The bed was moving. It felt like I was on a air mattress at the lake. I felt warm, like the sun was hitting my skin. There was a wave rolling underneath me. First my feet would raise, then the wave would work it's way up my body, then it would slowly lift my head. Unlike a wave, this one would then move my head and work its way back down to my feet. I wasn't sure if this was a dream or real.
When the wave made it back towards my head, I knew it was real. When it moved my head up, something pulled on my neck. My reaction was to raise my shoulder. Something was attached to my neck and it felt wrong to move it. It felt like something was pulling the skin on my neck. If I was dreaming, this would NOT be part of my dream.
I heard someone by my feet. They seemed to be whispering. I opened my eyes to see N and my mom hugging in the doorway of my room. It was bright and not the same room I remember going into. The room was small and seemed to be appropriate for recovery.
I wasn't in recovery. I was in the Intensive Care Unit. I had been on a ventilator. It was Saturday morning around nine o'clock. Was Zoe okay? What happened? They filled me in on everything. N kissed me and told me our daughter was perfect and beautiful. He couldn't wait for me to meet her.
He assured me she only had two eyes. In my medically induced sleep throughout the night, I would wake up and ask, over and over, how many eyes she had. My only real pregnancy dream was that she was born with three eyes all on one side of her head. Apparently IV medication made that the only real thing I could remember.
N's parents were on their way, my mom, N's sisters and brother in law, my honorary mom and my cousin had already arrived. That's what triggered some foggy memories. I couldn't understand why my cousin was there unless I was in bad shape.
Since I was awake and off the ventilator it was time to move me to the Perinatal Special Care Unit (PSCU). They had a corner room for me, only steps from the NICU entrance where Zoe was.
Here's the thing they don't tell you, when you switch beds, ain't no one gonna move you but you. That's the moment when I realized the full extent of my ordeal. My whole pregnancy I prayed for three things: a healthy daughter, a smiley daughter and no stretch marks. Always those things. Always that order. All of my requests were answered. I realize now to pray specific. I came out with 7 scars.
I had two drains coming out my abdomen, 30-some staples down my stomach, three IV's in my arms and a special IV stitched into my neck, attached to my jugular vein. I didn't like it then and I don't like the memory of it now.
I remember very little of this day, except two things: I was put in a room in the PSCU that would be my home for almost the next 18 days.
I had yet to meet my daughter. I had heard she was beautiful. They called her small, but mighty. I tried to picture 2 pounds and 10 ounces and none of the pictures I could think of were reassuring.
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Our Miracle
I have no idea how we went from this:
to this:
Actually, I do know. God's grace allowed it. He sat beside her in the NICU when N and I couldn't. He held her in the NICU when N and I couldn't. He helped her remember to breath when she didn't. She was weak, but He is strong.
He is still all those things to her. To me. To N.
She is our miracle. Our daily reminder of God's presence in our lives. She is the beginning moment, in our string of moments.
to this:
Actually, I do know. God's grace allowed it. He sat beside her in the NICU when N and I couldn't. He held her in the NICU when N and I couldn't. He helped her remember to breath when she didn't. She was weak, but He is strong.
He is still all those things to her. To me. To N.
She is our miracle. Our daily reminder of God's presence in our lives. She is the beginning moment, in our string of moments.
The Making of Our Family - Part V and a Half
At 3:43 pm on Friday, January 26, 2007 Zoe entered our lives. It was 7.5 minutes after we discovered her heartbeat had dropped and Nurse Becky sprang to action.
It was 30 seconds after I felt like a mom.
It was 120 minutes after N began to freak out.
He paced the waiting room. He called my mother on her cell phone. She was en route to Puyallup to spend the weekend with me, unaware that her desire to spend the first bed-rest weekend with her daughter would actually be the weekend of her granddaughter's birth. God had placed on her heart the need to visit. He knew she would need to be there. For me. For N. For Zoe.
