Surprise!

Thursday morning, I woke up shortly before 8 feeling like I had started bleeding again. I hurried to the bathroom, but instead of blood I just found some discharge, mostly clear and wet with little streaks of red and brown in it. After I got back to bed, I could still feel it trickling out. I called the nurse and she assured me it was just discharge that had pooled while I was sleeping. 

Not sure I believed her, I called her back an hour later when it had continued to trickle out. She said it was common for vaginal discharge to be heavier in the third trimester and it was really nothing to worry about. The resident doctor came in a short while later and said the same thing. My doctor came in shortly after the resident while on her rounds, and she seemed to appreciate that this could be something else. At the time, it seemed to have stopped, but she said to let them know if it got worse and they would check to see if my water had ruptured. 

About a half hour later, my pad was drenched. Thankfully, a different nurse came in just after this discovery to check on me. I explained it to her and showed her my pad. She told me that she heard my story earlier and thought from that that my water might have ruptured, and now she was almost certain. She went off to collect what she needed to check and I put my husband on standby. He was thankfully off work that day and was just waiting for laundry to dry before heading out to spend the day with us.

In the nurse’s initial check, the fluid was positive as amniotic. She said she had to send the other sample to the lab to verify, but yes, it appeared my water had broken. I told my husband to come out, but we didn’t want to tell anyone yet, because we weren’t sure what the game plan would be. I wasn’t having any contractions, and had heard plenty of stories of women whose water had broken and they didn’t deliver for another few days. We were just going to take it as it came, but we knew our little one would likely be here soon.

The nurse had told me I could go ahead and shower, and when I stood up, there was no doubt in my mind that my water had broken. I went ahead and took a shower mostly because I had been planning on washing my hair that day, and if I ended up delivering, there was no way my hair was going to get washed for a few days at least! So I took care of that one practical thing I could do, and by the time I was done, I heard the doctor and the nurse come in with a “holy shnikes” at the mess I had made when I stood up.

When I came out of the bathroom, the doctor and resident were there with an ultrasound machine. They checked and sure enough, all the fluid had leaked out. They explained that it was time for this baby to come out, but there was a slight problem—a woman at 35 weeks was already getting ready to go back for a C-section, and there was only one room available in the NICU. That meant there was a chance one of us would have to have our baby transferred to another hospital. Because I was only 34 weeks and 2 days,  my doctor said she would try her hardest to get me in first.

When they put the fetal monitor on me and she saw the baby’s heart rate, she said, “He’s okay but we need to get him out now. You’re going first.”

It was that moment that my husband walked in, and I laughed, “Who wants to tell him?”

Everything started happening very quickly after that. Thankfully, the OR was prepped and ready to go for a C-section, so it was a matter of getting me hooked up to an IV and moved down the hall. My husband and I looked at each other and were just like, “I guess this is it!” We were so ready to meet our little guy, and so taken off-guard by how things were going down, but we tried to just roll with it. I was obviously a little nervous about the surgery, but because everyone on our care team was so confident and reassuring, I was able to tamper my nervousness with excitement to meet our baby! And for this pregnancy to be over...

My husband had to wait in the room while I was taken down to the OR and prepped for the surgery. They gave me a spinal block, which was unpleasant for a moment, but my nurse and doctor held my hands and helped me breathe through it. I felt a little woozy during that time, but they quickly got me laying down on my back, and I focused on my breathing while everyone rushed around and the anesthesiologist gave me something to subtly boost my blood pressure.

I had to keep my arms out to the side (thankfully they weren’t strapped down), and I couldn’t help but think of Jesus on the cross—“This is my body, given up for you.” And I marveled at this way in which women have the opportunity to give up their bodies to bring new life into the world. I thanked God for everything, offered up all those I have promised to pray for, and then began repeating in my head and heart, “Jesus, I trust in you.”

My doctor, who was only there for moral support as the actual surgical OB would be performing the surgery with the resident surgeon, held my hand until my husband got there. I couldn’t feel anything or see over the blue curtain they had placed in front of me, but I felt like they had started before my husband arrived. I asked if he was coming, and a minute later he was there.

