Showing posts with label magnesium. Show all posts
Showing posts with label magnesium. Show all posts
Saturday, May 4, 2013
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| Meet Cora, born weighing 2 lbs, 7 oz |
My story begins on April 25, 2012. I was 30 weeks pregnant and going to a regular doctors appointment, I had just switched over to going twice a month. Aside from my feet being a little swollen and my fingers being numb, I was feeling pretty good and was excited about signing up for a few classes (childbirth, breastfeeding) to take in the next couple of weeks.
My husband was working and this was going to be my first time going to an appointment without him, but he got off early at the last minute. Everything was going fine until the nurse took my blood pressure. It was 148/80. My blood pressure had been perfect my whole pregnancy, and was actually usually low. They tried my other arm and it was still high, so she left to go get the doctor.
My doctor comes in and starts asking if I've had any headaches and says he wants me to go over to the hospital for some monitoring and blood work. Then the nurse comes back and says there was +4 protein in my urine and the doctor warns me that I may be spending a few days in the hospital.
I've never been in a hospital so this kind of scared me, and I was worried about my job and my dogs at home, so I'm sure I wasn't helping my blood pressure. When we arrived and they tested it again it was something crazy like 180/110. I started trying to relax but it only went down to around 160/100 and it stayed there for a few hours.
While still in the triage area, they did an ultrasound. I noticed when they would measure the length of the baby's bones and size, it would list it as weeks... And everything kept coming up as 27 weeks. The nurse said everything looked good, but then looked at my chart and asked how far along I was. When I said 30 weeks she said the baby was small and that she needed to get a clear picture of the umbilical cord. I had no idea what any of this meant but this was when we finally called my family and my job to let them know something was going on.
After the ultrasound I had an IV placed in my arm and they started me on magnesium sulfate. I was finally put into a room and started a 24 hour urine collection. My mom had just arrived with some of my stuff when the doctor came in and dropped the bombshell.
He said that he would have to see my blood and urine work first but that he could pretty much guarantee I had severe preeclampsia. The umbilical cord had been affected and the baby was IUGR. I would not be leaving the hospital until she was born, and they wanted me to make it to 32 weeks.
I was completely stunned by this. I think mostly because I still felt perfectly fine. The magnesium started kicking in at this point, and that stuff is awful. I spent the next week on it, feeling like I was burning from the inside out. I couldn't really concentrate on anything, even when people came to visit I couldn't completely follow a conversation. All of my test results came back and sure enough I had preeclampsia. A nurse from the NICU came to talk about what I could expect. As everyone reading this has probably heard, she told me girls do better. She also told me that preeclampsia babies also usually do better. I thought that was really interesting, she said that it was almost like your body knew something was wrong in the beginning and it helped develop the baby faster. She explained that the baby would likely need some kind of breathing assistance and would be in the NICU until around her due date.
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| Hanging out in NICU |
Every morning I would have an ultrasound. They looked at the poor blood flow in the cord, they measured the baby's movements, and they watched for her to practice breathing. I received both steroid shots. The baby was moving less and less, but a couple days after being there they did see her "breathing" in the amniotic fluid.
Instead of making it to 32 weeks I made it five days. On Sunday night I started having a weird pain in my side/stomach. Then I woke up in the middle of the night with the worst headache I have ever had. When the nurse came in for my nightly 3:00 am blood draw, I told her about the pain and she brought me some medicine. I lay there for hours feeling so sick, I could tell something was going wrong.
Around 7:00 my new nurse poked her head in and told me not to order breakfast or eat anything. That's all she said, but I knew. I called my husband and my family and told them it was c-section time. The nurses came in and said that my bloodwork had shown that I was developing HELLP syndrome, and at that point the baby has to be delivered.
My husband got there just in time and they started the c-section. The epidural did not feel at all like I expected. The feeling of them digging around for the baby felt a lot worse than I expected, but maybe that's just because I was imagining it and it creeped me out!
Then at 9:09 am on April 30, 2012 I heard the squeakiest little cry ever. My so far unnamed daughter was 2 lbs 7 oz and 15 inches long. My husband went to be with her and told me that she looked tiny but good. On their way out they let me give her a kiss and all I saw was this teeny little wrinkled gray face. I was brought into recovery and my husband came to update me and he had a picture! She was on CPAP for just 30 minutes or so before being switched to a nasal cannula. She was absolutely the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen, and I spent the hours in recovery staring at her picture on my husband's phone.
Before taking me to my new room we made a stop in the NICU so I could see her, and it shocked me. When wheeling my bed up to her isolette I seriously thought they had the wrong baby. There is no way to even imagine seeing a baby that small in person, only people who have been in the crazy world of the NICU can get it. The nurses assured me that she was doing great, but this is when the guilty feeling started creeping in. One I'd feel again and again with every heel prick and IV insertion and NG tube placement.
The next morning they had me up and walking and I was able to go down and hold her for the first time. The next day she was able to come off the cannula, and I got to do kangaroo care with her, which was wonderful. She started having some digestion issues and it took a while to get her past taking more than 3 cc's of breast milk every three hours. Before every feeding, the nurse would suck out contents of her stomach and the milk would still be there. They said it was probably an effect of the magnesium I was on, and after a few days she finally stared digesting better. It took her about two weeks to get back to her birth weight and around the same time they were able to take out her PICC line they'd put in after she constantly yanked IV's out of her arms, feet, and even the top of her head!
Finally when she was two days old we named her. We went in to the hospital having no name ideas that we both liked at all, and then one night heard the name Cora on the TV. I mentioned I liked it and was shocked when my husband did too! I felt like it was too rushed so I wouldn't completely commit to it. But after a few days she definitely seemed like a Cora and so she finally had a name!
Because of the HELLP it took awhile for my platelet levels to return to normal. I had been in the hospital for about a week now and instead of feeling desperate to leave, I started to dread it. When I was discharged a few days later, it was one of the saddest days of my life. They wheeled me down to the curb to wait for my husband and the car and I tried not to look at the women in the wheelchairs beside me, holding their babies. I held a container of breast milk and this little blanket I was carrying around to leave with Cora with my scent on it. My husband picked me and all of my stuff up, we re-parked, and went back up to the NICU for awhile. Finally leaving was devastating.
