Stevenson, Connor Ryan

[left:4b9a5109a8]http://www.cherubs-cdh.org/Album/new/stevenson2.jpg[/left:4b9a5109a8]My husband and I were thrilled and giddy when we discovered I was pregnant June 1999. My pregnancy was a fairly kind one—my first trimester, marked by mild nausea and extreme fatigue but no sickness. My second trimester was great, although I never felt my baby move as much as I thought I would. By my third trimester, his lack of major movement was a great concern to my mom, who is also a labor and delivery nurse. I believed he was simply a calm baby, but the soon-to-be grandma wanted me to have non-stress tests every week to monitor my baby boy. The strips were always acceptable but not great, so I went to see a perinatologist. After he did a detailed ultrasound, it appeared that our baby had a double-nuchal cord, meaning his cord was wrapped around his neck twice, so it was decided that I should just be monitored twice a week. At 37 weeks gestation, I had an amniocentesis test to determine the baby’s lung maturity. They were very mature, so the doctor decided to induce me 3 weeks early, just to be safe.

I labored fairly quickly, despite being induced, and the delivery went very well. Surprisingly, the cord was not a problem at all during labor and delivery. When he came out, the cord had loosened itself and was very limply wrapped only once around his neck. He weighed 5 pounds, 9 ounces, and was the most perfect, beautiful baby. We named him Connor Ryan-- Ryan after his daddy, and Connor, so he would have his mommy’s initials. Already I loved him immensely. As we held our precious, tiny blessing, we wondered what all the fuss had been about. We wouldn’t know until a few weeks later, that all the worry and precautions resulting in an early induction, would prove life saving and miraculous.

At almost 3 weeks old, Connor attended his very first Church meeting. We left early because Connor had been spitting up bile that past week and had been doing it again Sunday morning. I had called the doctor earlier in the week when he began spitting up bile, and the doctor said it was normal and not to worry unless he seemed sick in other ways. Connor had also started bobbing his head up and down when he breathed, but not all the time. When I mentioned it to the doctor, he listened to his chest sounds and decided the head bobbing must simply be one of those unusual infant reflexes. But Sunday night, Connor spit up some bile and couldn’t stop gagging afterwards. I waited for it to stop as it usually did, but he kept gagging, struggling to catch his breath. Ryan called the doctor-on-call but had to leave our number on his pager. As Connor went paler and looked more and more helpless, I knew we couldn’t wait for the doctor to call us back. We rushed to the emergency room.

The triage nurse took him back immediately, and doctors and nurses swarmed to the room, giving him oxygen and calling for tests and x-rays. My mom was at work on the 5th floor, so I called her down to be with us. When the chest x-ray returned, we heard the words, “diaphragmatic hernia” and “life-flight to Primary Children’s.” I saw my mother’s face go white and her jaw drop. Suddenly, we realized with dreadful horror how severe the situation was. I began sobbing into my husband’s arm. When I pulled away and looked at him, I realized he, too, my non-emotional husband, had tears streaming down his face.

Within the hour, the helicopter from Primary Children’s Medical Center had arrived, and we were getting ready to drive up ourselves. By the time we arrived at the hospital, Connor had already been taken into surgery. We had to wait four long hours for the surgery to be complete.

When the surgeon entered the hospice room in which we had been resting, my weary body jumped up and my heavy eyes tried to focus on his words. He said that Connor’s diaphragm most likely had a weakness in utero, which after he was born became a hole in the right side of his diaphragm. His intestines, as well as part of his liver, had floated up into the hole, pushing aside the lungs and heart, making it difficult for him to breathe and digest properly. His liver was transverse, and the surgeon wondered if other organs might be flip-flopped. The surgeon explained how he brought down the intestines and liver and placed them back where they belong. He also took some muscle tissue and repaired the hole in his diaphragm. He also noticed Connor had an extra appendix, which he removed along with his regular appendix. The surgeon, like all the other doctors and nurses, was shocked to see a diaphragmatic hernia in a 3-week old infant. We were blessed that Connor came early and was able to expand his lungs before his hernia became a serious problem. Now, Connor faced the recovery process, which we were told could take anywhere from 1 week to 1 month at the hospital.

When we were finally allowed to see Connor, he no longer looked like the picture of a perfect healthy baby we had brought home from the hospital the first time. He had a tube up his nose that went into and emptied his stomach. He had a ventilator tube in his mouth and a chest tube near his surgical site, emptying it. He was bandaged and had a few IVs. He had monitors taped to his body to monitor his breathing, his oxygen intake, and his heart rate. Again, tears streamed down my face to see my angel in this life-threatening condition.

But through all these tears and whirling emotions, I felt an unexplainable peace. I knew my precious baby would recover. Now he is 9 months old and the cutest baby boy. The doctor believes Connor had some developmental problems in utero on the right side only, because he also has an undescended right testicle and a smaller right leg and foot, only noticeable if closely observed. But his smile lights up any room, and we’re so grateful to have him in our lives.


Written by Connor's mom, Christy Stevenson (Illinois)
2000