The anesthesiologist talked me through what I would be feeling throughout the procedure—some weird tugging here and there, some pressure, etc. My husband and I looked at each other excitedly, though he kept peeking to watch the progress of surgery, totally fascinated.

It was barely a couple minutes before I heard people saying, “There he is!” And then I heard him—his tiny little cry that even now makes me tear up with happy tears. It was the most beautiful, relieving sound in the world. They held my baby boy up and I have literally never been that happy before in my entire life. We grinned and laughed at his grumpy little face and marveled at how big he seemed for being born almost 6 weeks early. 

Apparently my husband was able to cut the cord and go see our baby as they got his vitals and cleaned him up. I was oblivious in my happy tears as I listened to him crying and the anesthesiologist talking me through what was going on.

Suddenly my husband and my son were next to me, and even though what I was experiencing physically was extremely uncomfortable and weird, I was overwhelmed with joy.

He weighed 4 pounds 15 ounces and was 18.5 inches long—a decent size for his age! The nurses were amazed that he was so big, and they were impressed with his lung function. His vitals were all good, and though we’d been told the chances were high he’d have breathing difficulties, he was just fine.

When the procedure was over, they placed him on my chest for skin to skin bonding, and rolled us back to the room that we’d lived in together for two weeks. The difference was that now we could see him and snuggle with him. We preferred it that way.

Honestly, I was amazed at how smoothly and quickly everything had happened. Whenever I had thought about having an emergency C-section, I imagined the absolute worst case scenario—waking up in the middle of the night bleeding profusely, my husband not being able to get there in time, the placenta being completely detached leading to horrible complications, etc.

But this happened in the light of day. Even as I was leaking fluid, I was incredibly grateful the whole time that it wasn’t blood! The OR was already prepped for a C-section, and everyone was ready to go, so there was no time wasted there. Though I do feel bad about hijacking that other woman’s surgery. . .I’m thankful that she was able to wait and they were able to keep her and her baby together too!

Though our sweet boy is in the special care unit, he is amazing everyone with how well he’s doing! They call him a rockstar and applaud him for acting like a big boy even though he’s a little guy. He hasn’t had any real trouble at feedings, and he’s hardly fussy at all. He had slightly elevated bilirubin levels today so they are keeping him under the special lights to take care of that. He has super cool teeny tiny sunglasses on and now looks the part of a real rockstar!

It’s hard not staying in the same room as him, but I’m trying to focus on letting myself heal knowing he is receiving better care than I am able to give him right now. They moved our room closer to his, so I try to see him as much as I can. Shortly after our first skin to skin time after his delivery, he was taken to the special care unit, and then I got sick from the anesthesia. They gave me some anti-nausea meds that let me sleep through most of the night, and my husband went to be with the baby. So between that, the pain and discomfort that follow abdominal surgery, and trying to pump every 2-3 hours (with no real visible results yet—just trying to stimulate my body to get my supply going, something than can take 3-4 days for moms of premature babies), it’s hard. Especially since all I want to do is snuggle with him!

Still, my husband has been amazing caring for both me and our son. He is absolutely in his element and so incredibly happy. We are both so relieved and overjoyed knowing that after everything we’ve been through, we finally made it.

The struggles aren’t completely over: we have the usual postpartum issues of my physical recovery and the challenge of breastfeeding, but also, our sweet boy won’t be able to come home right away.  As my husband keeps reminding me, “It’s a turtle race.” We’re making progress, and we’ll get there. They originally said it would be about 2 weeks before we can bring him home, but if he continues to rock at life the way he has from the very beginning, it could be less time.

And honestly, I was already planning on being here another 3 weeks or so anyway. I think it will be easier to tackle that hospital time now that we can see his sweet, perfect little face and hold his perfect little hands, and feel his little heartbeat—our flicker of hope—beat next to ours. 

