She met her husband at age eighteen, both of them freshmen at their local college. “Their love story was always a romantic comedy.” His car crashed into her car as he was leaving school. They traded names and insurance details, not realizing what they were supposed to do after their first car accident ever. They did not get their phone numbers. Later on, her best friend looked him up on Facebook and sent him a message, playfully telling him he owed her dinner and a movie. “She did not think it really happened until she received a text message an hour later asking her out.” Ten years of it, nearly eight of them married, full of love, struggles, and strength, had been theirs.
At age twenty-two, she became pregnant with her first child. Except for persistent morning sickness, this was a healthy pregnancy. Delivery lasted three days, and this started on Mother’s Day in May of that year. The epidural pain relief had little effect. After pushing for four hours with no delivery and indicators of distress, a C-section became necessary. The only important thing was ensuring the arrival of her daughter and her husband. At nine fifty-nine p.m. on May 14, they finally had a daughter.
Shortly after the birth, something went wrong. “She felt dizzy and faint and wouldn’t hold the baby. Nurses observed that she had an elevated pulse and decreasing blood pressure. They examined how well she was bleeding and panic set in. They saw that she was hemorrhaging. People came rushing into the room. Her bed was raised so that blood could continue flowing into her heart. Her husband was asked to call their mothers. Emergency blood was scarce in the small town’s hospital, and the situation became urgent. She was airlifted to another hospital by life flight as blood transfusions were administered along the way. Her baby could not accompany her. Hours after childbirth, she asked her husband to stay back with the baby as she is airlifted away to save her life.
She was in the ICU for a week and needed five blood transfusions. When her daughter was finally smuggled to her side three days later, it was the first time she got to hold her. At the six-week follow-up, she was informed by her doctor that her heart should have stopped that night.
Nine months passed, and they decided to try again. She became pregnant, but she miscarried at four weeks. This traumatic event crushed her, as she was overcome by guilt and confusion. After waiting, she medically miscarried before her twenty-fourth birthday. They mourned in silence, but they held on to the life they knew. Months later, she was pregnant again. But fear lurked behind her joy. Then came the ultrasound, and what she saw stunned her. Not one, but twins. And they were fraternal twins, a miracle she and Ryan never saw coming.
Pregnancy was uneventful, and at thirty-six weeks, two baby girls were born in a larger hospital. They didn’t require NIC care. Relief was short-lived. One of the twins, Payeton, had issues with jaundice and regulating her body temperatures. Numerous hospitalizations ensued. She was eventually transferred to a children’s hospital, where a serious grade four brain bleed, possibly from birth, was revealed. Surgery for her brain took place when Payeton was nine days old.
Six weeks passed at the NICU. Challenges from financial difficulties, physical exhaustion, and fear put their marriage to the test. But they learned to rely on each other, which they had never done before. Today, Payeton is thriving. She walks, runs, talks, and laughs, defying all the dark prognostications that threatened to shatter every expectation of what life would be like for this young woman. All three of her daughters are robust and vibrant. Though Payeton’s faith has been shaken to the core, it saw her through the dark times. If they decide not to have more babies, Payeton knows this: She is blessed—blessed with daughters, with husband, with a love that sustained her during a time of life in which everything else was a question.
