“You never know how strong you are, until being strong is your only choice.”
Bob Marley
Two years into their marriage, Jon and Megan received some wonderful news—they were pregnant with a little girl. In the midst of the planning and excitement, Jon was also fighting some chronic back pain. They sought answers, to no avail, until they eventually discovered his hip was the problem; so they scheduled an appointment in late January of 2015 for Jon to have surgery.
The timing was ideal, really. Jon could finally be free of pain, and he’d have plenty of time to heal before the baby would come. According to the schedule, he’d be off his crutches two weeks before the baby’s due date. Perfect.
Surgery day came and Jon had quite the operation—the doctors reshaped his hip socket and the top of his femur, drilled holes into the bone for new cartilage to grow, and sewed him back together. If ever anyone was “laid up,” it was Jon. Following his surgery, Megan did everything she could to help Jon recover; she got him settled on the couch, assisted with trips to the bathroom, and made sure he kept his leg moving in his CPM machine ten hours a day to prevent blood clots from forming.
Two weeks post-surgery, Megan had to pack her bags for the Reading Recovery Conference in Columbus. During the week leading up to the conference, she also began having a lot of back pain. She went to the doctor, just to make sure everything was okay with her pregnancy. The doctor ran a stress test and a fetal fibronectin, a test which checked for a specific hormone that would determine whether or not she was going into spontaneous labor. The doctor assured her he would call in the event of a positive test result, but otherwise, to assume it was negative. He cleared her to carry out her plans to attend the conference the following week, and early Sunday morning she joined a dozen other reading teachers on a journey to Columbus for the three-day event.
On the way there, they had to pull over so she could walk off her contractions. Wouldn’t it be funny if you had a baby at the reading recovery conference? the other teachers joked. Megan disregarded the contractions. The doctor said she’d be fine, and she never got a call about positive test results, so what was there to worry about?
They made it through the first day of the conference without a hitch. But then, Monday morning when Megan got up to shower, it happened: Her water broke. One of the other teachers drove her to the hospital, while Megan frantically called her doctor. The office wasn’t open yet, so while she waited to hear from her doctor, she killed time by standing in line at a food stand for an egg sandwich.
After the breakfast pitstop, they arrived at Riverside Methodist, a large hospital in Columbus that’s well-known for its labor and delivery floor, as showcased on TLC’s series Maternity Ward. She was in bed all week, resting and receiving steroid shots for her little girl’s lungs to develop. Jon joined her in the hospital and spent the week by her side; the nurses fetched an extra hospital bed for him to recline and use his CPM machine. They were soon recognized around the floor by others as the couple whose mothers pushed them around in their respective wheelchairs.
By Thursday, Jon was now several weeks post-op, he’d been missing work, and he had a promotion interview the next day. Since the week had been slow and nothing seemed to be progressing, she sent her husband home for his interview and assured him he could join her after work on Friday.
Megan woke up to go to the bathroom at 4:20am that cold, snowy February morning. Friday the 13th. She could tell her baby had moved some, and when she returned from the bathroom and began to climb back in bed, her water broke completely. She called in the nurse, who told her there’s no rush for Jon to get here. “There may not even be a baby today,” she assured her. Still, Megan thought it would be a good idea to keep her husband updated, so she called him to let him know what was going on.
They moved her down a floor to the labor and delivery unit, and in a matter of minutes, she’d dilated from 2 to 8 centimeters. Shortly after, she received an epidural, to try and help slow down the process.
It didn’t work.
The remainder of her labor lasted a mere thirty minutes. And before Megan knew it, there she was.
Emersyn Jane. 4 pounds, 6 ounces.
Even with Megan’s warning, there wasn’t enough time for Jon to get to the hospital in time for his daughter’s birth. But despite the single digit temps and the oncoming snowstorm, he eventually made it. The second he arrived, he sprinted as fast as he could hobble on his crutches to greet his wife. He kissed her forehead, made sure she was okay, then hurried off to the NICU unit to meet his brand new baby girl.
The next 21 days were spent in the NICU. While Jon had to get back to work, Megan shuffled between the Ronald McDonald house, hotel stays, and the hospital, spending as much time as possible with her little one. Friends and family poured on the love, sending texts, sharing hotel reward points, offering support. Megan would catch the hotel bus around 8 in the morning, head over to the hospital, and spend the day with Emersyn, then catch the bus back to the hotel around 9:30 at night. On the days when Jon was able to join her, they’d walk across the snowy parking lot to Bob Evans or share a hospital cafeteria date.
The experience was unlike anything she’d previously known. The NICU at Riverside was one big nursery, full of nearly 30 babies. Curtains divided the room into tiny sections, in which one or two guests could fit alongside the babies’ isolettes. Because of the room’s set-up, it was easy to see and hear what was going on with the other babies. As Megan faithfully sat alongside her little girl, she couldn’t help but notice how many babies had no one surrounding them. And at four pounds, Emersyn looked monstrous next to some of the smaller babies in the NICU; she couldn’t help but feel a little guilty for how blessed they were with a strong, healthy baby girl. She was so grateful for the NICU nurses, who provided helpful information, explained procedures, and taught Jon and Megan the best ways to handle their little one.
