God to remove our weaknesses. We plead in prayer that our afflictions, our troubles, or our difficulties might vanish into thin air, leaving in their place the comfort and familiarity we so desperately desire. That’s what Paul wanted when he asked God to remove the thorn from his flesh, but God said no. God’s not in the business of giving us easy lives. Wonderful lives? Yes. Fulfilling lives? Yes. Lives that show His faithfulness and unending grace? Definitely. But easy? Not so much. For it’s in this discomfort, this pain, this difficulty that we learn about the heart of the Giver. In my own experience, leaning into the struggle and leaning on God - which is hard for my independent spirit - leads me to a closer walk with Him, a closer look at the goodness He provides, even in the midst of some of life’s most difficult situations. Leaning into His grace when there’s no other option has led me to a deeper understanding of the love and power of Christ, and led me to a place where I’m able to be a little less bitter about the weakness this world boasts. I’d like to say I have no bitterness left in my heart, but that’s just not true.

I questioned God a lot about how Corrie came into this world. I was angry with Him for taking away the birth story we had so carefully planned and replacing it with one we hadn’t even conceived of. It’s been 8 weeks and I’m just starting to come to a place where there’s a little more understanding than there is bitterness. I’m writing this with a precious baby sleeping on my chest, and that makes it really hard to be upset. While I’m still disappointed and I think I always will be, I’m also in awe of God’s working and I’m so grateful for the miracle He’s given us in Corrie.

On Monday evening, March 2, I was sitting still on the couch after having a sugary drink, hoping that baby would start kicking. I hadn’t felt her much that day - or that weekend, really - and I felt like something might be wrong. I moved to the floor and laid down, asking Paul to come talk to her since that always seemed to get her to move. Still nothing. Her little foot was sitting up by my ribs and I tried pressing down on it but she still wouldn’t move. I was hesitant to go to the hospital because I had a doctor’s appointment first thing the next day and I’d read that babies don’t move as much the last few weeks. But I couldn’t shake the nagging feeling (the Holy Spirit, perhaps) that something was wrong. Paul called the Orange City hospital and told them we were coming in. I grabbed my hospital bag and phone charger on the way out the door - I think subconsciously I knew I wouldn’t be coming home that night.

When we got to the hospital we were led back to the birthing center where I was hooked up to two monitors to hear baby’s heartbeat. I started crying when those strong beats came over the speaker. What a relief it was to hear our baby girl was still alive. It may sound silly that that’s where my mind had gone, but with two losses in our past it’s always where my mind goes.

The nurse told us she was going to leave me hooked up to the monitors for a few minutes like they do with everyone that comes in, and she would send the results to our doctor and get the OK from him that everything was fine. Feeling relieved, Paul and I sat holding hands while I tried to compose myself. A minute later the nurse came rushing back in and told me I had had a contraction and asked if I had felt anything, which I hadn’t. She didn’t love how baby’s heart rate had responded to the contraction (I think normally a baby’s heart rate jumps during a contraction and hers had gone down) so she asked me to lay on my left side. Another contraction came and her heart rate still didn’t respond in the way that it was supposed to.

Another nurse came in and told me she was going to put an IV in my hand, just in case. They told me they were waiting to hear back from our doctor on what they had seen. They were all very kind and very calm, but I knew something was wrong. Within a few minutes our doctor came into the room, and he, too, was very calm, but his face gave away that something serious was going on.

“Hey guys, you’re going to have a baby tonight.”

Several nurses were in the room now, helping me into a hospital gown, hooking up the appropriate monitors, inserting an IV. I don’t remember much, but I do remember our doctor saying baby didn’t seem to be getting any oxygen, and it was dangerous. All I kept saying was please make sure she’s ok.

“Do you guys have a name for your baby?” our doctor asked.

We really hadn’t decided on one. We had had a few we were thinking of, but I knew what we were supposed to call her. I looked at Paul.

“Corrie?”

“Sure.”

Paul said he was going to call our doula, and I’m so glad he had the foresight to do that. I’m so glad he didn’t have to wait alone.

Within a few minutes I was in the operating room being put out. From sitting down on the hospital bed to the time Corrie was born was 9:15 to 9:58.

I don’t remember much of what happened next, so I’m going to share part of the birth story we received from our doula:

Baby girl was born at 9:58PM and the nurse stopped by to pick up Paul on the way to the nursery with the baby. I came up to the nursery window to watch. Apparently, Baby girl was not breathing when she was born. Patty the Respiratory therapist went to work and it was incredible to watch the team. Paul stayed strong and watched the team work on his baby girl. I encouraged him with smiles and reminders to take pictures. We watched the baby girl’s chest rise up and down with each breath. It was amazing to watch them place the IV in her umbilical cord and then carefully suture it up. 