Chugging Along

Today marks 34 weeks, and three weeks until we get to meet our sweet baby boy face to face! It’s a relief to know that he is looking perfectly healthy and wonderful, and at a point in gestation where if he had to be delivered any complications at this point would likely be minimal. Also, having been in the hospital for over three and a half weeks now, we are more than halfway through our stay (at least, pre-delivery. But post-delivery will be a totally different experience than these long weeks have been.). It helps to know we are in that homestretch. 

The ultrasound today showed him looking great in all the measurable ways. I got to watch as he unclenched his fist and wiggled his fingers, and opened and closed his mouth, and his little body bounced as he hiccuped. It has truly been such a cool part of this pregnancy getting to see him grow and develop. I’ll be honest, even though we’ve seen more than 20 ultrasounds, I still don’t know what I’m looking at most of the time (even when the tech explains it to me, it still looks like a blurry blob!). But it still amazes us that that’s a little life swimming around inside of me. Miracle of miracles.

The scan also showed that the bleed from the abruption has grown about 1 cm, which explains the light bleeding/spotting I’ve had more days than not this past week. It’s still not enough to be immediately concerning, especially since our boy is still doing great. It has led to more monitoring sessions than usual this past week, which are admittedly annoying when they drag on for two or three or four hours. . .but they are all out of an abundance of caution to make sure there are no red flags.

All this to say that not much has changed. Our baby boy is still growing and living life to the fullest in my belly, and as long as that remains true and I don’t have any excessive bleeding, he will stay in there cooking. Again, that could change tomorrow, we just don’t know. And that’s why we’re here. I am confident that at this point there are so many people aware of and well-versed in our situation that if an emergency comes up, we will be well taken care of!

In the meantime, we’re taking each day as it comes. I have enough to do to keep me busy through the days while still getting plenty of rest. I started telehealth counseling today to try to start processing some of the big feelings I’ve had this pregnancy, which I think will be helpful. Although, I admittedly had a huge meltdown trying to figure out the technology required to fill out the paperwork on my iPad before I could start the counseling session (getting help for mental health should NOT ever be that stressful!), but we made it through.

And to be honest, I spend a lot of time just watching by belly as my son wiggles around and changes its shape in the strangest ways. He has taken to kicking the monitor almost as soon as the nurse puts it on him. Yesterday, he stuck his little bum out so much that the monitor slid right off. It was very much something his father would do, so I’m pretty sure he did it on purpose!

Thanks for sticking with us through this drama-filled journey, and for all of the prayers and kind words! Your support truly means so much to us. The end is in sight, and we will keep chugging along!

Another Week Down

We made it through another week! We are now at 33 weeks, which means only 4 (or less) to go before we get to meet our son!

The last few days as I’ve adjusted to life here at the new hospital have honestly been a little rough on me mentally and emotionally. This hospital is a little newer and nicer, and much smaller so the pace is typically slower. The nurses have all been really nice, and it’s been such a relief to actually see my own doctors on a regular basis. 

Last week was the first full week my husband went back to work though. Like I mentioned in my last post, we are not used to doing life apart from each other. He is wonderful and comes every day after work to have dinner and watch terrible movies with me, and spends his days off hanging around too. Still, I’m finding that there are too many hours in the day for me to think about how hard this separation is. And to think about all the possible worst case scenarios. 

It’s not that I don’t have anything to do—I have plenty to read and keep me occupied. I have just needed the last few days to become adjusted to the new environment and the fact that this will be my reality for the next month. I’m slowly feeling more adjusted, though, and I’m finding that dedicating real, mindful time to prayer, Bible study, and reflection every day has been immensely beneficial. It’s amazing how the darkness begins to fade when we choose to focus on the light! I know I owe a lot of that grace to all of the many people who have been praying for us. So many people have supported us through their thoughts and prayers, and I thank you! They are definitely helping!

Our Tuesday ultrasound this week was encouraging—our boy is growing at a healthy pace (even though I’m carrying low, this kid’s foot has finally found my rib cage!) and is still showing all good signs in terms of his organ function and movement. The placental abruption does not appear to have gotten worse, so that’s good news too!

