Let me preface this post with: I’m not a writer. Not only that, I am also not a social media person. My Facebook profile photo is over two years old and my last Instagram post is from April 2022 where my sister jokingly commented “I didn’t know this account was still active.” Despite these facts, I felt led to share this story. The story of my son, Matthew’s birth. And how it became God’s story. 

I have been blessed with three beautiful, now four children— the first three born via fairly uncomplicated c-sections. My first c-section with our oldest, Violet, was a shock— but what first birth, even if everything goes as planned isn’t? The recovery was hard, learning to breastfeed was hard, slight bouts of PPD were hard, but every day got better and we got through it together. I carried that promise— that every day gets better— for my second and third c-sections with Michael and Scarlett, and recovery from those surgeries felt like a breeze. Breastfeeding came easy. Heck, I was at the zoo two weeks post-partum with Michael in the middle of June! 

Matthew’s due date was December 21st, with a planned c-section for December 19th. I had no reason to assume anything but my previous experiences going into my fourth pregnancy. Early ultrasounds showed that I had a low lying placenta but nothing to be concerned about. Despite the assurances, one month prior to Matthew’s birth I would wake in the middle of the night, completely terrified of the upcoming procedure. Terrified of the surgery, terrified of the epidural, terrified something would go wrong that might take me away from my family. And so, I did the only thing that would bring me comfort. I prayed. 

• I prayed that God would protect me during surgery. I prayed that He would make me brave. 
• I prayed that God would give wisdom to my physicians and guide their hands.
• I prayed that He would put kind and compassionate nursing staff in our path during our hospital stay.
• Scheduled so close to Christmas, I prayed for the hospital staff that we would encounter— that their Christmas season would be filled with slowness and joy, not the hustle and bustle we tend to see this time of year. I prayed for their families that they would experience the true joy of Christmas, that they would delight in the time they get to spend together. 
• And I prayed that my son’s entire birth, from start to finish, would glorify God. 

Every time I woke up fearful, I would pray through that list, and fall back asleep in peace. 

While making dinner on November 24th I started to feel mild contractions. Matt took over on the home front while I laid down to rest. Within an hour, I thought I felt my water break but panic quickly set in as I realized it was blood. Matt and I rushed out of the house, leaving the kids with our neighbors as my parents were on their way. I was still losing blood upon admittance into OB triage and quickly prepped for surgery.

Matthew Aaron Palackdharry was born at 9:07 PM Sunday, November 24th, 2024, at 5lbs 3oz (36 weeks + 1 day). What should have been no more than a 30 minute procedure, turned in to me lying open, actively bleeding, on the table for 2 hours and 40 minutes. When I was finally closed up, I had lost around 4L of blood, and yet, I still continued to bleed. 

The next handful of hours in the recovery room are a blur. Any attempt to get my bleeding under control failed. My OB suspected that I was slipping into D.I.C., a condition where the body’s clotting factors have been depleted, therefore progressing into excessive bleeding. D.I.C. is the leading cause of maternal mortality worldwide with a mortality rate of around 50%. My OB started working on a plan to transfer me to UCHealth hospital, as my condition was beyond the scope of what they could handle at my current location. The initial plan was to airlift me to UCHealth, but due to weather conditions the helicopter was unable to make the flight and we were stuck waiting for an alternative. 

I didn’t get to meet my son until close to 6AM the following morning. Matthew had had a rough start into this world as well. He spent his first four hours hooked up to a cpap machine that was helping him breathe. When the nursing staff brought him in I cried holding him. So many mixed emotions — the joy of meeting him coupled with the pain of  not being able to take care of him, not being able to nurse him when he started to fuss. Matt later told me he had to advocate for that visit, fully understanding that might be the only time I would ever get with my son. 

The transport ambulance finally arrived at 9AM, a full 12 hours after my son was born. I had been losing blood for over 12 hours. The maternal fetal medicine team at UCHealth met us in the SICU and presented us with three options to resolve the bleeding—ranging from least invasive— a D&C to remove any clot burden— to most aggressive—opening me back up for a hysterectomy in the case of placenta accreta. By the grace of God, the bleeding began to resolve after the least invasive option. A handful of blood products later, my labs began to stabilize and I was moved down to the labor and delivery floor. A few days later, Matthew was discharged from the hospital where he was born and joined me at UCHealth. Twenty four hours later, on Thanksgiving day, we were both headed home. 

It has been four weeks since my son was born. I often reflect back on my time in the hospital and what got us through the darkest moments. The short answer is God. 

Months prior to Matthew’s birth, I started a Bible study with Violet and Michael focusing on the characteristics of God. It began as a fun way to start our morning— the kids would snack on dry cereal while coloring and adding stickers to their study booklets while I read a short prompt about who God is. Most days it was a joy to see their little minds absorb the material repeating characteristics such as good, able, and sovereign back to me. Some mornings it was a chore— trying to get 3 year old Michael to focus or getting up five times to refill a cereal bowl before even getting through the three sentence prompt. What I didn’t realize at the time was how much my own heart needed those reminders of who God is. During those hours waiting on the ambulance, the characteristics of God were on constant repeat in my head. 