But soon we got into a routine. Cora slowly gained weight and after a few weeks we started breastfeeding. She did great at it right from the beginning. They would weigh her before and after and once she got the hang of it she'd consistently take in way more cc's than she was taking by bottle. Around 4 weeks old they tried out an open air crib but she only made it about two hours before she was too cold. I went in a week later, excited to try again, and found everything in her room covered. There was a caution sign that said that a gown and gloves must be worn before entering. A nurse came running over and explained that Cora had tested positive for MRSA. The only thing I knew about MRSA was that it was hard to treat and that people died from it.
The nurse quickly made sure I knew that this was really no big deal. She didn't "have" MRSA, her nose was colonized with it. It's very common in a hospital and she probably got it from one of the nurses or doctors. I could still breast feed and hold her skin to skin, but I'd have to wear gloves. If it wasn't hard enough changing her little diapers sideways through portholes avoiding wires with numb fingertips (from pregnancy caused carpal tunnel), adding gloves just made it that more fun! The nurse also gave me the good news that she was going to go ahead and remove the NG tube because of how good Cora had been with eating, and literally as she was saying this Cora yanked out her own tube (for the millionth time)!
That night we tried the open crib again and it worked. I went in the following morning as Cora's doctor was looking at her and heard the magic words, "Go ahead and bring the carseat in..." She passed her carseat test within the next few days and on June 11th I got a call in the morning saying she was ready to go! She was exactly six weeks old.
The car ride to get her was so exciting, but it took hours to get her out. There was multiple papers to sign and we set up follow up appointments for eye exams and Synagis. Then the nurse just kind of said, "Okay, you can go ahead and take her leads off..." We peeled them off, and out we walked.
I am writing this on April 25th, 2013. Exactly a year after that fateful doctor appointment. Cora is a few days away from being one, and doing great. Aside from being small for her actual age, she has no side effects from being born nine weeks early. I, on the other hand, have never felt the same. I feel like I came out of the hospital a different person, but not necessarily in a bad way. Cora is the best thing that ever happened to me and I wouldn't change anything about her story even if I could!
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| Cora, one year. |
Monday, April 29, 2013
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| Breanna holding William for the first time. |
My birth story starts almost exactly 3 years ago. Yesterday was the third anniversary of my son's death. I had a pretty typical twin pregnancy until my water broke at just 22 weeks. That night I was taken to the hospital and told I would not leave until my babies were born and they would try to hold that off as long as possible. I was told to even have a small chance we would need to make it to 23 weeks and 24-25 weeks to have a decent chance. Even if I did make it that far it didn't look good for my son William, his amniotic sac was the one that had broken and there was not much fluid left to help mature his lungs.
The next few days I just waited and talked to the never ending train of doctors that came in to talk to me about what my babies future could hold and honestly I don't remember any of it. The waiting continued until around 1AM on day 5, something didn't feel right. They discovered that I was ready to deliver my son William and I was rushed to labor and delivery. Just before 2AM my son William was born weighing 535g (1lb 3oz) at 22 weeks and 5 days gestation (barely). As soon as he was born he was rushed off to the NICU while the medical staff turned their attention to trying to stop my labor.
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| William, born at 22 weeks and 5 days |
The magnesium did it's job and I was turned on my side and tipped head down and the waiting started again. They also started the series of steroid shots to give John any chance they could. I spent the next 39 hours waiting and being very closely monitored while my husband brought me back pictures of my son William with news that he was very critical but stable!
The next evening the medical team decided that John needed to be delivered, he was slipping lower into the birth canal and there wasn't much else they could do. John came into the world at 5PM, 39 hours after his brother, also weighing 535g. He was also rushed off to the NICU.
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| John, born 39 hours after William now watches over his brother. |
This changed when John was 5 days old, we received a phone call early that morning that John was not doing well. When we made it to the hospital he was barely hanging on and there was nothing they could do. He had pneumonia with a very aggressive bacteria and by the time they realized something was wrong it was too late. That morning John passed away and has been watching over his older brother William every day since then.
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| William on his way home! |
Slowly but surely William started to grow and after a long 6 month NICU stay he came home! William is still on a feeding tube, has limited vision, and mild CP. He does not let this slow him down! William's entire NICU story as well as current updates can be found at www.maravytwinwatch.com.
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| Here's William now! |
Saturday, March 30, 2013
“Either I’m pregnant or my period is coming early.” Read the
text I sent to my mother and boyfriend during my great grandmother’s repast. I
had been overly emotion since her death one week prior and couldn’t even sit
through the funeral. After eating, Tyrone, my cousin Lisa, and I made a trip to
Target where I looked at different pregnancy test. “Really Cheylah?” Lisa
questioned because I already had a 14 month old baby boy at home. “Really” I
respond as I continue searching until I find a double pack First Response
Pregnancy Kit. “I’ll take it tomorrow”. Tomorrow happened to be Father’s Day,
June 17, 2012. I woke up and grabbed the test. The two pack came with a digital
and a regular test. Tyrone said, “Take the digital” I thought to myself “Why?
It’s going to be negative”. I grabbed the regular test and peed in a cup,
dipped, wiped, looked. Positive. “Oh my God!” I ran into the room and grabbed
the digital and ran back to the bathroom to dip it. I came back into the room
pacing back in forth. “What’s wrong? Cheylah, what’s wrong?” Tyrone kept asking
over and over as I watched the hour glass dance on the small window. Finally
the word “Yes” popped up. I tossed the test to Tyrone, “Happy Father’s Day
Daddy!” This was the start of a wild ride.
