Avoidance of Words

I have struggled to write this post for a while now. I started it a million times only to rewrite it a million more, closing the post paragraph to avoid it. It is one thing to remember something in your head but I am finding it another to see it in words.Yet the words are helping me tell our story if not for the sake of Katie, but in hopes of building a supportive network for others across the world who are traveling similar paths.

We are one family, and know we are incredibly blessed to have a spirited child who survived being born 9 weeks early. But others do not have their sweet one to hold in their arms like we do. Some children and families are experiencing a whole array of hardships because their babe was born too early. Mothers just like me have done everything right in their pregnancy but still had to experience the pain of not going home from the hospital with their baby.

I can now say having a premature baby and almost losing my life was one of the best and at the same time the worst things to have ever happened to me. What a dichotomy and a genuine wake up call most people never experience in their life.

My father taught us it didn't matter how hard you fell, but how well you got up. And now I was being tested with how well I was going to listen to my father's words.

It was now early morning and I was wide awake. Angela, my angel nurse and I talked about our families, dreams, funny stories we remembered about our crazy Italian family and my fears. She held my hand, comforted me when I was overwhelmed from the day and educated me about what she saw on the monitors.

Kent left to go home to get sleep. He worked night shifts in Alaska and did not sleep much before he got the call to hurry home. We figured one of us needed rest in order to face the next day. We had no idea what it would bring but knew bed rest was part of the equation.

The hosptial was still, the night dark and I was alone with my thoughts. The sound of her heartbeat finally lulled me to sleep. I slept for a few hours and awoke with anxiousness to learn when I could go home. What transpired throughout the next few hours changed the course of my pregnancy, my heart and my life.

I wasn't prepared to have a premature baby and I certainly wasn't prepared to almost die.

Seven and A Half

Remember when I had said there were many things that went right during a time when many things went wrong? Just when I thought I was at the brink, exhausted, stressed and really wanting to start my day over, I recognized one of the nurses taking care of me was a family friend. Angela had switched her shift and came in for a co-worker. No accident. A friendly, comforting face when I really needed one, another angel.

Angela, the other nurses and doctor jumped right into gear. Instantly hooked up to monitors, I felt  relief when I heard my daughter's steady heartbeat. Oxygen and seeing my husband calmed my breathing. The doctor talked to us about our situations, the contractions and options. The contractions were a concern and based on the last few hours, we had no real prediction on what was going to happen. Our last resort to stop the contractions was a  magnesium sulfate drip. I really didn't want that option because the side affects are similar to a nasty hangover. I don't like a hangover on a good day and this certainly wasn't even close to one.

Once stabilized, I was transferred to a labor and delivery room with Angela right by my side. As a precaution they gave me a steroid shot to strengthen our daughter's lungs in case she arrived early. I am here to tell you, that shot hurt. And I needed another one in 24 hours. In my lack of knowledge, I didn't realize a mother gets a steriod shot if there is chance her child will arrive prematurely. A babies lungs are one of the last things to develop. Time in the womb is what a baby needs, there is a definite reason and process for why we carry a baby nine months. I was seven and a half months along.

I remember thinking all was ok. The contractions were going to stop, I was going to get some rest and I was sure I would be released home the next day, on bed rest for the rest of my pregnancy.

Uncertainty

The evening progressed with its up and downs. Plans came and went so often I stopped keeping track. Would I stay the night in the hospital here or an hour away in Seattle, would I be air-lifted to Seattle or  transported via ambulance, would I have this baby girl tonight? Lots of questions with no certain answers.

My father was with me by now and had received the very good news that my husband had managed to catch the last plane out of Anchorage. The final plan was I was going to stay the night in the hospital and my team would decide what to do in the morning. My dad and I were relieved because the thought of taking an hour car ride to Seattle where I lived, when we didn’t even know for sure if my bleeding had stopped or had just slowed down because I was lying down, was not something either of us wanted to find out. When the doctor came in and told me I was there for the night, for the first time in six hours, I sighed a breath of relief.

We seemed stable for the night and I convinced my father to go home. He refused but somehow I convinced him to go. I confidently told him not to worry, my husband was on his way, and I would not be alone if our circumstances changed in the middle of the night. No one knew what our daughter and my body were going to do. Even though I was still contracting, it seemed we were out of immediate danger. Just to be sure, I was given one more round of anti-contraction medicine and that kept the contractions at bay. Good thing this was my second child for I knew the signs of labor and what my body was cueing me during this journey. That seemed to be all I knew for sure.

Seinfeld Moment

I was given the maximum amount of anti-contraction medication but even so, I was still having consistent laboring. Plan B, C, D – were all discussed and finally, it was decided I should be airlifted to the hospital in Seattle but at the last minute the team decided I was not critical enough and I didn't get a ride. Not critical enough? My baby was probably coming 9 weeks early. To me, that was critical. I have never ridden in a helicopter and thought it might be an interesting way to take my first trip but then came back to reality and realized a medical evacuation is not a good thing.

I was fretting over not having any clothes to wear. I look back and think to myself, ”Where was I planning on going?” The medics had cut my clothes off and threw everything away, including my shoes. I lingered in a Seinfeld moment as I kept worrying about how I was going to get clothes in case they decided to send me home that night. I didn’t want to walk out of the hospital with a gown on that did not cover my pregnant body. I did had some dignity left!

It must have been clear to my obliging father that this was upsetting me because he made his way to Fred Meyer and bought me sweats and slippers. In the back of my mind, I knew I wasn't going anywhere but it was my way of coping. New sweats and slippers was my way of clinging to the hope that everything was fine, that I was fine, and that Katie was fine.

Angels

As I was rushed into the ambulance, the coolness of the rain hit my face and I saw they grayness of the sky. It had been a gorgeous fall day until the moment I was hauled into the ambulance. I had a huge urge to push and screamed, "She's coming." The paramedics calmly directed me not to push. A vaginal birth with placenta previa meant Katie and I would have both died. End of story. The paramedics were not going to let that happen. Here they were, another set of the many, many angels I would meet that day. Two years later, I wish I could personally thank those two heroes. They were seriously cute angels, who did help me take my mind off the grave situation, even if only for a few moments.

By the time I entered labor and delivery at the hospital, my physician's nurse had already faxed over my history and physical, so the team knew my story by the time I arrived. Nurses and doctors flew by my side as I was wheeled down the hallway, a circle of chaos. Collectively they uttured the words, "Whoa" when they saw how much blood I lost. It was overwhelming to see and know how much blood could come out of me. Blood that was neeeded for my daughter's growth and development. For her survival. How could my body have betrayed us both in that way?

My angel and co-worker, nurse Angie and another angel co-worker Trina, were right there by my side. They waited with me until my father arrived, trying to make me laugh and holding my hand as I cried. They were in constant contact with my husband, giving him updates and tracking whether or not he was able to get a flight home. I am forever grateful to them.

After a while the bleeding stopped. An ultrasound revealed the very good news that the placenta had not torn away from my uterus. Katie's heart rate was strong. I remember feeling such relief to see her and then a huge sense of sadness at the same time because she was so little and so young and already dealing with a trauma.