I had a very normal routine OB appointment in Maple Grove. I drove myself. I know I haven't been feeling well, but I have been trying my best to ignore it; trying my best to get as far along as possible in my pregnancy for Elijah. My blood pressure was'ok' but not perfect. It wasn't considered in the dangerous zone yet, just as it has been for a few months now. The doctor seemed concerned however due to 4+ protein in my urine sample that was given minutes prior to talking with him. I asked "so it is a 4, on a scale of what? 10?" He said "on a scale of 4". That hit me like a brick wall. I thought I was doing good.
He told me I need to be admitted to Abbott Northwestern in Minneapolis for a 24-hour urine collection testing. I was not allowed to drive or leave the clinic; I had to wait for my husband to come pick me up.
When we got to Abbott, one of our worst fears came true. The 'doctor' that bullied us into a decision to terminate our pregnancy earlier on, the one who roadblocked us and said "no" to all of our requests for second opinions and ultrasounds, was the only doctor working the floor that day. We said absolutely not, we will walk out and go home right now. It took two hours for the nursing staff and care coordinators to come up with a different game plan. We are very pleased that they were able to work with us on this. They didn't seem to mind; actually they seemed to understand all too well.
We were set up in Station 65 of the Birth Center. This station handles high risk and premature pregnancies. Throughout our entire stay, we got to know just how sad Station 65 really is. We weren't the only family crying for our beloved baby each day.
I was hooked up to an IV right away. It took the nurse two times and failing to get my IV in. She eventually called the anesthetic people to come to it themselves. It was even difficult for them, but third time is a charm I guess. I was also given magnesium through the IV. The magnesium was a preventative measure to ward off any seizures and possible strokes, a common risk that comes with preclampsia. My blood pressure was being taken every hour. So far, it was still considered in the safe zone.
Saturday - May 29th
I woke up in an immense amount of pain. I was grabbing at my chest in hopes to pull off whatever it was that was trying to kill me. Only thing is there was nothing there. It felt like an elephant was sitting on my chest, a hand had my heart in its palm squeezing it, and two more hands were wrapped around my neck, squeezing and choking me. I felt like I couldn't breathe. With every sycronized squeeze from the three hands and lazy elephant, I would feel the pressure rise to my head, almost like my eyes, ears, and temples were going to explode. The pain also would shoot down my left arm. My left arm felt like it was on fire, but the IV sight seemed to look fine.
They shut off the magnesium and said sometimes that can make people feel sick. A few hours later, I only felt worse. I couldn't take it anymore. They re-checked my IV and still agreed it looked fine. They tested the sight anyways to see if the catheter had become infiltrated. It was. They took the IV out and hours later I started to feel better.
A few hours before the 24-hour urine collection testing was finished, the doctor had come in to explain that I have been diagnosed with mild preclampsia and there was no positive outlook for me going home until Elijah is delivered. My husband and I had a very difficult decision to make: induce now or wait until I get more sick and then induce then. Either way, an induction was going to happen. The sicker I get, the sicker Elijah gets and may not be born alive. The sicker I get, the less better ability and outcome for me to handle delivery as well. We chose induction that night; induction to save my life, and give Elijah a few seconds of life.
Cervadil, a hormonal medication was applied to my cervix to jump start the thinning and dilation process. I felt numb; numb in my body and numb in my heart. I prayed that having to go through all of this, to at least God grant Elijah a few seconds of life, and grant me at least one look from him in my eyes. I wanted my baby boy to see his mommy.
Sunday was kind of an off day. Not a lot of action, but still a lot of pain. The doctor wanted to do another dose of Ceravdil, but also informed me that the "doctor" we don't like was the doctor on the floor for the rest of the day and into tomorrow. If I were to be given another dose of Cervadil, it is possible I could go into labor and deliver that day. My husband and I felt very strongly against working with this "doctor". So we were given the option to wait it out, and the Cervadil will be given late that night, and pitocin started in the morning.
We did just that...
Monday - May 31st
When I woke up, I was in a lot of pain. It felt as if a giant truck had hit me, then backed up, and hit me again. The throbbing pain all over just would not stop. Medications were given to help ease the pain. It never helped take away the pain except to help me close my eyes for an hour or two and try my best to ignore it.