I made my first appointment as soon as I could. They did the normal blood and urine and showed I was pregnant but the ultrasound showed nothing. “Maybe the baby is ectopic? Maybe you are having a miscarriage. You have to come back in 48 hours to do betas and a repeat ultrasound” said the nurses and doctors. I came every two days for weeks. Only answer I got to give me hope was that my uterus was thickening which happens with pregnancy. Finally in early July I saw the little piece of rice! Finally my baby decided to show itself. I was so happy and scared at the same time. I was working in pharmacy, going to school, and taking care of my oldest Trenton at the time. I was terrified of having two children under two years old but oh so happy my baby growing inside of me was ok. A couple of weeks later I noticed bleeding. I tried not to worry because I bled in my previous pregnancy and knew it could be normal. I started to worry when the blood got bright red and heavier. I feared I’d lost the baby. I went to the midwives office and found out I had a sub chronic hematoma. I was told it could subside on it’s on or I would lose my baby. “Sometimes things like this happen Ms. Branch. Sometimes babies go away and come back to you when the time is right.” I can’t even count the number of times I heard that line from one of the midwives. I heard it so much I wanted to throat punch her. From then on, I was told to only come in if I soaked a pad within an hour. Bleeding would be my new norm.
I made my first appointment as soon as I could. They did the normal blood and urine and showed I was pregnant but the ultrasound showed nothing. “Maybe the baby is ectopic? Maybe you are having a miscarriage. You have to come back in 48 hours to do betas and a repeat ultrasound” said the nurses and doctors. I came every two days for weeks. Only answer I got to give me hope was that my uterus was thickening which happens with pregnancy. Finally in early July I saw the little piece of rice! Finally my baby decided to show itself. I was so happy and scared at the same time. I was working in pharmacy, going to school, and taking care of my oldest Trenton at the time. I was terrified of having two children under two years old but oh so happy my baby growing inside of me was ok. A couple of weeks later I noticed bleeding. I tried not to worry because I bled in my previous pregnancy and knew it could be normal. I started to worry when the blood got bright red and heavier. I feared I’d lost the baby. I went to the midwives office and found out I had a sub chronic hematoma. I was told it could subside on it’s on or I would lose my baby. “Sometimes things like this happen Ms. Branch. Sometimes babies go away and come back to you when the time is right.” I can’t even count the number of times I heard that line from one of the midwives. I heard it so much I wanted to throat punch her. From then on, I was told to only come in if I soaked a pad within an hour. Bleeding would be my new norm.
All was going as well as could be until one night a work. I
felt a gush and thought “Ew, maybe too much discharge.” I went to the bathroom
only to see blood everywhere. I came out and told my manager I had to go to the
emergency room NOW. I left work in a panic. I
lost the baby. I know it, it’s too much blood. I sobbed as I took the bus
ride to the hospital as I called my mother and boyfriend to tell them the news.
My mother tried to keep me calm and my boyfriend said he was on his way. Once
in the ER I waited and waited. I wasn’t seen for 3 hours. I’m miscarrying and they won’t see me. This isn’t right. Once in
the back a number of familiar tests were done; blood work, ultrasounds, urine
test. Everything came back normal. Baby bean was fine. The rest of the hematoma
had finally emptied. I was so relived! Now
I can have a regular pregnancy! I thought.
I was having lots of nausea this time around, sensitivity to
sex, anything you can think of. I was sure this baby was a girl. I went for my
anatomy scan in September. Tyrone was running late. We were both convinced this
baby was a girl. We went on with the anatomy scan without him. “So, you have a
boy at home?” asked the ultrasound tech. “Yep, Trenton” “So you want a little
girl?” “I’d like one but I will be grateful for whatever God blesses me with” As I watch my baby spread its legs I see a
penis, another boy! “Well Ms. Branch, you’re having another boy!” “I see!”
I decided to name him Cameron Jacob, CJ for short. Everything looked fine
during the ultrasound. We confirmed I had an anterior placenta, which is why I
barely felt him move. We found out he was breeched as well. I was due to come
back for a follow-up October 30 to get better images of his heart and to see if
he flipped head down. I was ecstatic! When I went back to school and work I had
plenty of sonograms to show off. I was starting to feel him more as I would sit
in class. Things were going great. One week I got so upset (school related) I
started getting bad contractions. I was only 22 weeks. I called the midwife
line and they told me to calm down and drink water. I noticed I had started to
bleed again too. I was told to come in. One of the midwives checked me and said
I had a friable cervix. Drink plenty of fluid and rest when I can. The week of
my follow-up ultrasound came up but Hurricane Sandy had been in the area. The
ultrasound center called to cancel my appointment. I was so sad. “Mom, I really
needed this appointment. Something doesn’t feel right” “Cheylah, call them to
see when you can come in”
I’d been feeling CJ kicking really low since the day I had
contractions. I thought it was all in my mind. I finally called and the
receptionist told me if I could get there within the hour I could be seen. I
told her I could do her one better and be there in 15 minutes. I live a 10 minute
walk away from the hospital. I left the house in pajamas and walked thinking of
all the things that could happen. I never imagine what WOULD happen. I went into my appointment so optimistic. So
excited to see my baby boy again. The ultrasound tech began the ultrasound.
Quiet. She’d asked me if I had experienced any cramping or contractions I told
her very few but I drank water and they stopped. “I need to switch to vaginal,
the baby’s foot is blocking the view of your cervix”. Okay. “Doctor you need to
come to room 3!” “What’s happening? What’s wrong with my baby?” I questioned.
“You have to wait for the doctor.” The doctor came in and looked herself. “Ms.
Branch I need to speak with you in my office, your cervix is shortening.” They
both finish up and leave. Leave me there with my thoughts. What’s wrong? What does this mean? Is CJ going to be ok? Will I have to
go on bed rest? My thoughts are interrupted by the tech telling me the
doctor was ready for me. Everything after this happened so fast.
