Melanie’s pregnancy was normal so there
was no reason for her to think her delivery
would be like this! On July 28, 2010 her life
would change forever. And praise God, His
hands and angels were on the scene. Read
how the love and support and prayers from
her husband, alongside God’s grace and love
delivered both mom and baby home safely.
Read Melanie and Doug’s story about
bringing little Gabriella into this world and
saving mom’s life. It’s truly a God moment!!
Per Melanie: On July 28, 2010, I delivered my
child in the maternity ward of one hospital,
only to wake up days later in the ICU of
another hospital across town, not knowing
how I had even gotten there. Shocked, I sat
and listened as my family told what had
taken place during the past three days. I
tried to recall them. But I had no memory. I
drew a blank.
The following is a story handed down to me
from my husband and many others about my
untimely death and miraculous survival.
Code Blue
While I was in the hospital preparing to
deliver my baby girl after 39 long weeks, I
signaled to the nurse that something was
wrong. I was light-headed and felt somewhat
nauseous. I felt as though I was going to
pass out. The nurse attempted to reposition
me and try to determine the cause of my
light-headedness. There was no indication
from my vitals that something was amiss.
Then I slumped to my side, apparently
having what seemed like a mild seizure. My
husband, who was standing at the end of the
bed, witnessed my heart rate and blood
pressure flash zero on my monitors. Our
unborn child’s heart rate began to plummet
precipitously. My skin had turned a deep
blue. I was not breathing and had no heart
rate. I had suffered cardiac arrest. I was
clinically dead, and my baby was still inside
of my body.
Doctors signaled code blow Code Blue and a
team of staff whisked me to the operating
room (OR). My husband later told me that he
prayed in these words:
“God, I know that this is more than I can
handle, which means you have a plan and a
purpose in this, and I trust you; but please, if
it is your will, allow me to hold my wife
again.” He said he has never felt more
helpless and afraid in all his life.
By now family and friends had begun to
congregate and they all grabbed hands and
began to pray. Soon after they began to text,
email, Tweet, and post statuses on Facebook,
asking people to pray for me. The domino
effect began to happen. By the end of that
day, I was the number one Googled person in
Phoenix and one of the top 100 people
Twittered about, as the prayer requests went
viral.
In the OR, doctors worked feverishly to save
both me and my unborn child. Miraculously,
we both survived this initial insult.
After our baby was delivered via C-section,
my husband went to see our daughter in the
nursery, not knowing if I was dead or alive.
As he wiped the tears from his face, the
nurses asked him the baby’s name.
“Gabriella,” he replied, the “heroine of God.”
A nurse told my husband that after
repeatedly using the defibrillator and
beginning CPR they had been able to get a
faint heartbeat. I had been without oxygen or
a pulse for around 10 minutes. They spent
over an hour and a half trying to resuscitate
me.
The head of the ICU told those gathered that
I had likely experienced an amniotic fluid
embolism (AFE), which is usually fatal. The
doctors had stabilized me but did not believe
I would survive and encouraged my family to
say their ‘goodbyes.’
My husband came to my bedside. He took
hold of my hand and said: “I love you; I will
always love you. Brady and Gabriella are
beautiful and love you. If you have any fight
left, then fight. Despite my hopes, promise
me that you will follow your guardian angel
wherever he leads you. Where he leads you
will be where God needs you.”
From there things went from extremely bad
to worse. I received two blood transfusions
and was going into DIC, a condition of erratic
blood clotting. While performing the
emergency C-section doctors had
accidentally cut an artery, so they had to
perform another emergency surgery to stop
the bleeding.
Miraculously, I survived this surgery as well,
but because the doctors found five liters of
blood in my abdomen, they had to pack down
my belly (simply put, they stuffed my belly
full of towels to compress the bleeding). As a
result, they could not close my abdomen, so I
was still open with an increased risk for
infection for over 12 more hours.
Because of the heart failure, my “ejection
fraction” was only 5% (normal is between
55% and 65%). Basically my heart was barely
pumping. My lungs had failed and a
respirator was breathing for me at 100%. I
was still unconscious and doctors thought
that even if I did survive I would be
neurologically impaired. I was transferred to
another hospital an hour away in extreme
critical condition. This hospital had an ECMO
machine, which works for the heart and
lungs.
Our friend, who is also the priest that
witnessed our vows at our wedding, was with
my husband at the second hospital. He said
to Doug, “Wow, when you got married, this is
what you said ‘yes’ to. For better or for
worse; in sickness and in health.”
The doctors at the new hospital wanted to
perform another surgery to remove the
packing from my open abdomen and stitch
me up. But just before doing this, they
withheld some of the sedation to more
accurately assess my neurological state.
As Doug entered my room with my sister, he
saw that my eyes were open and looking
around. “Hey babe,” he said, without
hesitation. I turned and he looked at me and
my eyes began to well up with tears. It was
clear to him that I was neither brain-dead
nor impaired.
Worried that I may not make it through the
operation, they showed me a photo of
Gabriella. I began to cry. Momma bear must
have come out, because I began to twist and
turn to get out of my bed. They sedated me
once more and wheeled me off to surgery.
For the first time my family felt some
optimism, even though the odds of my
surviving the surgery were slim.
However, the surgery was successful, and
from that point a miraculous recovery began
to unfold. Within the next 24 hours, I was
weaned off of all medications, except for pain
medication. I was breathing on my own.
Doug entered my room and sat next to me.
He tells me that I touched his face and said,
“Hey babe, how are you?” He laughed and
kissed my hand and cried.
He said he cried for joy and thanked God for
this grace. I Praise Him!
Although I have no memory of this incredible
event in my life, I am grateful to be alive and
to hold my husband and children in my arms
daily. I am thankful for every Facebook post,
Tweet, and articles written and posted, who
reached out and asked others to pray for me,
a stranger.
Words cannot express my gratitude for the
multitude of prayers that covered me
throughout this traumatic event. I am happy
to say, the prayers worked! Thanks to the
hands of doctors, nurses, many blood donors,
and an ever-merciful God, Gabriella and I are
alive and well and I have made a full
recovery.
It has been almost four years, and there isn’t
a day that goes by that I don’t thank the
Lord for allowing me to survive something
very few live to talk about.
I thank the Lord for inspiring me to choose a
pro-life hospital. I thank God for allowing
Doug, Brady, Gabriella, and me to be a family
again and for allowing me another
opportunity to speak of God’s infinite grace,
mercy, and love for all of us.
God has the power to take us from the
depths of darkness, even the darkness of
death, and bring us to the light, and for that,
I praise Him!
source:godvine.com
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