A Flood of Emotions - A Chain of Events

Tonight as I watched the story about the Duggar Family's delivery of their latest child it brought back such a flood of emotions for me. Thankfully, our little one was only 2 1/2 weeks premature, which technically put him in the full-term category. Still a very scary few days for us prior to his arrival occurred. Since I have never really discussed/written about this I guess now is as good of a time as any.

For those who have followed this blog, our pregnancy was not easy. It started with 2 years of infertility treatments that finally ended up in an IUI that miraculously took on the first try. In fact when I did the first pregnancy test I couldn't believe it and ended up taking 5 more just to be sure. I called my doctor immediately and she had me start a medication that very day to help sustain the pregnancy for at least the first 12 weeks. This medication was not an easy one to take. It caused dizzy spells, nausea, and I was put on bed rest/light duty for the first 12 weeks.

We didn't tell anyone what was happening, because we weren't sure if this pregnancy would be viable since I had miscarried before. It was a very exciting, scary, and lonely time.

At about the 10th week, I got out of bed one day to take a dish into the kitchen and had decided to take a shower when all of a sudden I could tell I was bleeding. When I went into the bathroom to check, I could tell it was bad and even saw clots. I immediately called the doctor's office and my doctor was out of the office but was told I could come in for an ultrasound to see if the baby was still alive. I was terrified. I called Jim as I was rushing to the doctor's office in my car and shaking. (I even sped through a school zone.)

When I got to the office, they had me do an ultrasound and thankfully our little one was still alive and I had what they called a subchorionic hematoma. They don't know why it happens, just sometimes it does. The doctor that I did see didn't bother to take time to read our chart and even had the audacity to warn me about taking illegal drugs. I explained to him that all I was taking was what my doctor had prescribed and didn't appreciate his insinuation. The next time I saw our doctor I requested that I never be seen by any other doctor in the office again and even had her put in my chart that only she was allowed to deliver me. (This became crucial later in the pregnancy.)

As the pregnancy then went on, we had boughts of placenta previa, positive test for Down's Syndrome, edged umbilical cord, continual bleeding, and gestational diabetes. It caused me to go from always being on "light duty" and on bed rest more often than not. I also had to start giving myself insulin shots, which was not easy due to my previous extreme fear of needles. (I think I may have conquered that fear.)

As we entered into the 9th month, my doctor set up the C-Section the Monday before my due date since Tre was nearing the 90% for this growth which would make it impossible to deliver him without major complications. Plus I already had requested a C-Section due to all of the previous problems. (There were just too many red flags for my comfort level.) This was the earliest that she could set this up due to the new OB guidelines to not schedule a "normal" C-Section more than one week prior to the due date.

However, I started to notice that my feet were swelling really bad and when I would give myself insulin shots I was bleeding and the bleeding wouldn't stop for quite some time. Also my gums would bleed really bad when I would brush/floss my teeth. Separately these symptoms were not a big deal, but together they were not a good combo. Since I didn't realize this, I never mentioned it to my doctor who I was now seeing weekly.

The Friday before his birth I woke up at 3 am with severe chest pain. It hurt so bad that I could hardly breath. I kept thinking that maybe this was really bad heartburn and tried to sleep sitting up. I also noticed my heart was skipping beats every once in awhile, but figured that was due to stress since I have had that before. I didn't want to wake Jim, and gave myself an hour to see if it would go away. If not, I was going to the emergency room. It did, so I didn't worry about it.

Saturday I called my mom and told her what happened and she suggested it my be a gallbladder attack. Since I have never had one before, I decided to look it up on the internet. I found in a discussion room on babycenter.com a section on chest pain. There somebody mentioned that if you have chest pain that yes, it could be a gallbladder attack but to also be careful because it could be HELLP Syndrome, which is a dangerous but rare condition.