The doctor told me in so many words that in some images my
cervix was 0.8cm. In other images after that it had disappeared. Also, baby
still had not flipped and his cord was under him. I needed to go upstairs to
labor and delivery. I was going to be having my baby that night and he will
most likely not survive. I was only 23 weeks along. I sobbed. God please don’t. I need him to survive. I
need him to be ok. I called my mother and told her I was going to labor and
delivery and what had been said to me. She said a prayer. I called my boyfriend
and he said he was on the way. Once in labor and delivery an IV was started
(after 5 attempts) and several nurses, midwives, doctors, and neonatologist
were in and out of my room. Since CJ was still breeched I was forced to make a
decision. They wanted to know how I would want to deliver. If I delivered
vaginally his head would get stuck, causing brain damage and death. If I had a
cesarean I would hinder all future pregnancies because I would need a
traditional cut. He could also still die and I would have had the surgery for
“nothing”. Tyrone and I just looked at each other. He cried and told me to just
have him vaginally. We would hold him until we felt ready to give him up. He
said he didn’t want his son to suffer and didn’t want me to either. A
neonatologist, Dr. Cherian, came in and told me if the baby came now, at 23
weeks, he most likely wouldn’t survive. If he did he would be blind, deaf, or
mentally retarded. I had the choice of letting him come, going on bed rest in
the hospital, or aborting him. After lots of tears and speaking to lots of
people, a neonatologist by the name of Dr. Kierbak ultimately helped me to make
the decision to go on hospital bed rest. He gave me hope that it was a little
but good enough chance he could survive. I wanted to take the chance and do
whatever I needed to in order to give him a good chance of life. I just had one
request: If anytime he didn’t thrive let me know. I wanted to let him go. I
didn’t want him to have a life of suffering for my selfishness.
Once I was stable and I decided to have a cesarean, I was
moved over to the antepartum unit. My new “studio apartment” (as I liked to
call it) was cool. I was on bed rest with bathroom privileges. I sent my
boyfriend home to retrieve some items for me especially my laptop. I continued
to let people know what was happening. I let my baby birth board’s group from
my oldest son know what was happening and the prayer chain started. Once I had
my laptop those ladies helped my sanity. I had twice a week BPPs to monitor the
baby and make sure my fluid was good. During the 24th week we
noticed my bag of water was starting to bulge. We were officially on baby
watch. If I felt my water break I was to call my nurse to have a fist inserted
to prevent cord prolapse until we were in the OR. Regardless of what happened
it was determined I would have an emergency c-section and would be put under.
On November 11, the nurse came in to do CJ’s nightly monitoring. The nurse who
always found him wasn’t on that night. (She always said he was the size of a 28
weeker and would ask if I was sure of my dates. Always said he would be 2 lbs.
The little stinker would always give nurses trouble but not her). While on the
monitor I felt contractions. The nurse would come in and tell me I’d have to
stay on longer than the 15 minutes because he moved and I was contracting.
Finally, a doctor came in and did a pelvic exam. She saw my water bulging with
his foot on top of it. “Take her to labor and delivery.”
I prayed so hard he would stay in and the contractions would
stop. When I got over to L&D the nurse, Angela, was waiting. She was so
nice! She started me on magnesium (aka devil drug) and kept me company. Once on
magnesium I wasn’t allowed to get up anymore or eat. Bed rest was starting to
get to me. Because it was cold and flu season I had only seen Trenton once. I
didn’t have a lot of people see me but when I had company I was so grateful. I
was lonely. Lonely, hungry, tired, and wanting it to be over. I felt so guilty.
I wanted my baby to stay in and bake but I wanted the hell I was going through
to end. On November 15th, the magnesium was turned off. I was able
to eat and go to the restroom. I was so happy! Angela had come with her
roommate Laura (another nurse) and planned to give me a “spa night”. All was
well until I went to the bathroom and saw blood. “ANGELA!” I screamed. “Ms.
Branch you may be dilating more. It’s ok” I went to the bathroom again and saw
more blood, and then she called the doctor. My team came in and did an
ultrasound. CJ had his foot in the birth canal.
The doctors were hoping he would retract his foot by morning but until
then I was back on strict bed rest and had to start magnesium again. I cried.
Angela was so sweet and kind to me. She started a new IV for me (IV phobia
here) and stayed through the bolus. She told me she was going on break. I asked
her if the baby came would she be there. She promised she would. I had to go to
the bathroom again so the nurses covering for Angela asked did I want the pan
or another cath. I chose cath. As soon as she finished inserting it I felt a
gush. “I think my water broke!” *gush and contraction* “My water!!” The nurse checked me and
there wasn’t any water. I was bleeding. She called the doctors and my team came
in. I kept feeling gushes of fluid and contractions. Since CJ was so low the
contractions didn’t pick up. One doctor came in and put her hand in me to keep
the cord from coming. “She’s at a 10 but her water is still intact.” My midwife
Ebony came in and told me it was time to go. It was 1 am on November 16th.
Everything went crazy. One nurse gave me my phone to call my mom and boyfriend
but no one could come. Mom had Trent and my boyfriend had no way to the
hospital. I was rolled back to the OR. I kept asking for Angela and she finally
appeared. I remember apologizing for messing up her lunch break. She said it
was ok and she wouldn’t miss it. SO much madness was happening. Next thing I
remember is being put under then being awakened but pressure on my stomach. I
went to scream but couldn’t because I had a tube down my throat. I opened my
eyes to look around. I didn’t see my baby. Just Angela. She told me he was ok.
He cried when he came out and he was so beautiful. I fell asleep.
I was in and out of it for a while. Before I went under I
asked the nurses to take pictures of him for me. So while I waited for my pain
meds, I looked through the photos of my tiny little guy. I’d fall asleep, wake
up to loom through pictures, fall asleep, wake up to call and text people and
repeat. Cameron Jacob entered the world on November 16, 2012 at 1:27a weighing
1lb 15.5oz and 14 inches long. Around 5 am Angela took me to the NICU to see my
son. He was so tiny. In his new home, the isolette. I fell asleep again. When I woke up I called my mom and she came
to the hospital. She checked on me and then went to see CJ. She said he was so
little. I was in so much pain. After being on magnesium for so long I couldn’t
move my left side. I wanted to get up so bad to see my baby. I finally saw him
that night. He was on SiPAP. So many machines. So many alarms. It hurt to see
him like that. I got my NICU orientation paperwork and went back to my room. I
wanted to breastfeed so a pump was waiting for me upon my return. I started
pumping. The next day I took my drop to the NICU and was told “You can’t
control what happens here [NICU] but you can control the milk you give your
baby”. I made it my priority to pump!
On November 19th I was discharged. I took the
long, agonizing walk to the NICU to say goodbye to my baby. It was so hard. I
cried as I held him little foot. His little trouble making foot, and told him I
would be there as much as possible no matter what. I kept it brief and sweet.
