I remember when I was first pregnant; we were so excited and scared. Since I had miscarried before, we weren't going to tell anybody until I was through my first trimester. When I had my first doctor's appointment, she said she thought I was 10-12 weeks and scheduled me for a sonogram in 2 weeks. I was due on Christmas day. The day before my sonogram I told my mom, thinking I was near the end of my first trimester. At my sonogram the baby measured 8 weeks. My husband was so disappointed he was going to have to wait another month to meet our baby. Now due on Feb 2, 2006. But at that point the cat was out of the bag. I was counting the days until I was through my first trimester and things would be "safe".
It was on my way to my first sonogram when "morning-noon-and-night" sickness started. I had to pull over on the side of the road. Then all that water I had drank was gone. For the next two and a half months I was sick. If I ate too much or drank too much I was in the bathroom. Morning, noon and night. There weren't too many mornings where I didn't run to the bathroom right before leaving. I actually lost 15 pounds. I was so glad when that subsided.
I remember the exact moment when I realized I felt kicks. That night I told my husband, I think I felt the baby kicking. He said, "Are you sure it isn't gas?" All while trying to feel for himself. Two mornings later, he asked me if I was tapping him on the arm while I was sleeping that night. I said no and we laughed at the baby kicking his daddy all night.
Two weeks later we had the big sonogram. We already had names picked out. We had them picked out since before we got married. If it was a boy, we were going to name him Cooper Walker. Cooper after my husband's grandfather and Walker after the President. If it was a girl, we were going to name her Clara Lorraine, after both of our grandmothers. When the sonogram technician started pointing out what we were looking at on the screen, I could see my husband raising his arms in the air when boy came out of her mouth. We were both so excited. Every time I went out, I was looking at little boy outfits. I would come home with the cutest things. We started working on his nursery. We decorated it in planes since his great grandfather was a heavily medalled WWII pilot.
My doctor had her baby on Nov 10. So while she was out, I saw one of the midwives. She was concerned because I had gained 10 lbs in a month. I got to do the lovely creatine clearance. My level was 249. Not a big deal. Then I started getting a cold. I called and asked what I could take. She told me Sudafed, Benadryl or Claritin. Well, I was already taking Claritin and sick. Benadryl knocks me out cold. I went with Sudafed. The next day was my 33 week check-up and I saw my real doctor. My BP was 160/90. I went straight to the hospital for my first NST. Two hours later after the Sudafed wore off, my BP was normal. Another creatine clearance was scheduled. When I went back for my 34 week check-up, I had a sonogram done as well. The sonogram looked good. He was actually still for a change. Baby looks big, 5 ½ lbs. My BP was 140/90 and my levels came back at 321, mild preeclampsia. Back to the hospital for steroid shots, another NST and bedrest was scheduled.
This was four days before Christmas. I spent my time watching/sleeping through movies and feeling my baby play a game of soccer with my bladder. Tuesday, December 27 was no different than any other day. As I lay in bed trying to go to sleep, I thought at any moment a foot was going to come through my belly button. I was reading, holding the book in one hand and rubbing my belly with the other. I couldn't get to sleep. I moved to the couch to watch some TV, which always does the trick. At 3:30 the TV woke me up. I turned it off and went to bed. As I got into bed, I realized my stomach was hurting a little bit. I didn't know if it was me being paranoid, but it got my attention. I went to the bathroom, much to no avail and got a glass of water. As I lay there sipping my water and watching the clock, I am waiting for the pain to subside. This being my first child, I am thinking that a contraction has to subside at some point, right? At 4:00 the pain is getting worse. I started getting dressed and woke up my husband. "You need to take me to the hospital. I don't feel right." It was 4:45 by the time we got to the hospital and the nurses were hooking me up to the monitors. They put the Doppler on my stomach, silence. Moved it around, silence. Brought in another machine, silence. I knew this wasn't good. They started prepping me for an emergency c-section. I remember my husband calling my mom in the corner of the room. He had no idea what was going on, but I did.
The nurses literally ran me to the OR. Not a minute after I was on the operating table the doctor on call came in. She sat me up and told me they couldn't find a heartbeat. As I sat there stunned, she was rubbing my back. I wasn't really listening to her. Something about probably an umbilical accident and we will talk about options. They got me in a wheelchair and started to take me back to my room. I remember when they opened the door and rolled me in. My husband was standing there with the booties over his shoes, the yellow gown and everything. The look on his face was of pure confusion. The doctor walked over to him and told him that the baby was gone. He fell to his knees screaming, "Couldn't you just cut him out?" I will never forget. I sat there in the wheelchair crying, he was laying on the floor, with his head in the doctor's lap screaming.
As the nurse helped me back into bed, I could see the tears on her face. My husband climbed into the bed with me. He held me in his arms. We cried together and prayed together. When the sonogram technician got there, Tim got out of the bed. I was in so much pain. I told the doctor I wanted to get this over with. I remember the nurse giving me some dimerol for the pain. I barely remember when my real doctor got there. She was trying to talk to me, but everything was slurred. After that, most everything I know I was told.
I was dilated to a 3 or 4, so they started to induce. My doctor broke my water, nothing unusual. The anesthesiologist came in to do the epidural. He was mad, because I wasn't leaning over enough. I don't remember a bit of it. I am told a nurse was holding me up. About the time the epidural was done, my vitals started to plunge. I remember hearing my doctor slapping me on the legs and yelling at me to breathe. My doctor realized I was bleeding internally and they needed to get the baby out fast. I was rushed back to the OR for a c-section. The placenta had completely separated from my uterus.
Hours later, I was still having problems. I was rushed back into the operating room. I do remember my doctor telling me that they were going back in to check for more bleeding. They were unable to keep me stable. If my uterus was still bleeding and they were not able to stop it, they might have to do a hysterectomy. I remember saying whatever needs to be done. I didn't want to die at 23. The next thing I remember was waking up. The nurses were preparing me to take the tube out of my throat that had kept me breathing all night. It was 6:30 am on Thursday, December 29. When they let my husband come back to see me, I found out that I was in ICU. I had undergone two surgeries to save my life. Thank God, they did not have to take my uterus. I had to have 13 units of blood and countless units of platelets. I went into kidney failure as well. There was a tube in my nose to keep my stomach empty. There was a tube in central line (IV) in my neck.
I did get to see and hold my son that afternoon. He was beautiful, wrapped in a white blanket with a blue stocking cap on his head. He had huge hands and dark hair. The hospital did make a memory box. It had a couple of fuzzy polaroids, his footprints, a lock of hair and some poems. But we left with empty arms.
All together I spent 5 days in ICU and 4 more days in post-op. My doctor stayed next to my side for 18 hours that first day. It has been 7 weeks and I am still trying to heal. I have a hole where my incisions meet in my stomach that won't heal. Because they had to get back in fast and see where I was bleeding from, I also have an incision from my c-section to my belly button.
Three days after I got home from the hospital, we buried our son next to my dad. That was the hardest thing to do, letting go of all of our dreams and hopes for our son and family. We will never be exactly the same. Things like this change the person you are. I hope that soon our lives can be as normal as they can be.
