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We were so lucky that our sweet boy only needed to be in the special care unit for a little over a week. On Friday the week after he was born, we were given the all clear to head home.

It was a huge relief, because we were way over being in the hospital. The only reason he had stayed as long as he did was that he was struggling to keep up his own body temperature. He had gained back almost all his weight from birth, and was only one ounce less when we left the hospital.

We knew it was a miracle he was doing so well. The special care nurses kept saying that he was a little guy acting like a big boy. The worst had been the two days they had him on the special lights to try and lower his bilirubin levels (to fend off jaundice). He looked like a super cute glow worm/rockstar in the little sunglasses they had made for him. But we weren’t allowed to hold him much. 

It broke my heart to see him hooked up to all the monitors and off-limits. It was difficult to find time to hold him or do skin-to-skin between him being in there and the fact that I was pumping around the clock.

In the early days after my own discharge, which happened on the Monday after he was born, the “weepies” as I called them had set in as my hormones shifted. I was perpetually crying at every little thing. It became even more difficult when my husband had to return to work (it made more sense for him to take extra time off work after we got home. At the hospital our boy was being taken excellent care of whether or not we were there.) and I was left alone in my hospital room without either of my boys for the first time. 

On the first day of being there alone, the doctors came in and talked to me about the possibility of taking our little guy home in a matter of days, which left me overwhelmed by the enormity of caring for him. I hadn’t been able to breastfeed him much, which had been our plan. How would I manage to figure that out at home alone? Would we have to give him formula too? Would he be able to keep his temperature up? How would I know if he was okay without being able to see his vitals at all times? 

Thankfully the nurses could see the overwhelm in my face and made sure to reassure me that they would not send him home until we were all sure he would be taken good care of. Those nurses were incredible, taking such good care of our boy, but also teaching us so much about the special care that a preterm baby required. They made sure we understood the feeding technique with a bottle, and they, along with the lactation consultants, assisted me in becoming more comfortable with breastfeeding (something I didn’t realize about preterm babies is that breastfeeding can easily wear them out. It’s something they have to work up to, hence my need to pump around the clock to keep my supply up. I will be writing a whole post in the future about that learning experience!). They encouraged my husband and I to help change our little guy’s diapers and clothes and be as involved as possible in his care.

My emotions kept my brain swirling with anxieties and doubts about my abilities to care for my baby. At first I was just immensely self-conscious by how little I knew about preterm baby care. I was overthinking things and afraid to become involved. I quickly realized that I needed to get over myself and accept with humility that I was new at this and I would be clumsy at first, but the more I practiced and the more I learned, the better and more confidently I would be able to take care of my baby at home. I eventually decided to bring my pump into our baby’s room during the day so I could spend most of the day in there, going back to my room only to eat and sleep. That helped me spend more time with him, and also learn more and gain more confidence in my ability to care for him. 

At one point I worried that he wouldn’t know I was his mother because of how little we’d been able to bond and all the wonderful nurses who had seemed to care for him better than I could. My husband gently made sure I knew how ridiculous that thought was. Still, I had to remind myself frequently that though I was not an expert at feeding him or changing him or bathing him, I was an expert at loving him. Yes, I would inevitably make mistakes while trying to do what was best for him, but I would always love the crap out of him. And even though the nurses were all enamored by his cuteness and genuinely cared for his well being, they couldn’t and wouldn’t ever love him like I do.

By the time the day came to take him home, we were so ready. Ready to be free of the hospital. Ready to start our new chapter as a family of three. We were nervous like any new parents, but so ready.

As my husband went to pull the car around, the nurse who had accompanied us out asked, “So will we be seeing you all again in another year or two?” It took me a minute to realize she was referring to us having another kid. I laughed and answered, “We’ll see. We need to figure out what went wrong this time and see what we can do to prevent it from happening again.”

When we were all safely in the car and heading home, my husband in the driver’s seat, our baby boy in the middle seat sleeping soundly as if he were made for a car seat, and me next to him on the passenger side, I relayed the interaction with the nurse.

My husband immediately replied, “Nothing went wrong! Everything that happened brought us this perfect kid and we wouldn’t trade that for anything, right?” He was right, and the beauty of the moment made me tear up as I gazed at the face of our perfect, sleeping miracle.