As I walked out of the NICU, down the hall back to my room I broke down. I
couldn’t walk. I couldn’t believe I was leaving without him. I had tried so
hard for weeks to keep him in. I failed. I wanted him home. I cried so hard my
mom found me and helped me up. “He will be ok Chey.” After 76 days in the NICU,
CJ was released on January 31, 2013 with just an apnea monitor. He has done so
well to be born so prematurely. He is 4 months old (1 month adjusted) and came
off of his apnea monitor on March 27th. I am so blessed to have my
little miracle in my life.
Wednesday, March 6, 2013
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| First time meeting Oliver. |
My first two trimesters of pregnancy were pretty normal with all the average pains and discomforts. I started getting pretty bad swelling in the middle of my second trimester. Around week 24 I even had to get an ultrasound on my left leg because they were concerned I had a blood clot. It was around that time they started drilling the symptoms of pre-e into my head, telling me to call immediately if I started to experience them. My swelling improved a little with pressure stockings and I continued on in my pregnancy. Around week 28 I was diagnosed with Gestational Diabetes and was warned that this also increased my risk for pre-e. But it wasn't until around week 30 that I went in for a normal check-up and my blood pressure was very high. I was sent straight to the hospital to get a Non-stress test in labor and delivery. It was scary but after laying down for about an hour my blood pressure went down to a safe place. I was sent home and the next day I did my first 24-hour collection test. I ended up in labor and delivery the next day with really high blood pressure again. This time my NST took about 6 hours while they tried different things to get the readings they wanted from my son. Eventually they gave me IV fluids (it took them 4 tries to get the IV placed!) and was released again afterwards. From there on out I was on bed rest. I had no idea what to do with myself, I went from working over 40 hours a week managing a salon which I walked to and from every day, to not even being able to walk down to my mailbox.
The next few weeks were full of marathon napping and intense boredom and loneliness. My favorite days were the 2 days each week I would go in for NST's. They told me to have my bags packed for the hospital because any appointment may end in me being sent to deliver. They did a growth ultrasound at 34 weeks and I was told my son was already 5 lbs and would likely be around 8 or 9 if I went to 40 weeks. I was put on labetalol to try and lower my blood pressure, though it just continued to rise even as we increased my dosage. I'm really glad I was able to hold out as long as I did and that my son was already so big (from the GD I guess?). I made it to week 35 before another 24 hour collection test came back showing a high level of protein in my urine. The same day the results came back my left leg had suddenly swollen a massive amount. My OB had me go in to see her and scheduled another ultrasound for my leg. When I got to my OB's office she checked me out and tested my reflexes. My reflexes were scary jumpy, she told me she was cancelling the ultrasound on my leg and would have someone do it later on in the hospital. I was sent straight to labor and delivery to get on a magnesium drip to prevent a seizure. When we got there we had to check in, I remember the lady at the desk asked me my name and when I opened my mouth to tell her I just started crying. My husband had to check me in.
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| First snuggles at 4 days old. |
So we got settled into the hospital room. Again it took the nurses a few tries to place my IV. This was the beginning of becoming a human pin cushion for the next three days. Blood draws every 3 hours, and testing my blood sugar every hour until I had delivered. They started my induction around 6pm with prostaglandin gel, later on adding pitocin to my IV. My OB was on call at her other hospital so the on-call from her practice was in charge of me for most of my labor. I had never met her before but I am so grateful for her. I really didn't want my induction to end in a c-section and I really felt like she was on my team. I labored for 12 hours before my cervix did anything. She told me before she checked it that as long as it had done something she would let me keep laboring. I was only a fingertip dilated, which she said was less than a cm, but it was a change so she would let me keep going. I had another six hours to get to 3-4cm to have my waters broken or it was off to c-section land. Well about 5 hours later my water broke on it's own (my tiny victory!). This was also when labor really started to get unpleasant. There was lots of throwing up, my IV site was throbbing, the pitocin induced contractions sans the bag of waters were more painful than I could handle. The nurse let me get into a hot bath (with the IV, monitors, blood pressure cuff and all) but it did not help as much as I had hoped it would. So I finally agreed to an epidural. I had really wanted to "go natural". But really there is nothing natural about being induced, pumped full of magnesium and pitocin, and being strapped into bed with monitors around your stomach and a blood pressure cuff squeezing the life out of your arm every 10 minutes...so...I decided the "natural" ship had sailed anyway. After the epidural I got to relax for less than an hour before the pressure on my pelvic floor was so intense I asked the nurse to check me. 10 cm and baby at station +1! They called my OB, who got someone to cover her on-call shift at the other hospital, so she could come deliver my son. She got there an hour later and we started pushing. It took awhile, and I definitely almost fainted, but finally I pushed out my 5lb 5oz little shmooshie.
I was scared, of course, when my OB told me I had to be induced. I was nervous when she explained the odds and statistics of what most babies born at 35 weeks are like. For some reason I was really optimistic, I had not really prepared myself mentally that he might not be ok.
I remember my OB placing him on my stomach with his back to me, I reached down to touch him but immediately someone from the NICU picked him up and said "I'm taking him." There was a lot of hustle and bustle around the little baby station at the other side of the room. My husband and mother watched the nurses work and I couldn't hear my baby. I was so scared, I kept asking them what was happening but no one responded to me. Finally I started hearing baby noises. At the time I thought they were good noises but later it was explained to me they were just labored grunts from my son trying to breathe. While I laid in the bed having a tear sewn up they bundled up my son, bagged him, and wheeled him out of the room. It was like I had been in a car wreck, it happened so quick and I really wasn't expecting it and then he was gone.
I got to meet my son about an hour later (I think?) down in the nicu. He was born in respiratory distress and had some fluid retention in his lungs. The first few days were scary and confusing, the cpap was a bit of a roller coaster. People kept assuring me he was fine but then alarms kept going off and they would increase his oxygen. It took a few days but he finally got over the desats. When they switched him to the high flow nasal cannula at 4 days old I finally got to hold him. His IV came out after 6 days and he spent the rest of his nicu stay learning how to eat, a few tries at the breast but mostly the bottle. He was in the nicu for a total of 13 days.