• Good— God is a good, loving Father. His plan for my life is a good plan. In all things He works for the good of those who love Him (Romans 8:28).
• Able— God can do anything. (Ephesians 3:20-21)
• Sovereign— God is in control of everything— everything that happens to me passes through His loving hands first.
• Omniscient — God is all-knowing.
• Healer— God is the ultimate healer.

In those hours of waiting, I experienced a peace that I have never known before— a peace that surpassed all understanding. (Philippians 4:7). I had peace because my story was not a mystery to my good, loving, sovereign Father. What I was going through didn’t catch Him off guard— He knew this story long before the beginning of time. In fact, He allowed it to happen. And because I trusted in who He says he is, I knew everything would be okay. I was even at peace knowing that I may not survive this—that my earthly life might end here. Why? Because I had assurance in my salvation and the hope of the life after this. The eternal life promised to those who call Jesus King of their hearts— the eternal life where there is no more pain, no more tears, no more suffering— only beauty, joy, love. 

In those hours, I had a profound understanding of Jeremiah 29:11.

“For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”

God’s plan for my life didn’t necessarily mean that everything would be ideal by earthly standards. His plans to prosper didn’t mean an abundance of wealth and happiness. His plans for a future didn’t mean a future without trials— it didn’t even have to mean a future where I walked away from this with my life. What it meant was that His plans would refine my heart— His plans would take my heart and mold it to look more like His— more loving, kind, patient, faithful, gentle (Ezekiel 36:26). His plans for hope would mean my reliance on Him would deepen— that come what may, I would not have a spirit of fear, but one of sound mind because my hope was in Him. His plans for a future would mean my future with Him. How my life would change for the better knowing Him more, trusting Him more, walking with Him more. 

There are a handful of unanswered questions regarding Matthew’s birth. The reality is mistakes were made that led to me almost losing my life. But what I have come to realize is that for me, the answers to those questions do not matter. My God knew my story long before it ever happened.

I know what I went through serves a much bigger purpose and I have freedom in that. However, It’s not lost on me that many don’t walk out of a scenario like this unburdened. It’s not lost on me that so many women that have birth trauma are haunted by their experiences. It’s these women that need our understanding, compassion, and love. We need to be mindful of their precious hearts regardless of how much time has passed. And to those women, to those families, I pray one day you won’t be burdened by your trauma. I pray that your hearts will be healed and you’ll experience freedom. 

This story wouldn’t be complete without an expression of gratitude on my end. To my family, thank you for never leaving my side. Thank you for holding my hands, praying for me, and wiping my tears during the hard moments. Thank you for advocating for me when I couldn’t advocate for myself. Thank you for all the laughter and joy you brought to my hospital stay. Thank you to the family and friends, who loved on my children so well when they were scared.  

To my neighbors, thank you for dropping your lives at a moments notice to show up for my family at home and in the hospital. 

Thank you to all the hospital staff we encountered during our visit— to the physicians who confidently handled my case and stopped the bleeding— to the nursing staff who treated me with an abundance of kindness and compassion— to the nursery staff who loved on my son for days when I could not. Thank you to my OB who delivered my beautiful son safely and had the wisdom to know when to escalate things further. 

To our church family and those that surrounded us in prayer— thank you for showing up in the hundreds to boldly pray for my family and for my life. Thank you for the gifts and the month of meals you have provided us with— thank you for the outpouring of love that comes from those that love Christ. 

To the family and friends that have served my family during my post-partum recovery—thank you for helping while I get back on my feet. 

To my son, Matthew Aaron— thank you for your strength and your resiliency— thank you for loving me when I physically couldn’t be there for you. I can’t wait to see who you will become. 

To my husband, thank you for your steadiness and for your faith. Thank you for loving me as Christ loves the church. Thank you for walking this life with me. What a gift it is to be your wife. 

And thank you to my Heavenly Father. While I’m incredibly thankful for my life—I actually find myself more thankful for the entire experience. I’m thankful that I almost lost my life— because I have found hope, peace, and complete assurance of who He is on the other side (Romans 5:1-5, 1 Thessalonians 5:18).

As Christmas approaches, I pray that those of you that have made it this far are blessed by this story— blessed by who Christ truly is and the freedom He brings. I pray that you take the time this season to prepare your hearts for the true King who came to earth as a baby, born in a manger. Born to take away the sins of the world, born to set us free. 

Isaiah 9:6: For unto us a Child is born,

Unto us a Son is given;

And the government will be upon His shoulder.

And His name will be called

Wonderful, Counselor, Mighty God,

Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.