When I saw the doctor this week for my two-week follow-up, we gained some more insight into what caused my complications. During my C-section, I remember being on the table and hearing my doctor asking the surgeon if she could take a picture of my uterus, which was clearly bicornuate, or heart-shaped. (She shared it with us later and it looked like a creepy valentine.) I heard them examining the placenta and discussing my innards, but at the moment I was way too preoccupied with the little life that had been living in there for the last 8 months. I knew she would fill us in with details later.

Fill us in she did. We had expected that I had a septum in my uterus (an extra piece of muscle separating my uterus into two sides) that could be removed simply in an outpatient procedure to help prevent future miscarriage and possible complications. As it turns out, there was no septum, just a clearly bicornuate uterus, which means two clearly separate horns, or cavities. That was why very early on when I started bleeding, the two sides appeared to be functioning independently of each other—our little boy was implanted and growing on the left, and the lining on the right was shedding almost like a normal period as if I wasn’t pregnant.

That initial bleed led to the subsequent hematomas, the hematomas led to the placental abruption, the abruption led to the premature rupturing of my water. The doctor told me that there was no surgery, no interventions that could be done to prevent it all happening again. Any subsequent pregnancies of mine would be high risk. Everything could happen like it did this time, or it could be completely fine with no complications, or it could be way worse and end in greater complications or even a loss. She even told me something she didn’t want to tell me before—when she initially reached out to MFM (maternal fetal medicine, the specialists who monitor high risk pregnancies) they told her straight up that I would have a loss in the second trimester.

That information hit heavily. I looked at our baby boy and said with more certainty than ever before, “So he really is a true miracle.” It’s been a lot to let sink in, and I think we’re still processing it, but for now we are even more incredibly grateful for our sweet boy and even more thoroughly enjoying our time with him. We are even more convinced that all of the prayers and support of all of you who have shared this journey with us are what carried us as far as we did and brought our sweet boy home safely!  THANK YOU!

It’s still a lot to take in, and I don’t think we’ll really fully process it until we reach a point of wanting to try for another baby. It will be something that will require a whole lot of thought, prayer, and consideration with the knowledge we have now of how things could possibly turn out. We are nowhere near that point right now though. For now, we are incredibly relieved that I am no longer pregnant, and that our baby is in our arms and no longer in my belly.

Our little miracle is home and adjusting well to his new life here as he grows before our very eyes (he gained half a pound in his first four days at home!) and I am slowly adjusting to life outside a hospital again. In the first 24 hours I was afraid to leave him alone in case he suddenly stopped breathing (again, I was used to having him monitored constantly!), and every time I went to leave the bedroom, I reached to put my mask on my face before remembering that I was home and I didn’t need to. #pandemiclife

It’s all a little surreal how it all turned out. Because my emotions are still somewhat unstable, I’m trying not to think about it all too much right now, and instead focusing on our baby boy and taking in each beautiful day with him.

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! 

We’re Still Here

   We were supposed to spring out of the hospital today after our 31 week ultrasound, assuming the ultrasound went well. Thankfully, the ultrasound did go well—our baby boy is still looking good, the placenta is still doing its job, and the bleed is smaller. BUT shortly before we were led to the ultrasound, I had more red spotting.

It wasn’t much, but it was enough. At this point, any amount of red equals at least 72 more hours of monitoring. It’s frustrating—we were so close!—but ultimately for the best. By keeping us longer, they can continue to keep a close watch on baby in case any signs of distress from him may indicate a problem. Also, if the bleeding increases, at least we’re already here.

At this point, we are checking his heart via fetal monitor three times a day for twenty minutes each. Other than that, we mostly sit here and wait and wonder will happen. We’ve had long talks about what might happen depending on when our baby needs to be delivered. It’s scary to think about all the possible scenarios, but it’s been good for us to talk it out and sort through the various challenges we might have to deal with. 

That’s probably the most stressful part—knowing that today things are looking good, but any moment they could take a turn for the worse, and no matter how this plays out, it is not likely to be an easy, breezy recovery/postpartum/newborn period (is there such a thing, though?!). 