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| Oliver's Graduation Day, unplugged and ready to peace out! |
Monday, February 11, 2013
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| Born at 25 weeks - Virginia |
Its been a year since our parenting journey started on this wild ride. The crisp mornings and early sunsets that make September different from August in the Northeast are such instinctual reminders of this time last year. It was in that month before her birth that I realized how precious life is, how important faith is, what a truly amazing husband I have, and what an incredible support system of friends and family we have.
Until 20 weeks I had a perfectly normal pregnancy. I had been working out 5-6 days a week, eating (mostly) healthy, and had perfect checkups and ultrasounds. Around 20 weeks I started to notice my tummy occasionally getting hard while I was working out or sitting for a long period of time. Initially I thought it was the baby rolling, but then realized that it was likely braxton hicks contractions. Dr. Google told me that it was normal to have them that early but it still made me nervous. I had previously had a uterine surgery (septoplasty) that I knew put me a slightly higher risk for pre-term labor and cervical issues. Because of my history I had made a plan with my OB at the first appointment to have monthly ultrasounds to monitor for any cervical changes. Once I started noticing sporadic braxton hicks contractions I called my OB and asked that we move up my scheduled ultrasound from 23 weeks to 21 weeks. He agreed and also eased my concerns stating that serious complications would be rare even with my history, but it was worth being cautious.
I was convinced that everything was fine, but was glad that I would have piece of mind after the ultrasound. Unfortunately I knew something was definitely wrong as soon as I saw the ultrasound image on the screen mounted to the wall in front of me... the baby's tiny feet were slipped down into what looked like a funnel. This is definitely not what my weekly "your baby is this big" email from babycenter.com looked like. In an instant my heart sank, my hands shook, and my mind went blank. My cervix was funneling and measuring 2.2 cm. A full 1 cm shorter than the measurement at my ultrasound 3 weeks prior. Again, my doctor put me at ease. He explained that while my cervix was effacing much earlier than normal it did not mean that I couldn't continue to have a healthy pregnancy, albeit one spent on bedrest. I felt better, composed myself and left the office determined to do everything I could do to keep the baby cooking. We canceled all of our plans for traveling to our niece's baptism and babymoon in Montauk and set up a new routine at home. I was ready to spend the next 4ish months alternating between my bed and the couch. My first week of bedrest went really well. I hardly had any braxton hicks contractions, I was able to get quite a bit of work done from home, my spirits were high, and we already had so much support. It was a week later and a week closer to a healthy baby.
Again, I walked into my OB's office pretty confident that things would be ok. I thought for sure that the measurements would either be the same or maybe even better. Afterall I had gone from being very active (including long runs and workouts) to laying around and doing nothing for a week. This time I had no idea what I was looking at when the image came up on the screen. I didn't need to though, the look on the ultrasound technician's face was an unmistakable look of sympathy. There was basically nothing left to measure and they sent me right over to the hospital for observation, testing and a possible cerclage the next morning.
The two days that followed were the hardest of our lives. We had consultations with many doctors. We were hopeful that a cerclage to stitch my cervix shut could be done, but didn't meet a single doctor willing to recommend the procedure because of the risk of sending me into immediate labor. Even the doctors that suggested that our baby had very little chance of making it to viability were unwilling to perform a cerclage. It was unbelievably confusing, scary and heartbreaking. Over those 2 days, My Husband and I talked about things that no expectant parents should have to discuss. Would we name the baby? Would we baptize the baby? Would we want to be alone? It was a relief to discuss and decide on the unimaginable and move on so we wouldn't have to make these decisions at even more emotional and stressful moments. From then on we only accepted hope and despite all the grim statistics we decided to believe that we would be okay.
We counted days, days that felt like years. Somehow days turned into a week and then another week and suddenly we had reached viability. I received steroids to help the baby's lungs mature and was moved from the general gynecology floor to the antepartum maternity floor where they were better equipped to monitor my condition. We went from desperation veiled as hope to so much hope. My first ultrasound in 2 weeks revealed that everything was the same. I was still fully effaced but was not dilated. It seemed like I had stabilized! My doctors were equally surprised and confident that it meant that I could remain pregnant for much longer than anyone expected. I was even given a discharge date of December 10th (32 weeks).
Again we were confident. No contractions, the baby was growing well, I felt good, I had a steady stream of visitors, and we were prepared to spend the next 8 weeks in the hospital. Just a few days later, late in the night on a Tuesday things deteriorated, I felt different and knew something was wrong. I will never forget the fear as I waited for the chief resident to come to my room. I shook like a leaf; fear and disbelief once again took over. The resident determined that I was 3cm dilated and my membranes were in the birth canal. In a matter of minutes they were inserting IVs into my arm and wheeling me to the labor and delivery floor. I called my Husband, who didnt hear any of the phone calls. We have no family and the area, so I ultimately had to call the police to go knock on our door to awake my husband. It must have been the scariest night of his life too, he walked into the hospital not knowing if I had already delivered. During the wee hours of the night, while in the haze and overwhelming heat of magnesium, there were ultrasounds showing that the baby was in the least favorable position of feet down, we met with anesthesiologists, met with my on call OB, met with the on call MFM and most sobering of all we met with the neonatoligist. We were once again given the statistics; survival statistics and disability statistics for a baby born at 24.5 weeks. She also attempted to prepare us for what we would see and how they would attempt to help our baby. Hours turned into shifts and then days and somehow things stabilized again. I desperately wanted to get back to my room on the antepartum floor and desperately wanted to be able eat again (I was NPO for several days while on magnesium). I felt like a ticking time bomb on the labor and delivery floor (I was) and wanted to go back to "my" room where I hoped to turn days into weeks again.
After 3.5 days in a labor and delivery room on strict bedrest (otherwise known as the the 7th level of bedrest hell where catheters, bedpans and sponge baths are very much a reality) my doctor agreed to let me go back to "my" room on strict bedrest. I told him I was ready to last another few weeks and for the first time he didn't share the same optimism. He gave it to us real. It was Friday afternoon. He was on call all weekend and said he wouldn't be going home all weekend. He didn't think I would still be pregnant when he signed off to the next OB on Sunday night and wanted to be sure he was "in house" for what would likely be an emergency situation. He anticipated that my water would break and had us prepared for a crash c-section and a very frantic but well rehearsed series of events.