Pitocin was started. I was already contracting on my own without it, but this was to help speed things up; and it did. I was given an epidural, and soon after that the doctor broke my water. There was a lot of fluid, which is common for triploidy pregnancies I guess. It just kept coming. I don't remember that much fluid with Paighton. When it was all done, I looked at my tummy. It looked as if I wasn't even pregnant, there was barely a bump.
They quickly moved me to the OR room. This was done for safety and preventive measures. The OR room has everything I and Elijah may need. My husband and I had asked the parents of Sustaining Grace to video and photograph the birth for us. I am so appreciative that they did.
He was so beautiful, and didn't even whimper one cry. I saw his chest move and I knew he was alive and breathing. He was only able to open one eye; the left one. I cried so much, I was happy to see him and even more happy that he could see me. God heard my prayer for sight.
My husband got to baptize his own son,, he even cut Elijah's umbilical cord; and then the hospital's Chaplin came in and did a Naming Ceremony for us.
The nurse on my right, I ended up punching. It didn't even phase her, she just kept going. I tried to get her to stop pounding on me, I hooked my right arm into the fold of her left arm and was trying to pull her off of me. Still, nothing, she didn't flinch.
At that time, I felt very woozy, like I wanted to sleep. I had major tremors all over my body and started to shake the table. I couldn't control anything. That is when the doctor reached in and ripped the placenta out of my body. That moment was the worst of them all.
The doctor said that she needed to do a D&C to stop my bleeding. I wasn't sure of what that all consists of, but how I understand it is that they would use a tool to scrape out remaining pieces of the placenta that was still in my uterus. I was told it would take about 15-20 minutes. I looked at Elijah, and told him how much Mommy loves him. I asked him to hold on, that Mommy will be right back very soon, I wasn't ready to say goodbye yet. I agreed and told my husband to hurry, take him to our families so that they may see him alive.
He and Elijah left. I remember still screaming, asking to be knocked out. I couldn't take the pain anymore. I was knocked out. The last thing I saw was my doctor standing next to me, covered in blood from arms to feet. The floor was a pool of blood.
Tuesday - June 1st
When I woke up, I could hear a lot of commotion. I could see very little, my vision was blurry but I could make out my husband and my mom standing next to me. I asked where I was; I was in the ICU. I didn't understand why. I asked what time it was. It was midnight. Again, I had a hard time understanding, but I knew something didn't add up. Elijah was born at 5:14 P.M., I handed him off to Daddy a few minutes before 6 P.M. I was sure I would have been back by 7 P.M. at the very latest. I wasn't.
I then asked about Elijah, where was he? Is he alive? No. He had past, at 7:37 P.M. He lived a little over two hours. I was devastated. I wanted to see him more, I wanted to say goodbye and be the one holding him when he left this Earth to go to Heaven. I was also so very proud of him. He did what his Mommy had asked of him; hang in there, be strong because I will be back very soon. I am proud of my baby Elijah for fighting for more time for his mommy. I am disappointed in myself that I didn't hold up my part of the bargain. I didn't come back soon; it was later... much later.
No one would give me a straight answer as to what happened. They just said, the doctor will talk to you later. My entire body was numb, yet I felt so much pain. My mind was there and coherent but I could not control my body. My body had some kind of tick, where every few minutes I could feel a tightening from my neck to my legs. My legs would raise themselves up off the table and I would let out some kind of moan during each "tick" episode. I could hear the doctors scold my husband, "don't let her move her legs, especially the right one". He was trying his best, and so was I. I couldn't help it, I had no control. My husband held my legs down for me. The more and more my legs would try to lift up, the more the doctors would strain importance of the issue. I was confused why I wasn't allowed to move my legs, especially the right one.
Then I heard a doctor say "well, I'm going to go talk to the family". The more I laid there on the table and the more I asked questions and never received answers, even from my own husband and mother, the more I got upset. I started to get furious actually.
I started making demands. I yelled out, "why cant I move my legs?" and "tell the family what? How about telling ME what happened, what about me, tell ME?" and "what the hell is going on?". Still, no answers. I saw my mother and husband give each other strange looks, like they wanted to but didn't want to tell me.
The doctors must have given me something in my IV drip because I remember falling asleep and waking up in a different room and seeing my husband next to me. I was calm, much calmer than before. I asked, again, what happened. My husband said he almost lost me. Lost me? I didn't understand. He didn't collaborate a whole lot on things. Later, my mother came to talk to me. I asked her too what happened. She just said I gave everyone a scare.