It was all a relief to hear, but then I get that nagging negative feeling that all of our days of good news tend to be followed by scary bleeding episodes. But that’s exactly why I’m hanging out here in the hospital with daily monitoring. If something else happens, we will automatically have the care we need and won’t lose any time in an emergency.

We discussed with the doctor this week the terms of delivery as well. While at this point attempting an induced vaginal delivery would still be possible at 37 weeks, we all agreed that with everything I’ve been through and with all the risk still involved with an abruption, a scheduled C-section will be our best bet of a safe, healthy delivery. I would love to have a normal, natural birth, but I know that after all the anxiety and stress of this pregnancy, I would not have the physical or mental endurance to handle a long labor. And if anything went wrong during labor (as the chances are higher in my case that they would) an emergency C-section would have a higher risk of complications than a scheduled one.

I actually feel a lot more at peace having everyone on board with that decision. One of the reasons I love my doctors so much is that they really strive to allow for natural, intervention-free birth whenever is possible. And I always looked forward to that womanly challenge of giving birth naturally (or with drugs). But we all agree that this will be the best possible delivery choice for both baby and me given the circumstances. 

So that’s where we are. Baby boy is doing great, my body is stable for the moment, and at this point, we’re looking at just 4 more weeks until delivery. The end is in sight, and I so look forward to finally holding my sweet baby in my arms.

The Long Haul

Last Friday, I had hope that we would get out of here on Sunday, or at least at some point this week. Sunday didn’t happen, so then I wondered if maybe it could happen Tuesday after the ultrasound, assuming the results were good. The results of the ultrasound were good—the baby still looks great, thank goodness, and the abruption has not appeared to worsen, so that’s all good.

However, good results were not the only thing to factor into the decision of staying or going. My entire pregnancy has been littered with bleeding episodes, and already having several in the third trimester was not encouraging. We listened to the opinions of many doctors, some who said that it was likely safe to go home unless I had more bleeding, others who recommended staying for the long haul, until delivery at 37 weeks. After discussing it with our primary doctor, it was decided that given my history of going from stable to “we’ve gotta go” without warning, continuous monitoring in a hospital until delivery appeared to be the best, safest decision to give our son his best chance.

The goal at this point is to keep our baby in there as long as is safe for him, and that will be best ensured by me staying here. And also, if the time comes earlier than expected for him to be delivered, we will be right here and won’t lose any time in an emergency situation.

Once the decision was made that I would stay, though, we also decided that it would be safe for the baby and therefore in our best interest to transfer to the hospital that my OB is at. It’s farther from home, but it’s smaller and we would be in the direct care of our doctor and the others in her practice, rather than a random rotation of people sent to check in on me and offer their varying opinions on my situation.

Once I was discharged from the other hospital, I had a window where I could go home for a couple hours. It was such a nice little break, but also overwhelming. (But to be honest, everything is overwhelming these days—hello, hormones!) I had a chance to open some of the gifts people had sent to the house from our registry, which was fun. My parents brought over a rocker that I had wanted from my registry, and I sat cozily in it dreaming of the day I would rock our son in it. My in-laws made us a delicious non-hospital food dinner, and it was a lovely break from the crazy.

We didn’t linger too long though, because I wanted to make sure my husband could be there to help me get settled in at the new hospital without having to get home too late. As soon as we got up to the maternity ward, we saw one of our OBs, and that was a comforting feeling. Everyone was really nice and accommodating as they got us settled in, and I only cried a little bit wondering if this really was the best decision.

Of course, when I woke up this morning and had some more light bleeding, I knew it was the right decision. Thankfully, the bleeding was mild and short-lived, but even if I had been at home, I would have had to come back in anyway for another few days. This saved us at least one stressful trip! The baby still seems to be doing well, and we are glad that he and I are in a safe place.