By dinnertime on Friday the 21st I was back in "my" room and more importantly back in "my" bed which was far more comfortable than the beds on labor and delivery which were very clearly made for birthing babies and not for sleeping. In hindsight I was very much preparing for Virginia's immanent birth while putting on a face of strength and hope. We narrowed down names to 2 boys names and 2 girls names, something that we hadn't discussed since the series of unfathomable conversations that Heath and I had during those first 2 days in the hospital. By the next morning I knew I was going to give birth that day. I tried to convince myself otherwise, but even my favorite Resident's prediction that I would prove my OB wrong and make it to Thanksgiving was not enough to distract me from what I already knew. I called my nurse a few times and she said they weren't picking up any contractions on the monitor belts that had been strapped to my belly for the last few weeks. I called her again and asked her to page my doctor. I was right. I was 7cm dilated, as scary thought since she was still breech and a baby so small can be delivered before being the full 10cm dilated. I thankfully skipped my breakfast knowing that I would need a c-section and was soon back down in the same Labor and Delivery room.
If you have to give birth to a baby 15 weeks early, you want it to be under the most controlled and ideal circumstances. Somehow I had avoided infection and somehow my water had not broken. We were down in Labor and Delivery under fairly calm conditions. There was definite tension in the air as micropreemie births are not an every day occurrence even in the best of hospitals. The calm erupted into controlled chaos when they thought the baby was going into distress. Suddenly seconds felt like hours until I was in the OR and they confirmed that the baby was fine. Things calmed down and instead of being put under general anesthesia I held my OB's hand as they tried and tried and tried and finally succeeded at giving me a spinal. It was all so surreal- it still is. My most distinct memory of that day is laying flat on the cold operating table and looking down at my bare belly before they put up the blue screen. I could see the tips of my toes, the little pregnant belly I had in the days prior was mostly gone because the baby was so far down in my pelvis. It was so unsettling, so surreal. Heath joined me in the OR as they started the operation. He sat on the left side of my head and held my hand. Within minutes the baby was out. 11:11am. Absent was a cry that we wouldn't hear for another 8 weeks. 10 or 15 minutes later they announced it was a girl and let us know that she was successfully intubated.
The rest was hazy and none of it mattered. It was a new fight, a fight that I unfortunately could no longer fight for Virginia. We could only hope, pray and BELIEVE that she would fight. This is the end of this story and the beginning of the most amazing story I have ever known.
You can read Alyssa's full account of her birth story on her blog.
Friday, September 14, 2012
Nora's story started back in May of 2010. We knew that it would take some time to get pregnant since I have PCOS, so Todd and I tried to get pregnant for almost a year and a half using fertility pills. After an entire year we decided to take a break over the summer, and low and behold on September 9th 2011 we found out that we were pregnant! My due date was May 14th 2012. I was extremely sick for the first 17weeks and after that I felt great and was able to finally start enjoying my pregnancy, that was until week 25.
On February 1st, I woke up for a routine doctor visit that was scheduled for 10:30am for my glucose test. Nora was 25weeks 2days gestation. As I was getting ready that morning I started noticing some slight cramping, I didn't think much of it and kept getting ready. As I got in the car the cramps were getting a bit worse but I thought maybe they were braxton hicks. I called Todd told him what I was feeling, told him I would run it by the OB but I was sure everything was fine and she would tell me it was all normal. In the Dr appointment I told her, "ya know the only reason I am saying anything is because they are happening like every 15-20min." So she checked me and said, that my cervix was softening but was not dilated. So she sent me home, told me to take it easy, drink lots of water, put my feet up and call her if I have more than 6-8 "cramps" in an hour. Well I went home, and in the first hour I had 8... I totally tried to downplay them. I was in such denial and terrified all at the same time. I thought if I ignored them, surely they would go away. I was on the phone for most of that hour with Todd, I told him I had had 8, but 2 I could barely feel so we wouldn't count those <--- idiot! Thank God Todd knew better, he left work, told me to call the hospital and tell them we would be coming into triage.
By the time we had arrived in triage and I was checked it was 2:30pm and I was already 2cm dilated!! WHAT??? I am pretty sure I went into panic mode at that point. The Dr told me I had a slight UTI, he would put me on antibiotics for that, jack me up on Magnesium sulfate (worst crap ever!) and send me to the special care unit. They did an ultra sound to make sure she was head down, which she was, and to check her weight. They predicted her at being 1lb 14oz. I could not even fathom what 1lb 14oz's looked like...I mean seriously...a 1lb baby?? This is where my memory gets fuzzy and I have to rely on what my husband tells me happened. At 6pm I got my first steroid shot for Nora's lungs followed by my first dose of Mag. When they gave me the mag it made me sooo sick and it caused me to basically black out. The mag is a huge muscle relaxer, so I couldn't move my arms, my legs, I couldn't even barely lift my head. Poor Todd, every time I had to puke he had to run over and completely sit me up. The nurses told Todd that they had never seen someone react to mag as badly as I did. They planned on giving me the first steroid shot at 6pm that night and then the second at 6pm the next night, then they realized they didn't have that kind of time, so it turned into 6pm and 6am, then they realized they didn't even think they had that time, so i got the first one at 6pm and the second one at 3am... I am no doctor but I know that it was ultimately God, but also those shots that saved Nora's life. I know I complain about the mag and how much it sucked, but it kept Nora in long enough to get the shots, and let them be in my system for a while to actually start to work. I know they tried all through that night to stop my contractions but to no avail. At 3:30am I was wheeled into labor and delivery and they started making preparations for delivery, even ordering my epidural (which I never received that night). At around 6:40am Todd sent out a desperate plea for prayers on Facebook, and by 8:30am my contractions had finally stopped, and I was 3-4cm dilated! They told me then that I would be on hospital bedrest until Nora was delivered and that they would do everything they could to stop it, but she would most likely be here within 7days.