N learned that Zoe weighed 2 pounds, 10 ounces at birth and was 14.75 inches long. Her APGAR scores were that of a normal, full-term baby. Because of her prematurity, she was rushed to the NICU. All the hopes of holding her when she came into the world and celebrating with me were gone. Survival became the priority. Survival for him to get through the unknown. Survival for Zoe through prematurity. Survival for me through this medical emergency.
It would be 2 hours before he learned the problem: rapid on-set HELLP syndrome. Blood had pooled quickly in my liver, causing it to expand and rupture. While that was happening, my platelet count dropped. My body had no clotting mechanism. They didn't discover this under after my emergency c-section. They spent almost 3 hours trying to get my blood to clot and repair the damage caused by the HELLP. I had no prior warnings. Two days prior, when I was discharged from the hospital, my blood work showed everything to be normal. I had gone from normal to fatal in a mere 15 hours.
Our family came from all over to be with us. N and my mom took turns beside my bed in ICU. N took turns going between me in the ICU and his daughter in the NICU.
Her chance of survival was 25%. My chance of survival was 10%.
For the first time in our marriage, he fell to his knees before God, begging for a chance to be the family we hadn't been.
For the first time, N put God in the center of our marriage. We were broken. Completely broken. Spiritually, emotionally and physically broken. Only He could heal us.
It was 30 seconds after I felt like a mom.
It was 120 minutes after N began to freak out.
He paced the waiting room. He called my mother on her cell phone. She was en route to Puyallup to spend the weekend with me, unaware that her desire to spend the first bed-rest weekend with her daughter would actually be the weekend of her granddaughter's birth. God had placed on her heart the need to visit. He knew she would need to be there. For me. For N. For Zoe.
N learned that Zoe weighed 2 pounds, 10 ounces at birth and was 14.75 inches long. Her APGAR scores were that of a normal, full-term baby. Because of her prematurity, she was rushed to the NICU. All the hopes of holding her when she came into the world and celebrating with me were gone. Survival became the priority. Survival for him to get through the unknown. Survival for Zoe through prematurity. Survival for me through this medical emergency.
It would be 2 hours before he learned the problem: rapid on-set HELLP syndrome. Blood had pooled quickly in my liver, causing it to expand and rupture. While that was happening, my platelet count dropped. My body had no clotting mechanism. They didn't discover this under after my emergency c-section. They spent almost 3 hours trying to get my blood to clot and repair the damage caused by the HELLP. I had no prior warnings. Two days prior, when I was discharged from the hospital, my blood work showed everything to be normal. I had gone from normal to fatal in a mere 15 hours.
Our family came from all over to be with us. N and my mom took turns beside my bed in ICU. N took turns going between me in the ICU and his daughter in the NICU.
Her chance of survival was 25%. My chance of survival was 10%.
For the first time in our marriage, he fell to his knees before God, begging for a chance to be the family we hadn't been.
For the first time, N put God in the center of our marriage. We were broken. Completely broken. Spiritually, emotionally and physically broken. Only He could heal us.
The Making of Our Family - Part V
I woke up not feeling well. I knew something was wrong, but I couldn't pin point if it was the medication or my body. I knew the anxiety I was feeling didn't help. N knew something was bothering me and he was visibly worried.
At eight o'clock sharp that morning I called my doctor. It was Friday and I wanted them to see me before the weekend. I discovered that my doctor took Fridays off. I spoke to another nurse who said it sounded like I had the flu. That I just needed some rest.
Around ten o'clock I started to develop a discomfort in my right side, by the bottom of my rib cage. It wasn't terribly painful, but a constant discomfort. The same nurse told me I had the flu and I needed to stick to the BRAT (bananas, rice, applesauce and toast) diet. She assured me I would feel better.
I ate some toast and tried to lay down. The discomfort was becoming more prominent. A nap sounded good, but didn't feel good. Around noon I decided to take a shower and see if that helped me relax. By this time N was up and growing more concerned about me.
By one o'clock I was relaxed enough to feel the full pain of my right side. I knew it wasn't the flu. I knew the BRAT diet wasn't going to fix this. N called the nurse and told her we were coming in. He told me to get my shoes. For the first time in our marriage we were a team.