Finally, the doctor came in later in the day. I asked her what happened. She told me everything. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. My heart sank. I thought of my husband and my little boy Paighton the whole time as I strained to pay attention. From what I remember of our conversation that day in the ICU, was this...
When the doctor had ripped out my placenta, I bled profusely. She couldn't get it under control. She did the D&C which should have stopped the bleeding, but it didn't. My placenta had grown into the wall of my uterus. Usually the only fix for these type of complications is a hysterectomy, from what I understand anyways, I could be wrong. While I was under, she came out to talk to my husband. She gave him three choices. Choice #1 - do nothing. Which obviously isn't an option because the result was I would die. Choice #2 - do a hysterectomy. Result, we would never be able to have more children. Choice #3 - do a procedure called 'uterine artery embolization'. Result, I may or may not be able to keep my uterus, so a hysterectomy was still possible and chances of having more children drop. At least there was still a chance. My husband told the doctor to do the third option, save my uterus, but if it wasn't saving my life, then just do whatever she needs to do to same my life. I was in surgery for 4 hours.
Uterine Artery Embolization is a procedure done under an X-ray machine. They have to go through a main artery located in the groin area of the right leg. They use a dye to follow the main artery blood flow to the uterus. The dye guides them to the spots where blood is still coming from. Then they flush particles that follow the blood and dye to the uterus. The particles then get 'stuck' in the spots where blood is leaking from. It creates a 'plug', and permanent clot. This permanent plug is what causes infertility. At least there is still a chance, some chance is better than none. That is why I wasn't supposed to move my leg. Now I understand.
We were told that they were the only hospital in the state that performs this type of procedure. Had I delivered here in St. Cloud, I would have died. My husband told me how grateful he is of all the staff at Abbott, and our decision to deliver at Abbott instead of St. Cloud; it was a given option to us a few times throughout our pregnancy.
The doctor also told me I was given about four and a half units of blood. I lost a lot. She said for someone my size, six units is the average for total blood count. I lost over half my own blood. It wasn't even my blood anymore that was running through my body.
I am so happy for my husband, in making the decision to attempt in saving my uterus, but more focused on my life. Save my life. I owe everything to him. I couldn't even begin to imagine what he would have done in losing not only our sweet baby Elijah, but me as well on the same day. I cry everyday thinking about how that would have effected him and our son Paighton. I am so grateful to God for giving me a second chance at life. Thank you Lord.
My husband told me that he would have understood though if I had gone to Heaven with Elijah. He would understand that our son needed me with him in Heaven. I had to disagree with him. I wouldn't been as strong as him to understand something like that. I know our baby boy is safe and without pain in Heaven now. My husband and other son need me here, on Earth for as long as possible; and I need them. Oh, do I ever need them more than ever before.
Later in the day, I was able to go back to the Birth Center instead of having to stay in the ICU. I was also able to have pictures done with Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep; the photographer came back for me since I wasn't able to do them while Elijah was alive. I was so happy for that. When Elijah was brought to my room, he had come from the morgue. He was cold, and stiff. He was still beautiful, just as I remembered. I wanted to stay with him forever, but I could only take so much. The more I stared at him, the more I swore I could actually see changing expressions in his face. He would smile when daddy made mommy laugh; he would pout his lipswhen mommy and daddy began to cry. I wanted to believe so badly that he was still alive. I wanted him to wake up, open his eyes and look at his mommy just once more. Just once. He never did.
Thursday - June 3rd
I was discharged from the hospital on this day. I felt empty as I was wheeled out in a chair, no baby in my arms and no baby within my belly. Emptiness. A feeling I would never wish on anyone. I feel less than a woman, less than a mother. I feel like I am stuck in a body that isn't mine and for some reason I am to carry all the pain.
I miss my sweet Elijah so much. On Friday, June 11th, we are holding the funeral service for him. I never imagined I would have to say goodbye to any child of mine so soon. Why us? Why me? I may never know, but one thing I do know is that Elijah is mine. He belongs to my husband and I. We will forever carry him in our hearts.
Thank you Lord for giving my sweet son a chance at life and allowing our families to meet him. Thank you Lord for giving me a second chance at life. For allowing me to live with a new and different perspective. Thank you for allowing my husband and our son Paighton more time with me. I wasn't ready to come home....