Over the next few days, we had consults with a MFM (maternal fetal medicine), and with one of the Doctors from the NICU. They were trying to prepare us for what to expect with the birth of a 25weeker. Let me tell you, those are the scariest conversations I have ever had, and thankfully I don't remember most of them because of the mag. Apparently I straight fell asleep in the middle of one conversation I had with my MFM. The nurses thought it was hilarious that the doctor put in my chart "patient fell asleep, continued conversation with her husband." haha like I said...the mag and I did not get along! But I do remember praying to God saying, I will lay in this bed for the next 15 weeks...just please don't let her come early,please!! God had other plans though...
Two days later on February 4th, they decided that I was finally stable enough to wheel back out of labor and delivery and back to the special care unit. They wheeled me out at noon, and at 12:10pm my contractions started again. This time they were not able to stop them. I labored, panicked, terrified, and sick to my stomach for hours. They jacked me back up on more mag then I was on the previous few days and told me to try my best to relax...right. Todd's family was there, but all I wanted was my Mom and/or sisters, who were all at my other sister's baby shower. The nurses kept asking me if the contractions were strong and I kept telling them no, I thought if I told them how bad they really hurt that they would give up on trying to stop my labor. Because Nora was so small they couldn't even track most of my contractions on the monitor. How they knew I was having a contraction (with out me telling them) was because Nora's heart rate would dip with every contraction. Todd could see it all over my face every time I had a contraction, but I don't think he quite understand my insane logic of thinking at the time. He kept saying, Renee I know their getting stronger, you can no longer talk through them. I just really remember thinking, if I can keep lying about how strong these contractions are, they will keep trying to stop my labor. Finally around 5pm my Mom got there, and around 6:30 my water broke and they finally told me they were not going to be able to stop it this time, I was dilating way to fast. I absolutely broke down... I lost it. I was terrified for Nora, terrified that she would not make it. They started preparing me, telling me that she would not cry when she was born, she would not be placed on my chest, that I would not see her when she was born, and they would be rushing her to the NICU right after birth. I was supposed to have a joyful birth, full of fun, excitement, and anticipation. Not one of fear, terror, and horror-stricken panic. Around 7pm they finally turned the mag off, in hopes that I would be able to start to feel my legs and arms, and be able to lift my head for delivery. As soon as they turned the mag off, my labor progressed rapidly. By 8pm I was 6-7cm dilated and had just gotten my epidural in a last ditch effort to stop them. By 9:50 I was 8cm and by 9:55 I was 10 and ready to go! I have never in my life been more scared than I was in that moment. I remember just crying in shear desperation, just begging and pleading that she stay in, I kept repeating over and over again...its too soon...she's to small!
By 10pm my entire labor and delivery room was full of 10 NICU staff (nurses, Nurse practitioners, neonatologist, and respiratory) and then 5 more labor and delivery nurses and a doctor. You could barely move in that room there were so many people. With me was Todd and my Mom. I needed my Mom in there so that Todd could leave if he was able to be with Nora and she could stay and comfort me. After just 2 short pushes, Nora Katherine was born at 10:38pm weighing only 1lb 14oz and 13in long. When the doctor held her up for a split second for me to see, I lost it again. She was tiny and pink but did not cry at all. I knew she was going to be small, I knew she was going to be beyond small, but you can never begin to prepare yourself for that. I had no idea how something so small could ever survive. She took my breath away and I began to pray like I have never prayed in my life. I must say though, she was tiny, but she was perfect. Todd stood by my side, listening to everyone working on his precious daughter. They intubated her right away in my room and tried to get her as stable as possible. All I remember Todd saying over and over was, "they said she took a breath...they said she is breathing, babe she is breathing...shes breathing" I knew it was all machine/vent breathing but I just kept thanking God that she was alive. They worked on her for about 20min before they put her in her isolate, wheeled her next to me so I could get one good look at her, and then they rushed her to the NICU.
Todd was able to see her an hour later, and I was able to finally see her at 1am after my epidural had worn off. She was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. She gripped right onto my finger, opened her eyes and looked right at me. That paired with the first time I got to hold her were some of the best moments of my life.
We didn't know until months later how critical her first 12hours of life were. The neonatologist told us there were several times they did not think she would make it, and every time I think about that I cry. Nora was born with an infection called Chorio, also within the first few hours of life she had a blood transfusion (within 6hrs of being born) and developed a bilateral grade 4 brain bleed (the most severe brain bleed you can have, that we would find out about 10days later).
They are still not positive on why I went into labor so very early, it could be a number of things, or just 1 individual thing, but unfortunately there is no way for us to know. I have a bicornuate uterus which can sometimes cause pre-term labor, but I came into the hospital with a UTI and Nora was ultimately born because of a sever infection in my uterus. There is no way to know if the UTI started everything, which then would have caused me to go into labor, and then being dilated caused the infection, or if the infection came first, if the bicornuate uterus caused the pre term labor etc... We were told that when a women goes into labor early, if caught very early, a lot of times the doctors can stop it, but when there is an infection the drugs will not work, and the baby knows its uninhabitable and it has to get out. Which is exactly what Nora did, and I thank God everyday that she did, less she could never have survived in there with the infection.
What she has been able to overcome is nothing short of a miracle. Everything that happened on those horrific scary days is nothing short of a miracle. The fact that I had a Dr appointment on the day my contractions started, (I would never have gone in because i didn't think they were contractions), is a miracle. The fact that they were able to stop my labor if even for a few days, so that the steroids could take effect is a miracle. The fact that Nora was born alive, even though her blood count was severely low, she was not breathing, she was magged out, and had a potentially fatal infection.... an absolute miracle. The fact that Nora had a bilateral grade 4 brain bleed... that could not be identified just a few short weeks later... miracle. The fact that she would later overcome 2 more potentially fatal infections...miracle. The fact that Nora is a happy, healthy 7month old right now.... MIRACLE!!! I would never have imagined the very worst, most terrifying day of my life, would also turn out to be one of the best... I can't imagine having a worse start to your life, but she is a fighter and she is our little miracle. We thank God everyday for her. Todd and I are forever grateful of all the miracles God has performed in our lives and especially with our sweet baby girl. My life changed the moment I had her, in ways I never ever imagined. I walked into that hospital on Feb 1st one person, and back out May 10th a completely different person. Nora has taught us more in the first 5months of her life so far, then she will ever know. I could not be more proud and in love with my little miracle.
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