We know that this is all for the best, but that doesn’t mean the whole situation doesn’t stink, because it really does. I try to focus on the positive, but that doesn’t mean the negative doesn’t exist. The stress level is high. I am able to relax a bit knowing that even if I was at home, I would pretty much only be allowed to sit around and get fat (and by fat, I mean more pregnant, but let’s be real—it’ll be a bit of both!). But it’s hard to not be able to do the whole nesting thing. This pregnancy has been so hard in a lot of ways, and I never thought something as simple as not being able to wash, fold, and organize my baby’s clothes would bum me out so much. But here we are.

Thankfully family has been very helpful with all of this, helping to get things clean and organized! But it’s hard not getting to do all that myself. I used to think maybe I should have started it all sooner, but then I realized:  between all the scares we had in the first half of the pregnancy, and all the moving we did in May (while I was also trying to work as many hours as possible without physically overdoing it), and all the waiting around to see if Covid would lighten up enough for some sort of a shower to be possible later in the summer, we never had the time.

It’s hard to think that when I get home, everything will be completely different. I’ll be exhausted recovering from having a baby and caring for my newborn, all while coming home to a home that I have lived in for a shorter amount of time than I have lived in a hospital. It’s overwhelming now, and it will probably only continue to be overwhelming for the foreseeable future. That doesn’t mean I’m not grateful. That doesn’t mean it won’t all be worth it. It just means it’s really really hard.

It’s also been really hard having to adjust to my husband not being here all the time. We have spent very few nights away from each other during our five years of marriage. Saying goodbye was really difficult those first few nights when he slept at home last week. Then I began to actually rest easier knowing that he was in our comfy bed and not the awful lumpy couch in the hospital room. While he goes to work all day to provide for us, I know that sitting in the hospital room and staying pregnant is my most important work right now. It’s been really hard, and it’s weirder now that I’m in a hospital twice as far from home. But the struggle through the sacrifices that we’re making to make sure that our son has his best chance has also brought us closer together. His coming to the hospital every day to have dinner with me is what gets me through the long hours of sitting alone in my emotional uncertainty.

While our situation could be much worse, and our baby boy still seems to be healthy and doing well, and we have a lot to be thankful for, this is still really hard. If I think about the fact that I will probably be in here for at least another five weeks, it’s truly overwhelming and I can’t control the tears. Then I think it could possibly be shorter for me, but that would mean that we would have to leave our son in the NICU, which is something we would prefer to avoid.

After all we’ve been through, our greatest hope is that our son will be delivered safely at 37 weeks with no complications, and we will all get to go home together within a few days of birth.

I try not to think about how nothing has gone our way so far. I’m trying to focus on the fact that for today, we are all here on this earth, hearts beating and full of love for each other. For today, that is enough.

It’s the Little Things!

Today marks over a week of being in the hospital, and it has come with some hopeful news:

—My red bleeding/spotting has pretty much diminished into old brown/black spotting. For me, this is a normal sign that my body *should be* done bleeding...at least for now. All of that means that there is a hope, a chance that I may be out of here on Sunday, unless something else concerning pops up before then. Which it totally could, so I’m not getting my hopes up too much—I’d already resigned myself to the fact that I could be here for a very long time, so mentally I am at least somewhat prepared for whatever happens.

The doctor we spoke to today (we see a different one every day, but more on that later) was awesome and she said it was good that I’ve been quiet and if I continue to be nice and quiet they will be more inclined to send me home. I didn’t tell her this, but quiet is generally how I prefer to live my life, so challenge accepted!

—They took my IV port out and said they would only put another one in if they needed to (i.e. if I have more heavy bleeding). I can’t even express how excited I was to wash a week’s worth of sticky residue off my hand and put all of the lotion in the world on it. I’m still getting used to having full use of it. It’s glorious.

—I have been granted wheelchair privileges so my husband can take me out of this room and into the sunshine and fresh air for an hour. The prospect of Vitamin D on my face is so exciting, especially since it is so hot out that the adventure will certainly require ice cream for cooling purposes. 

