When I got pregnant with Jack, I thought things would go pretty much as they had with Cole. I envisioned an uncomplicated pregnancy. And while I had no illusions about a simple labor, I figured it HAD to go more quickly than it did the first time around.
But things never happen quite the way you think.
From the beginning, the pregnancy was more difficult. The morning sickness was more intense and lasted pretty much all day. I had frequent headaches that bordered on migraines. I had myself convinced Jack was a girl because of how different the experience was.
During the few weeks before Jack was born, I noticed a lot of water retention. When I had been pregnant with Cole, my feet were always swollen, so I expected this, but it seemed like my legs were pretty bad too. My doctor recommended some support hose, but I quickly dismissed that idea. No way was I shoving myself into those things like sausage into a casing. I would be just fine, thank you very much.
Soon, there were mornings when I woke up and my face was so puffy my eyes wouldn't open all the way. I would get so tired that I would sleep from the moment I got home from work until the next morning. My vision would fade and I would see stars whenever I stood up. I started drinking 60 ounces of water a day to try and flush out the extra water. I was stumped when I didn't really seem to need to go to the bathroom, despite all the extra water. Looking back, I want to smack myself. I had chalked it all up to the uncomfortable state of being pregnant, trying to work full-time, and having a 2-year-old. I wanted so much to not be "that lady." You know, the pregnant woman who complains non-stop. I wanted to be tough.
Easter weekend came. I vividly remembering sitting at the Thomsen's for our annual Easter Dinner. Someone asked me how I was feeling, and I blurted out, "I'm DONE with being pregnant."
That Sunday, it felt like I was moving in slow motion. I bought the dreaded support hose. I bought the biggest size. They still wouldn't go on. I got them about half-way up and literally got stuck. I sat screeching for Bryce to come help me get them off.
My parents came over for dinner and brought my dad's blood pressure cuff. After we ate, I took a quick reading. 180/120. That was okay, right? My parents exchanged a look and said maybe I should try it again later that night. After everyone left, I checked again. Still the same. Bryce looked up the readings online, and saw that was really quite high. We thought something might be wrong with the cuff and decided to wait until morning.
That night I couldn't sleep. I was dizzy and light-headed even when laying down. By the time morning came and I made it to the shower, my mind kept repeating one thought, "Something is not right." We called the nurse line, and left a message. Almost immediately, a nurse called back and told me to go to Labor and Delivery right away. Instead, we got Cole up, got him fed, and got in the car to take him to school. I called work and said I would probably be in late. When we got to the hospital, I told Bryce to just drop me off, take Cole to school, and go to work. I figured they would just monitor me and it would be a waste of his time to sit around with me. But, he made a decision I am grateful to this day for. He said he would drop Cole off and be back to sit with me.
The nursing staff hooked me up to some monitors and began to watch my blood pressure. One nurse clicked her tongue and told me it looked like bed rest. I felt panic rising in my chest. Bed rest? How could that possibly fit in with my 12 weeks of maternity leave? But, I would do what I needed, and it would just have to work out. Bryce and I chatted and joked, and watched staff flit in and out of the room, checking the long white print-outs of readings. Soon, the on-call doctor arrived. The mood changed immediately. She asked me how long I had been feeling like this. When I told her that I was trying to hold out until my regular appointment that was in a couple of days, she frowned and jotted something down on her paperwork. She looked me in the eye and explained that while they would try to keep me pregnant as long as possible, that it was likely I would be heading for a c-section in the next few days. I swallowed hard, but immediately dismissed the idea. I would just be really good, and everything would be okay.
Soon, a nurse came in and inserted a catheter. (For those of you who have had one of those - how much fun is that?!) She asked me when the last time I had used the bathroom was. I told her it was when I had got up - about 5:30am. She frowned and wrote something on her paperwork. I was getting used to that.
The on-call doctor arrived again. She checked the white print-outs and told the nurses to increase the medication. She ordered the steroid shot be administered - the one that is intended to help the baby's lungs. She ordered an ultra-sound to try and determine how big our baby was. She looked me in the eye again. I was learning that this was a bad sign. She then stated that the c-section would most likely happen the next day. She also said the thing that I would hear over and over for the next week, "I cannot tell you how glad I am you came in today. Your baby is doing okay, but if you had waited until your appointment on Wednesday, you most likely would have had a stroke. Your blood pressure is just too high."
As this was all happening, I kept in contact with my Mom and Dad. As my Dad had Mondays off, he came down to be with us. Again, I was so glad.
At about 11:30am, the doctor came in with more "look-you-straight-in-the-eye" news. My kidneys were failing. My blood pressure was not going down. The baby had to come out. Now. She patted my arm and left. Bryce and I stared at each other with wide eyes. Tears began to leak out of mine. How could this be? It was so wrong! I wasn't ready! I hadn't taken any pictures! I hadn't had Cole feel his baby brother in my tummy! And my mind couldn't even begin to process what a baby born 2 months early might face.
Everything began to happen in a blur. Bryce was led away to be outfitted in scrubs. My Dad called my Mom to come down quickly. I remember them starting to wheel me away, and him saying to a nurse, "Her mom is going to be here in about 10 minutes, can we wait for her?" When the nurse said no, I knew it was bad.
The surgical room was just like I had heard it was - cold, bright white, and lots of lights. The anesthesiologist came to give me the spinal block. I joked about my butt hanging out of my gown. That's right, even in serious times, I can find reasons to make inappropriate comments. They had me lay down on the table, and then tied my arms out to my sides. As the drugs began to kick in, so did the nausea. I told the doctor I was going to throw up, but it was surprisingly hard to do being numb from the ribs down and having your arms useless. I ended up just making hilariously gross dry-heaving sounds. Bryce came, and they put the sheet up to cover the rest of my body. The doctor asked if he wanted to see the baby be born, and I warned him, in no uncertain terms, he was not to pass out if he looked. The procedure was incredible - the pushing and pulling, and then the rush of adrenaline/pukiness when they popped him out. They held our little baby up - a tiny, gray bundle, and then rushed him to the NICU. Bryce and I had agreed he would stay with the baby, so I was left alone while the doctor stitched me up. Alone with thoughts I didn't want to think. So, again, I resorted to doing what I do best - making inappropriate comments to the doctors. They were all very kind and humored me.
I spent the next 6 days in the hospital. I watched a lot of TV (the wedding of Kate and William happened while I was there and I will forever associate it with being in the hospital. So romantic!), and tried to keep calm. I was able to finally see Jack the day after I delivered. He was so very tiny, and the guilt was almost unbearable. But, I relished those visits to the NICU. It was a place of comfort for us. I knew Jack was where he needed to be.
2 comments:
You are so smart to write this down and be able to give it to Jack when he grows up. He is definitely our little miracle baby, and God was definitely watching out for you and Bryce during this time. It could have turned out so differently.
Love you all.
Well I got real emotional reading that one! You handled all the twists and turns like a trooper. Jack really is a fighter. And the sweetest ever.
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