I decided to look up HELLP Syndrome and realized the my symptoms were awfully similar to what they were describing, except that my blood pressure was not extremely high, which is usually the first warning sign. (Mine was 120/90 at my last appointment and normally it is 110/70. A little high but still in the "normal" range.) Consequently, I didn't panic but kept it in the back of my mind.

Monday morning at about 3 am the chest pain came back only this time I could really tell something was wrong. I woke up Jim and told him I was scared. He asked me what I wanted to do and I truly did not know. I was scared to go to the ER because I knew our medical bills were getting pretty high already and I didn't want to rack up one more bill just to be told "You're fine. Go home." Not only is that frustrating, but it is humiliating when you get the "you're a new mom, aren't you?" look.

Monday I called the doctor's office and my doctor was not in that day, but I went ahead and saw another doctor. I figured that if it was serious enough, surely whomever I saw would not be dumb enough to miss it and if it was a gallbladder attack they would know what to do. I was wrong.

The ding dong I saw we had seen a couple of weeks earlier when my doctor was out of town. It was just a routine visit, but he did not bother to read my chart and had to ask why I was having a C-Section. When I rattled off everything that had happened during the pregnancy at this point, including what he had measured at the previous week, he realized that he had been caught not doing his job and hurried us out of the exam room.

When we saw him this time, he walked into the room sat on the "doctor stool" and rolled it to the back wall of the exam room. He laid his head against the wall and closed his eyes saying, "Now why am I seeing you again?" I explained to him the symptoms of the last couple of days. He then opened his eyes, gave me a look, and told me that I just had heartburn, to take a Zantac, and go home. I didn't, at the time, mention that my urine sample that I gave just prior to the appointment was extremely dark, indicating blood because I thought surely he would have said something. He then asked when I would see my doctor next and I told him that it would be the next day. He suggested that I do all of the "regular" things for that appointment at that time to save me a trip, but something told me to wait to see my doctor and I told him thanks but I would wait.

The next day I went to see my doctor. I had the non-stress test, ultrasound, and then my visit with her. Everything on the NST and ultrasound looked good, but again the urine sample was dark and this time even darker. When I saw my doctor I told her about the previous days' events and what had happened over the weekend. She also suggested that it could be heartburn, but this time I questioned and brought up the urine sample, my blood pressure being higher than normal, my heart skipping beats etc. She then ordered blood work and thought it may be pneumonia. I knew it wasn't, but wanted to see what the blood work would show.

When the nurse came in to draw the blood sample, she had a difficult time drawing blood. She asked if that had ever been a problem before and I told her no. In fact I am usually told about what good veins I have. After several attempts, she finally was able to get enough blood for a good sample.

The next morning, November 25, at 9:00 am I received a call from a nurse at my doctor's office. She told me that there were some abnormalities in my blood work but not to panic. They just thought it was a lab error and asked that I come back as soon as possible for a re-draw. When the phlebotomist went to take my blood, she noticed that they place where they did get the draw the previous day was black and blue. We both just chalked it up to a bad stick.

By about 2:30 pm, I still hadn't heard anything so I called and left a message with my doctor. I was getting nervous and really started wondering if it wasn't HELLP Syndrome that I was dealing with. Jim, by this time, had come home early from work since Thanksgiving was the next day. I explained to him that this could possibly be HELLP, but that it is rare. In the meantime we sat and waited.

At 3:27 pm I got a call and my doctor's nurse was on the phone saying that my doctor wanted to talk to me. I knew that that was not a good sign. She got on the phone and told me that I needed to get to the hospital right away because I did have HELLP Syndrome and that the hospital staff would be waiting for me. I immediately went down the hall and told Jim to hurry up in the bathroom because we were having a baby today.

We went to the hospital and checked in. My mind was swirling at this point. I couldn't believe that the moment was already here. I was terrified of the epidural and what that all entailed, but it was too late now.