Otherwise, I’m getting used to the flow and rhythm of being in the hospital. Thankfully, I am mostly here for monitoring and rarely require much special attention. I don’t take that for granted, and I sometimes feel bad bugging the nurses for more water or another pillow, because I know they have patients with bigger, more urgent needs. But also, I need to hydrate to keep me and baby healthy so, I get over it. 

Some of the things I do to pass the time:

—pray and journal

—watch whatever terrible movies are on cable

—watch movies on my iPad

—play Spider Solitaire

—try (and usually fail) to nap

—pace slowly around the room and gently stretch to work out some of my sore muscles

—waste time on Instagram

—color in a coloring book that a friend kindly brought me.

I wish that I could do more writing or work on something more productive, but my brain is fried. 

Three times a day they do monitoring for the baby’s heart rate and any contractions I may have (I have been having more Braxton Hicks which don’t usually register and are really annoying, but occasionally I’ll have a couple legitimate ones). These are usually the highlights of my day because I get to listen to my son’s heartbeat and hear his big kicks and movements and sometimes his hiccups! They check my vitals several times a day, and we see a doctor once a day.

We have an odd doctor situation, since my OB only has privileges to practice at a hospital twenty minutes away from this one. The hospital we are at has a NICU that is equipped for babies born before 32 weeks, whereas my OB’s hospital can only care for babies born after 32 weeks, so long as they are at least a certain size. That makes it a little confusing and frustrating for everyone, since we just see whatever doctor is available from my OB’s affiliated group.

For the most part, they have all been good, some have been really great, and there was one (who is not affiliated with our OB’s group, but occasionally covers for them if they get caught up in an emergency) who made us extremely uncomfortable. We only spent about 5 minutes with him and knew we did not want to ever see him again, let alone allow him to treat me or our child. We finally told a nurse about our concerns and it was clear from her reaction that we are not the first ones to feel that way. Which upsets me, because women’s healthcare in this country is already extremely lacking and for someone like this to still be practicing after 40+ years is like pouring lemon juice in that paper cut.

So anyway, getting clear answers has sometimes been a challenge. My OB came by yesterday just to check on me, and that meant so much. We discussed the possibility of me transferring to her hospital next week (if I’m still hospitalized), and she said that was definitely possible, but she would want to see our next ultrasound (which will be on Tuesday) to see how things are looking and if our baby is also big enough to receive the care he might need in the NICU if he came too early. Even though the hospital we are at is fine and even closer to home, we would feel more comfortable having our own doctor and medical team around. We chose my OB because we really really like her. She’s also my husband’s primary care doctor, and she’ll be our son’s pediatrician, so if it’s possible, it will be worth the transfer just to be close to someone we know and trust.

The worst part of every day has been the discomfort from sitting in a lumpy hospital bed all day (and my poor husband sleeping on the lumpy couch) and the constant uncertainty. Like I mentioned earlier, I am mentally preparing myself for the possibility of being in a hospital for the next 6 weeks if necessary. I’m not crazy about the idea, but we are willing to do whatever we have to do to make sure our son is his healthiest and safest whenever the time comes for him to enter the world.

I am so thankful that my husband has been able to be with me this whole time. He usually leaves for a few hours a day to shower and check in at home and at work. Work has been extremely understanding of our situation, for which we are extremely grateful! But we had the hard discussion that if this drags on past this week, he’s going to have to go back to work, which will mean he’ll also need to be getting a good night’s sleep, which will be easier to do at home in a real bed. Unfortunately, due to the Covid cases rising again in our state, patients are only allowed one visitor per day, so I can’t have anyone come hang out with me during the day and then have him hang out with me in the evening. We agreed though, that for both of our mental health’s sake while we eagerly and anxiously anticipate the arrival of our son, we would rather be able to see each other even for a little bit every day than not at all. 

And who knows, maybe I will get to go home on Sunday until it’s time for our son to be born, and none of that will be an issue. At least for right now, I have some hope about that. And if nothing else, today we might get some ice cream in the fresh air and sunshine. It’s the little things!