Thursday, November 17, 2011
I thought getting
pregnant was going to be a breeze. I started to get a bit concerned after
trying to conceive for a year and by the time our second wedding anniversary
rolled around I knew there was a problem. After undergoing fertility testing
my husband and I decided to do a few rounds of IUI. Our first round of IUI in February 2010
worked but unfortunately that pregnancy ended in miscarriage in late-March. In
June 2010 we did a second IUI treatment and were again successful. We held our breath until we passed the point
of our previous miscarriage, had a scary spotting episode in August and then
were thrilled by the CVS test findings of a genetically healthy pregnancy with
a baby boy. My due date was March 17, 2011.
But something didn’t
really feel right with the pregnancy. I had a rough first trimester and
then for some reason could not stop focusing on the 24-week mark – Viability
Day – once a pregnancy reaches the 24 week point there is a 60% the baby will
survive if born prematurely. Viability Day for me was Thanksgiving 2010 –
the same day I was diagnosed with mild preeclampsia and put on modified
bedrest. But my blood pressure continued to rise and within two weeks I
was hospitalized in the high-risk maternity unit – I was 25 weeks, 4 days when
I was admitted to the hospital. The goal
was to get me stabilized, get the steroid shots administered to help mature my
son’s lungs and then to hang on as long as my body could last.
I lasted a week. Around 3am on Tuesday, December 14th the
nurse entered my room to place the baby monitor back on my stomach. She
said they were monitoring my blood pressure and they just wanted to get a sense
of what the baby was doing. Earlier in the night my pressures had been
rising and they were chasing them with medications, trying to get them back
down. They’d given me medications through an IV and even an extra dose of
oral BP meds. Now the baby monitor was back.
Soon after the monitor
returned a phlebotomist was in my room drawing blood and then the doctor on
call stopped in to see me. This was not the normal nighttime routine. Somehow I
managed to fall back asleep after each visit. I think I just knew this was my
last good sleep for awhile.
By 8am the doctor was back
in my room, this time with a portable ultrasound machine – checking to see
where the baby was and if he was still breach. I told her that my husband
worked in Philadelphia and then I asked “Do I need to have him on a train back
to Wilmington?” She said that would be a good idea. I sent my
husband a text, asking him to call and he promptly returned to 30th Street and
got on the next train to Wilmington. My mom, who was staying with me at
the hospital, had awoken during this
part so I asked her to call my manager with an update on the situation. I
couldn’t speak to another person without crying. I was 26 weeks, 4 days
pregnant - a few days shy of the third trimester.
There was a flurry of
activity as they got the OR room scheduled and a neonatologist stopped by to
introduce herself. I was put back on the
mag and then we just waited.
Around 11:30 my husband
was given scrubs and told to get changed and the rest of my family was led to
the waiting room. My husband and I discussed baby names – and I pleaded
my case for Kevin (after my dad). Not really fair since how could he say
no to me given the situation. Lots of doctors and nurses seemed to be
dropping by to introduce themselves – saying they’d be in the room handling a
particular issue: surgery, anesthesia, the baby.
A little after 12 I was
wheeled into the hospital room and prep for surgery began with the anesthesia
team. Apparently I don’t respond well to anesthesia – or at least I don’t
respond quickly – so they had to tilt the table towards my head after I
realized I could feel them preparing the surgery site. And then it was
all over in a blur. If the circumstances had been different, I would have
been annoyed to have the screen up – I wanted to see the C-Section. My husband
was grateful for the screen – although he did peak over it once.
I felt a tug and then
whoosh. Kevin was out and with the NICU team. One of the first pictures I
have of Kevin is of his tiny body surrounded by eight hands (and there were
even more people moving in and out) taking turns administering to him.
We’d been told not to expect to hear him cry so we had our first glimmer
of hope when we heard a tiny, pathetic cry. We were told that he weighed
one pound, nine ounces, was 13.5 inches long and was doing well*. After
that, they intubated him and whisked him off to the NICU. I wouldn’t get
a chance to see him for more than 24 hours.
*We found out later than
doing well was a very relative term. It pretty much meant he was still
alive and hadn’t crashed on them yet. He waited until later that day to
crash the first time.
The biggest issue Kevin
faced in the NICU was his lung development.
He was on a Jet ventilator and then an Oscillator for the first three
weeks and then he remained on a conventional ventilator until the middle of
February. He didn’t get off oxygen
completely until a week before discharge – a total of 121 days on oxygen. While in the NICU he had a PDA ligation done
that required transport to and from another NICU. He also had ROP I that resolved completely by
discharge.
Kevin was finally
discharged in April 2011 - 128 days after his birth.
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