We walked up to the maternity ward and immediately was rushed into the pre-surgery room for questions and for me change and get my IV. I was doing okay until the anesthesiologist came in and the nurse said, "This will be your new best friend. He is doing the epidural," and the anesthesiologist replied, "No I am not. I can't. She'll die." He then explained about how my platelet count had to be at least 200 to have an epidural and mine was at 50. I was at extreme risk of bleeding out and stroke at this point. They were also afraid of giving me a blood transfusion because my liver would kill off any new platelets. I, of course, was beginning to panic.

When they got me into the operating room, things went extremely fast. My doctor came in and told me that she was grateful to me for being so persistent. Otherwise, it could have been another week before this had been discovered and it would have been too late for myself and Tre, because they would not been able to save us. I was grateful that she had listened and took action, not just say I had heartburn and dismiss me as another nervous new pregnant lady.

The last thing I remember is the anesthesiologist telling me he was going to give me medication to put me to sleep and that it would really hurt. Also a nurse was helping him by putting pressure on my carotid artery but was pushing too hard and it really hurt as well. I then began to cry. It was all just so much to take in, and Jim wasn't allowed to be with me so I felt very alone. At this point, I knew my life was in danger and I wasn't sure if I was going to wake up. I have never prayed so hard in my life. Not only did I want to be able to mother my son, but I wasn't ready to leave my husband. He lost his mother on an operating table as a young child and I didn't want our son or Jim to go through that again. There were some other things that happened, but due to the spirituality of it I choose to keep that private. I'll just say that I know that there were guardian angels there that day and some were petitioning on my behalf to keep me alive.

When I woke up, my first words were, "10 fingers, 10 toes?" and was told that Tre was fine and healthy. We had made it!

As I have stated before, I am grateful that my doctor listened, that I advocated for myself, that there was information available for me to look up this condition so I knew how to advocate, that there was technology available to not only keep us alive but also to even allow us to make having Tre possible. The list goes on and on.

We did not have a lot of outside help along the way. Our parents live in different states and were not able to come unless absolutely necessary. Our ward/neighbors essentially ignored us and even afterwards when I told them that we didn't need meals because I had planned ahead, did so again. And yes, we did ask for help. We just didn't make ourselves obnoxious about it. This is where a listening ear and shoulder to cry on would have done wonders. There were those who tried to do so from afar (thank you!), but locally that rarely happened.

Or a quick vacuuming while I was on bed rest would have also been a blessing. With my husband working 60-70 hours a week and grad school, there was only so much he could do. However that was not an option in offerings, only meals, which I did not need. (And again, yes - we did ask.) I had made a month's worth of freezer meals.

I have journaled about various aspects of this experience. When I told someone in our ward that I had done this, I immediately was chastised as to why I would want to remember such bad times. However, I don't see it that way. I see it as wanting to remember to be able to help others. I would hope that I have learned enough from my experiences that I am more empathetic to others and treat them better than I was treated. In other words, a good learning experience and a chance to grow.

People have asked if we would ever consider having another child. To be honest, if someone could guarantee me the same type of outcome with having a healthy little one and no long-term side effects, I would. However, such an outcome is not guaranteed nor is there a guarantee that HELLP will not occur again. I have cheated death once. I am not sure if I want to try it again. Consequently, we are on the "we'll see" plan. There are some things that I have to take care of first before this is even a consideration.

All I know is this. I have learned a lot about myself, the medical field, and others. I have learned who my true friends are and who I can truly count on, including family. I have also hopefully learned a better appreciation and understanding regarding those who deal with infertility and difficult pregancies that I honestly would not have gained that knowledge of in any other way. I have learned the importance of "true" charity and support, including actions speaking louder than words. I have also learned the importance of "healthy" relationships and learning to let go of those that can be considered toxic. And most importantly I have learned a deeper appreciation for the sense of eternal and sacred concepts and making those more of a priority than they have in the past.

I guess it is all just a matter of perspective and circumstance. In the end, I am truly grateful.