Finally, those 21 days were up, and the Weavers got to bring their sweet Emersyn home. By now it was early March, Jon was finally able to say goodbye to his crutches, and they were settling into a new routine in their own home.
When Emersyn was nine weeks old, Jon had a second hip surgery. Megan would get up in the middle of the night to tend to Emmie and give her vitamins, get Jon his fix of Percocet and Vicodin, make sure his leg was in his machine and give him ice. She felt a bit stretched thin, and her attention to Emmie made her feel like she wasn’t giving Jon all the care he needed. Looking back, it’s clear to her that she never would have survived without the support of friends and family. So many people brought meals and offered support and encouragement, which truly helped carry them through the season.
Emmie continued to grow healthy and strong, and just after her first birthday, Jon and Megan got a pleasant surprise—they were pregnant again. They looked forward to the arrival of another baby girl, and after their previous experience, decided to see a different doctor. Because of her pregnancy and early delivery with Emmie, Megan’s current pregnancy was considered high risk. The doctors seemed to think her previous early delivery was a fluke, and didn’t expect any problems to arise with her next baby, but they continued to keep an eye on her as the months went on.
From about 16 weeks on, Megan made a weekly trip to the doctor to get progesterone shots, an uncomfortable procedure that involved a needle being injected for a minute at a time. She dreaded these Wednesday appointments, but knew it was worth it to keep her little one healthy.
At 26 weeks, Megan started with contractions. She was in the middle of her volleyball team’s game at Ridgewood, when it hit. Her dad made his way over to her and offered her a bottle of Tums. “You look awful, are you okay?” She felt anything but okay, and continued keeping an eye on her symptoms and going to her regular appointments.
A couple weeks later, when she went for her weekly progesterone shot, the nurse couldn’t find her baby’s heartbeat. This far along in the pregnancy, it was typically easy to find. The nurse continued to examine her and discovered she’d been contracting for the past eight minutes, and Megan had no idea. She felt a bit tight, but that was typical. Her tests came back fine and she was cleared to go, so she joined her team for their next game at Garaway.
That Saturday—September 24th—was homecoming, so the team had practice early in the morning. She wasn’t feeling great, so she settled in on a rolling chair and took it easy while the girls practiced. She figured she should probably go to the hospital, but then recalled the slow process with Emmie the first time around. She’d probably just have to lay in bed for awhile, and surely they’d try to keep the baby in as long as they could. She had just reached 29 weeks the day before and was determined not to have the baby right now.
Later that day she joined her family at the homecoming soccer game, and didn’t mention anything as she silently timed her contractions, keeping track in her head as they came and went. They were three minutes apart, but they didn’t hurt, so she figured there’s no way she could be in labor. She envisioned enjoying the rest of the game, eventually dropping Emmie off with family for the night, and then casually heading into the hospital later. She had no desire to go lay in a hospital bed for weeks until the baby was ready to come.
However, by midafternoon, her plans changed, and things became urgent. She needed a hospital, now.
But not without first packing up her folding chair and properly putting it away.
Jon hurried her and urged her to get in the car; they left Emmie with her mom, ran home to pack a bag—in which Megan included six pairs of sweats, a sweatshirt, and one tube of toothpaste, but no toothbrush—and they were off to the hospital.
After having to stop for a herd of cows to cross the road in true Amish Country fashion, Jon put the pedal to the floor and they made it to Wooster Hospital in record time. She explained to the staff that she’s 29 weeks pregnant, her contractions are every two minutes, she’s in a lot of pain, and she is going to have this baby. They took her back right away, and asked a variety of questions. “Have you ever had a labor lasting less than forty minutes?” Surely not, rang the tone of the nurse’s voice.
“YES. 18 months ago.”
The nurse hurried away and returned with another nurse and a variety of needles, which they quickly stuck into Megan.
Megan began to recognize a very familiar feeling, and warned the nurses. “I’m ready to push.”
She was told she’d be transferred to Aultman, because Wooster doesn’t deliver babies younger than 34 weeks.
“I’m not going to make it.”
The nurses were adamant, convinced she was fine; after all, she was only at two centimeters and likely had plenty of time to get to Aultman.
Then Megan passed out, and time stopped.
The doctor had just entered the room. Her blood pressure bottomed out, which caused the baby’s levels to drop. The doors opened, someone called for anesthesia, and everyone around her was yelling and screaming and moving. The baby was in distress. Megan was unconscious. And Jon was kicked out of the room. It was like something straight out of a movie scene.
An emergency C-section was in progress. There wasn’t much room with everything going on, so Jon had to watch the delivery through a small window. He watched as the doctor pulled out his new daughter and tried to resuscitate her.
