Mighty Mac

 

Mighty Mac

My husband James and I had been praying for a baby and when we found out this past summer that I was pregnant we were so happy. I had friends who were pregnant and some who had had miscarriages, so we were just happy and thankful. At eight weeks we did a gender test and found out our baby was a boy. James told me on one of our first dates, “If we have a baby boy together, he will be James Victor McDade III. He’ll be Mac.” His grandfather went by Mac in his older age and we thought it would be sweet if our baby was Mac too.

At twenty weeks it all started to hit me that this was real. We had a scan that day and everything was great. We could even see his cute little nose. 

Four weeks later, the day before Thanksgiving, I went to the bathroom and immediately knew I was in labor. I’d never been in labor before, but I knew! We went to our local hospital and found I was already four centimeters dilated. They said you can either labor him out or we can transfer you to Greenville, because we don’t think he’s going to make it and we can’t deal with him here. We wanted to give our baby every chance we could, so they put me in an ambulance and rushed me to Greenville. They gave me some drugs to try to stop the labor and some steroids to help our baby’s lungs mature. “You’ll have him tonight,” they said, but I was determined to do whatever we needed to do to keep him inside as long as I could.

They told us Mac would be really tiny. We want to save Mac, they said, but you need to understand he’ll probably have brain bleeds and disabilities and on and on. I was so scared I couldn’t process it. Saturday night, I started having contractions and on Sunday they broke my water because the contractions were dropping Mac’s heart rate. Then out came Mac! One pound, nine ounces, and all eleven inches of him. Because he had been face up he was black. He wasn’t making any noise. 

From where I was in the hospital bed, I didn’t know if he was alive or not. This is your son, they said. High risk team, labor and delivery team, NICU team. A room full of people. Eighty degrees in there so no temperature drop for the babies. Intubating him so he could breathe. James saying, “He’s here! He’s so beautiful.” It was a relief for James, Mac is here, Allie’s okay. This shouldn’t be our story, I thought. Mac was whisked away to the NICU with James while I waited for my epidural to wear off.

The NICU was big and open and full of babies of every size. I finally got to see Mac again and his nurses were like, he’s so feisty. Mac has a personality? Already? Then came the mountains of medical information; the medicines, the equipment, the people. We were in the hospital with everything touch and go for a few days. Mac fighting for life. Then James and I were suddenly discharged. He’s gonna be good as long as he doesn’t get an infection, they said. I remember meeting a nurse named Megan when Mac was first born and I wrote this in my journal to Mac: “Today I met a nurse named Megan. She came up to me at your bedside to let me know she had been praying for you. It was the first time I realized the NICU nurses are so aware of how close they are to the spiritual realm with saving lives like yours.” 

Then Mac got a blood infection and his weight dropped to one pound, four ounces. Such a tiny guy losing weight he could not afford to lose. They had to do a spinal tap on him. How can you do that on such a little person? He’d been alive for twenty days and I was just starting to let myself get connected to him. And now I came to understand that we could still very much lose him and if we did, I didn’t know if I could continue to live. 

We stayed in Greenville near Mac for three weeks. I felt confident that God “knew” what He was doing in our story, but I didn’t know why He chose us. I loved Him and trusted Him, but I didn’t know why we had to see Mac like this. 

After twenty days Mac’s infection cleared up. Nurse Megan said, “I want you to know that you can take a breath. You’re going to be taking Mac home through your doors.” I just wept because I thought everyone in there was thinking there’s no way. But to know that his nurses were praying and believing that for him was just huge! And from that point I began to think, wait, maybe Mac will make it. We will bring a baby home through our doors.

In January he was finally off the ventilator after four times being extubated. He also hit three pounds and I was like, “Oh my gosh. Mac is such a real baby.” I’d go up in the morning and come home around lunchtime and then we’d go back together in the evening. No one could or would say when Mac might come home. It’s hard doing things and not knowing an end date.

Finally, on April 13, 2022, Mac was discharged. He was discharged on oxygen and with a g-tube (a feeding tube). The week before, when he got his g-tube placed, everyone said this is routine, it’s gonna be fine. Then the team couldn’t get the ventilator placed to do the surgery and his heart rate went really low and they had to do chest compressions. I thought the hard and scary things were over. But surgery is not normal. A g-tube is not normal. A ventilator is not normal. Just because we’re not fighting for his life every minute anymore, it doesn’t mean it’s all said and done. Even last night, six months out, we were in the ER for breathing issues till 4 a.m.

I remember praying the day Mac was born and asking James, are you mad at God? “No. Not mad,” he said. “Just confused.” I understood. I never thought this would be our story, but I’ve been connected with moms with premature babies and we’ve helped each other. It’s made me be exactly the mom Mac needs. It has woven my heart so deeply within every part of Mac’s being from what we have been through together. It has reminded me why I love and honor my husband James, who fought so faithfully for our son beside me, and still does today. It has shown me how intimately God loves me and fights for me, and I hope I would believe that cornerstone of truth no matter what our outcome looked like. When I was five weeks pregnant this was my journal entry:

August 6th, 2021.

I’ve been waiting 5 weeks for this. Our first appointment! I just need someone to tell me you’re really there. You’re really okay and you’re really growing. It feels too good to be true. She put cold jelly on me and moved the wand around… “that’s a strong heart beat!” Thank you, God. It was really you, buddy! You were alive! You had a heart! A heart that was beating!

All these days later, it’s still you Mac. And I couldn’t love you more if I tried.

Allie McDade, Anderson, SC

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