There’s not much else to say, other than that today is day 5 and we are in our third room. We had to switch rooms in the middle of the night Sunday night due to a toilet issue. Then when it was learned we would be here another few days (at least), it worked out better for us to be moved out of Labor and Delivery and over to the Mother and Baby ward (which is where we were on our last visit). It’s more comfortable over here, and we have a better view (we can watch people in the parking lot rather than stare at the roof) which makes me feel a little bit like a part of the world again.

It’s just all been very surreal, as I feel like this whole year has been for most people. It’s hard to believe that we we were just here three weeks ago—those 72 hours feel like a lifetime ago. They were followed by days of stress and uncertainty that eventually calmed into hope and optimism, and quickly led us back here. 

Even though we knew in the first week of January with the first bit of bleeding that this was not going to be an easy pregnancy, we never imagined just how it would all play out. The poor nurses keep asking, “So this is your second round of bleeding this pregnancy?” And we laugh and say, “No, but it’s the second round this trimester.”

It’s been tough, to feel like a lot of joy has been sucked out of this experience for us and replaced with worry and fear. Still, we say it every day, that this baby is 100% worth it. After years of hoping and praying for this baby, then being threatened by loss so early on, we have made sure to be thankful for every minute of his life, and we continue to hold onto that. 25 weeks ago we were heading into an ultrasound fearing that I was miscarrying our coffee bean-sized baby, and here we are today—watching the bizarre rolling of my belly as our several pound son stretches and wiggles and kicks and listening to the sound of his beating heart fill the room. Just that alone has made it all worth it, and we wouldn’t trade it for anything.

We are very excited to meet this boy, and admittedly ready for this drama-filled rollercoaster of a pregnancy to be over, but we are trying to be patient, knowing the longer he can stay in there the healthier he can be when he comes out into the world. So we are trying to wait patiently here, amid the tired and the stress and the fearing of the worst. At the end of the day, the patience isn’t always there, but the gratitude is.

Mama (Mia), Here We Go Again

Ahh the all-too familiar feeling of the hospital—we are here again at 30 weeks and 3 days.

As I mentioned in my last post, our ultrasound last week left me feeling very anxious. They told me to look out for more bleeding, but I knew that placental abruption could worsen without any signs of bleeding. I became very diligent about paying attention to our baby boy’s movements. It was really the only other thing that might tip me off to something being wrong.

He was very active for a few days, which helped ease my anxiety. Then one day he switched positions, and it became harder for me to feel his movements. In the next 24 hours, I was still feeling the amount of movement that is “standard,” but it was much less and much fainter than I was used to. The building anxiety got to me and I eventually texted the doctor. She said there was no harm in going to the hospital to get checked out, so late Sunday evening, we hopped to it.

Of course, everything was fine. His heart rate was great and as soon as he felt the monitor he began kicking at it. We were there for maybe an hour, and the nurse and my husband both were so sweet that they didn’t let me feel stupid for panicking. We all agreed—it was better to be safe than sorry, especially given our situation. I knew I could forgive myself for wasting our time much more easily than if I had ignored a possible warning sign and something turned out to be wrong.

The next day we had a scheduled appointment with the doctor, and we discussed my situation further to try and help my anxiety. The doctor empathized with our situation, and said that yes, the abruption could worsen without any outward bleeding, so the best course of action was to continue taking it easy and keep up with kick counts and weekly scans. We also learned that our chance of a C-section was at about 50/50 at the moment. If I had more bleeding, it would probably be more like 80/20. As for my anxiety, I made sure that the anxiety/sleep aid I had been prescribed in my first trimester and used sparingly was still safe to take, so if I felt panicky, I would have something to hopefully help me rationalize things.

Our weekly ultrasound appointment was the next morning, and we were delighted to see that our baby boy was growing, his heart and lungs were functioning properly, and the bleed from the abruption had not appeared to worsen or grow in size. We were still stable, and that was a relief.

I knew the relief would be short-lived, that after a few days, I would begin to wonder and worry if things were getting worse. I tried my best to focus on being positive and not thinking too far ahead. For the time being, our baby boy was kicking, my body felt fine (other than the typical aches and pains of the third trimester), and I was optimistic that we would at least make it to 32 weeks.