Braelyn Grace. 2 pounds, 10 ounces.
The nurses left her in the room until Megan awoke from the anesthesia and then wheeled her isolette over to Megan’s bedside. Her face was mostly hidden by her CPAP, and her tiny body was wrapped in a plastic bread bag to contain her heat. She was so small. Her ears were still fused to her head, and Megan couldn’t touch her yet, but there she was. A living miracle.
She got to spend those first few moments with her precious girl, but then Braelyn was whisked away and transferred to Akron Children’s with Jon. She spent the night at Wooster by herself, and couldn’t sleep.
Once she was conscious enough, the nurses explained the weight of the previous events. She’d had a placental abruption, in which the placenta tore away from the uterine wall, which caused her intense pain and the need to push. She began bleeding out, straight into her abdomen, which resulted in her passing out and Braelyn not receiving oxygen.
It was a matter of minutes, the nurses told her.
“I don’t know who got you here,” they said. “Someone up above must be looking out for you, because it doesn’t usually end this way.”
It took a long time to sink in, that reality. It was more serious than she’d ever realized. Braelyn was breathing alright, her organs were okay, and her daughter was in good hands.
Megan was dismissed after only 24 hours and was eager to meet her husband and daughter at Akron Children’s. It was a rough transition, and she was still recovering from a lot of blood loss. But she was willing to do anything to be with her baby girl.
Jon and Megan’s second NICU stay lasted 56 days, but it felt like a thousand. It was a heavy season, and Megan was quickly exhausted with the stresses and sorrows of the NICU. She kept a log throughout her stay, of both the highs (Braelyn drank her first bottle!) and lows (I told the doctor I’d punch him in the face).
The day Braelyn drank that first ounce of milk was a turning point. It was a small step, yes, but it was a step closer to going home.
But the journey was still long. It was frustrating knowing all the time and money they’d spent to find answers, to prevent another early delivery. All those tests and progesterone shots never even helped. If only she had answers, if she knew what was wrong, if there was an official condition to attach to her situation, she could be more at peace. But every test came back normal, with no answers, and it was hard to accept. Those familiar feelings of guilt resurfaced. They’d see children celebrating their first birthdays in the NICU. Some babies never had visitors. She felt she had no right to complain about their mere 56 days.
On November 18th, after nearly two months, Jon and Megan once again left the NICU to take their little girl home. Despite returning to the comforts of their own home, there was still a long road ahead. Braelyn still had apnea prematurity, so she would randomly forget to breathe. She came home with a monitor that would alert Jon and Megan if she stopped breathing for 20 seconds or more; it would frequently go off for the next couple months but gradually slowed. Megan would supplement her bottles with an expensive caffeine extract, which reminded Braelyn’s heart to beat. A week before Megan had to return to work, Braelyn was cleared from the monitor. As her transition back to work began, she had the peace of knowing her little ones were with their two grandmas. It was not an easy road to get here, but she realized it worked out the best possible way it could have.
During their second NICU stay with Braelyn, Megan would occasionally pass time by finding some scrap paper to doodle on. She began to look up some hand-lettering ideas on Pinterest, and found her own unique style. Lettering, for her, quickly became a helpful outlet. On the days where she found herself alone in the dark room without any music or TV or distractions, she’d turn to lettering as a release to keep her busy.
This NICU pastime has now evolved into a growing hobby and side-gig Etsy shop, known as Letters and Littles. But it’s become more than just a hobby; it will forever mark her journey alongside her daughters through the rough waters of the long days in the NICU. It’s now something Megan views as a tool to engage with others and be a part of something bigger than herself. She loves hearing the stories behind the prints and pieces she makes for people—gaining a deeper meaning in the words she creates and the mementos her pieces become. It’s a reminder for herself of all the good that’s come from the difficult, darker chapter she had to endure.
The experience with her girls has brought her to a new appreciation for the generosity of others. It takes a lot of humility to accept help from others, but letting people in to give a helping hand has helped her grow in her desire to pass that generosity on to others, especially those facing similar circumstances.
Back in the NICU, there were random individuals who would bring small gifts, tokens of encouragement, to the NICU families—Thirty-One Bag lunch boxes, books, snacks or kombucha—the little things that, to Megan, were really the biggest things. These little acts of kindness inspire her to want to pass it on, to send lettered prints with fun baby quotes to encourage the families who are still in that dark waiting period. It’s the small things that feel like the big things, sometimes.
In three short years, the Weavers endured two surgeries and gained two little babies. By just looking at their sweet little family, it’d be hard to guess the journey they’ve traveled to get where they are today. Through the highs and lows and everything in between, the Weavers are grateful for the experiences, the support of family, friends, and strangers, and, most importantly, the gift of life for their two healthy girls. At four and two-and-a-half, Emmie and Braelyn are your typical sisters—they love each other, they fight, they play together, and they know how to be ornery. Their family is a bundle of joy; they tell a story of miracles and strength that will truly live on forever.
True North Moments 