The Sioux Falls NICU team was called immediately. In an emergency c-section they use general anesthesia as there is not enough time for an epidural. Dr. Locker was finishing up the surgery and it would still be some time before Lauren was in recovery and ready for us to go and see her. Lauren would have a long vertical incision to remind her of the day that she bravely saved her daughter’s life by trusting her doctors to deliver her baby in the fastest way possible. There would not be room in the helicopter for Paul so they prepared directions for him to drive. Everyone was just in a large amount of shock as Lauren was only 36 weeks pregnant. 

At 10:43 PM the vent was taken off and we heard baby girl cry. Such a beautiful sound to match her beautiful dark hair. Paul was able to look at an X-ray with Dr. Turek they thought there may be an air pocket near her lung. They did a second X-ray and it was all clear. Dr. Hanson was amazed. Baby was still struggling but improving and it was good to hear her sweet cry. At 10:54 PM we could hear the helicopter coming in. 

11:00 PM As they prepared for the NICU team to take over there was some space and I encouraged Paul to go over and hold baby’s hand. He was surprised by the grip! They were able to get an accurate weight of 6lbs 6 oz which is a really good size for her age! 

At 11:39 PM Paul and I went with Dr. Hanson to see Lauren. He shared that the baby was breathing on her own, but she was under stress for a while and that the cord was around her neck. 

Just before midnight I was able to meet baby girl for the first time and officially say out loud that her name is Corrie Jan Kleyer. I was able to hold her for just a few minutes before they took her onto the helicopter. That was the longest and shortest few minutes of my life. I wasn’t able to do skin to skin like we had planned. I wasn’t able to breastfeed like we had planned. I hadn’t had a vaginal birth like we had planned. But Corrie was alive. She was breathing.

We were then told about the cooling treatment they were encouraging us to try with Corrie. When a baby loses oxygen the way she did, they are at risk for seizures and acid in the blood. She was very stressed and had a lot of meconium in the sac. Her metabolic acidosis rate was -14 and getting worse. They normally don’t allow the cooling treatment for babies under 36 weeks, Corrie was born at 35 weeks 6 days, but it was after midnight by the time she got to Sioux Falls, making her 36 weeks. She was on antibiotics and the nurse practitioner guessed 2-3 weeks in the NICU.

Paul sat with me for a few minutes, then headed up to Sioux Falls to be with Corrie around 12:30 am.

It’s a weird feeling to wake up not pregnant, with no baby to hold, and no husband to comfort you.

I’m so glad our doula stayed with me for a while. I didn’t want to call and wake up our family since there was nothing they could do, anyway.

I had to stay in the hospital until Wednesday morning. I was gunning for a Tuesday release, but in hindsight it was good they kept me an extra day. My sister drove me home so I could shower and pack, and then she drove me to Sioux Falls. While that was probably the longest drive of my life, we both said we had an overwhelming sense of peace that everything was going to be ok.

I can’t even explain to you the relief, the guilt, the love, and the frustration that I felt being able to see Corrie for the first time since she left on the helicopter. She was hooked up to so many cords, she was laying on a pad that kept her cool, and she was on some meds that kept her comfortable and asleep - she was still the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.

Corrie was in the NICU for 12 days. Paul and I were able to stay at the Ronald McDonald house during that time, though Paul usually ended up staying in the room with Corrie. It was a long 12 days filled with brain scans, talk of seizures, cautions that she might have brain damage, and so many unknowns about her future. But it was also 12 days filled with such community. I was reminded yet again how big our God is and how important it is to be surrounded by other believers. We had a hard time praying for ourselves during that time, most of my prayers ended sounding something like, “Please God, heal her, Help her to be ok.” It was the biggest blessing to have hundreds of people praying for our little girl and for us. God likes to remind me that I can’t do this life alone, and this was the sweetest example. He spoke so softly to my heart during those 12 days and for that I’m so thankful. He reminded me yet again that though I make plans and do my best to see them through, He’s the ultimate Giver and our lives are in His hands. What a comfort. What a blessing.

Test after test came back clear. She passed all the milestones they wanted her to hit. She woke up after the cooling treatment without seizures. She ate. She pooped. She cried. Miracle after miracle. I know there are so, so many stories that start like ours and don’t end up like ours. I don’t think I’ll ever get over God’s mercy in our lives and I’ll never tire of telling of His goodness to us.

I’ll forever be grateful for our wonderful doctor, the knowledge and skills of the Orange City team, and for the Sanford NICU. I’ll also probably cry every time I think about the miracle God has given us in our baby girl, and all the prayers and love that surrounded us when we needed it most. If you prayed for us, thank you. From the bottom of my heart, you’ll never know how much it means to us. Looking at Corrie will forever be a reminder of God’s love and grace, of how our plans are nothing compared to His, and how He can make such beauty out of ashes.