Two days after our ultrasound, feeling hopeful, happy, and at peace, I laid down to go to bed and diligently did my bedtime kick count. Baby boy was moving just fine, so I attempted to get myself comfortable enough to sleep. I’m not sure if I ever did fall asleep, but an hour later I felt like I might have started bleeding a little. When I got halfway to the bathroom, I quickly realized that it had somehow soaked through my pad, my underwear and my shorts before I even noticed it.

I made it to the bathroom and tried to tap on the wall to get my husband’s attention, but then I remembered that I had left him listening to something on his headphones. Feeling the panic rising and fearing that I was going to have this baby in the next 24 hours, I cleaned myself up the best I could and hobbled into the bedroom flipping on the light switch.

“We’ve gotta go now,” I said, pulling out the depends that I had stashed under the bed. While I borderline hyperventilated, my husband kept me calm. He got himself dressed and helped me do the same, gathering my half-packed hospital bag along with phone chargers and anything else we might need. We knew this would be another three-day minimum trip. 

As we got in the car, he assured me, “I’m going to get us there safely, but quickly. Just stay with me.” The roads were blessedly mostly empty (it was close to midnight) as we zoomed the few miles to the hospital. He reminded me that we already knew the bleed was there, so this was quite possibly just the blood working its way out and not necessarily a worsening of the situation. Besides, we had just felt our baby move an hour ago, and he had always been the rock through it all.

We arrived at the hospital, and after I collected the usual urine sample and donned a tattered gown, the nurse hooked me up to the fetal monitor and we heard the familiar, beautiful sound of our son’s heart beating steadily. Feeling significant relief, we settled into the usual routine of answering all the questions, having my blood drawn, and waiting to see what happened next.

We eventually got to the room where we would be staying the night until we were able to get an ultrasound and meet with the specialist the next morning. My bleeding had slowed, though I still had small gushes here and there, but I remained comforted by my son’s heart beating steadily throughout the night. I was given more steroids to help baby should they decide he needed to come soon. I was also given fluids through an IV for hydration, as I was advised against eating or drinking anything just in case they decided we needed an emergency C-section. 

It was a highly uncomfortable night. In order to go to the bathroom, I had to unplug the monitors and carry the cords around my neck, and also unplug the IV and drag that whole thing with me. It was never a simple process, and I was incredibly thankful for my dear husband’s help. Still, it caused a meltdown from me the second time we had to do it. I was so tired and uncomfortable and hungry and thirsty and still worried our little guy would need to come into the world before he was really ready.

I finally fell asleep a little before 7 am, and less than thirty minutes later is when the doctor chose to come in on his rounds. He wasn’t one we’d seen before, and though I was half-asleep and couldn’t remember his name, I liked him. He was an older doctor, and I can’t remember exactly what he said, but he made us feel a little more at ease seeming to understand our situation pretty well for someone we’d never met before.

The ultrasound later in the morning showed our boy looking even bigger than he was three days ago. His movement and vitals all looked good, the placenta still appeared to be functioning normally, and the bleed did not appear worse, even smaller if anything.

The specialist we saw was one in the practice we hadn’t met before, but we really liked her too. She cut to the chase and laid it all out there:  we will be here for monitoring for at least 72 hours from whenever my bleeding stops, and if the bleeding worsens and/or baby or I appear to be suffering from any distress, the baby will be delivered via emergency C-section. She explained that these things are unpredictable and out of our control, and that this is just the kind of situation where we have to trust and deal with whatever is necessary as it comes.

It was like she was summarizing our entire pregnancy journey, and in a way, validating it. We’ve started to feel like pregnancy for us is nothing but drama, and we’re worn out from it. But it’s just one of those things that’s wholly out of our control. We do what we can, and know with confidence that the professionals are ready to intervene when necessary, and we are thankful for that, and pray that their wisdom and skill will guide us to bringing our baby into the world in the right way at the right time.

So, here we are, settling in for another few days at the hospital of mostly waiting to see if anything happens. We are more suspicious that something else will come up this time—more bleeding or something unforeseen. We know that every day brings us closer to meeting this precious human who has stolen our hearts already. It’s still a little terrifying to think we could meet him tomorrow, or in another six weeks, but whenever it is, we continue to pray that he is healthy and safe, and we thank you for your prayers as well!