The 45 minute drive to the hospital was horrible. I felt like I could get sick at any moment. N was trying to determine what to do should something terrible happen.
We made it to the hospital, but I had no idea which way Labor and Delivery was. Our hospital tour was supposed to be arranged around week 35 and I hit 30 weeks that morning. A nice volunteer wheeled me to Labor and Delivery while N parked the car.
It was around 2:15 when we arrived at the hospital and the nurse had called the hospital to let them know we were coming. Apparently they also felt I had the flu because they didn't seem concerned. I could barely walk, could barely get myself on the bed and they got the monitors hooked up. They watched. No contractions and a solid heartbeat. Both were answers to prayers. The question still remained about this intense pain. The inclined bed seemed to help dull the pain as long as I didn't move.
Around three o'clock a nurse came in with a cup. She walked me down the hall to the bathroom. With each moment I was out of the bed, the pain intensified. What should've been a 3 minute walk back to the room took 15 minutes. I held onto the wall for support wondering if I'd even make it back.
N helped me get back on the bed and at 3:15 I felt it. I was going to be sick again. Bless his heart, N found a small spitoon for me. I told him that I started the BRAT diet earlier and he needed to get a nurse with something bigger.
That's when we met Becky. She was the nurse that N found. She brought a bin and an IV. She prepped my hand while I was getting sick, but was gracious enough to wait until I felt the vomiting subside. She informed me that I needed an IV so I wouldn't dehydrate. As soon as she stuck the needle in my hand I felt sweaty and foggy. I slumped back and felt light-headed. Nurse Becky quickly grabbed the monitor to find Zoe's heartbeat. Not able to get a good read, she asked me to rollover. When I tried the pain was so intense I told her she was out of her mind. She looked at me, put a hand on my shoulder and a hand on my hip and said, "I don't think you understand, you have to." With that she rolled me over. The pain was so intense I think I blacked out momentarily. The next thought was "she was right, I did just need to lay on my side." The pain was gone.
So was Zoe's heartbeats per minute. She went from 160 beats per minute to 43. Nurse Becky sprang to action. Within 15 seconds I had 6 nurses around me and Nurse Becky telling me and N, very calmly, that our baby was in danger and we had to do an emergency c-section. I had enough time to give N my glasses and get a kiss.
Before I blinked I was in an operating room, having my arms strapped down and another IV being inserted. A very nice doctor came over and introduced herself to me as Dr. Park. She would be delivering my baby. Because we hadn't signed any forms, she asked, "do you know what's happening? Do you understand what we're doing?" The last thing I remember about Zoe's birth was saying, "I understand. You do whatever it takes to save her."
That was the first moment I felt like a mom.
At eight o'clock sharp that morning I called my doctor. It was Friday and I wanted them to see me before the weekend. I discovered that my doctor took Fridays off. I spoke to another nurse who said it sounded like I had the flu. That I just needed some rest.
Around ten o'clock I started to develop a discomfort in my right side, by the bottom of my rib cage. It wasn't terribly painful, but a constant discomfort. The same nurse told me I had the flu and I needed to stick to the BRAT (bananas, rice, applesauce and toast) diet. She assured me I would feel better.
I ate some toast and tried to lay down. The discomfort was becoming more prominent. A nap sounded good, but didn't feel good. Around noon I decided to take a shower and see if that helped me relax. By this time N was up and growing more concerned about me.
By one o'clock I was relaxed enough to feel the full pain of my right side. I knew it wasn't the flu. I knew the BRAT diet wasn't going to fix this. N called the nurse and told her we were coming in. He told me to get my shoes. For the first time in our marriage we were a team.
The 45 minute drive to the hospital was horrible. I felt like I could get sick at any moment. N was trying to determine what to do should something terrible happen.
We made it to the hospital, but I had no idea which way Labor and Delivery was. Our hospital tour was supposed to be arranged around week 35 and I hit 30 weeks that morning. A nice volunteer wheeled me to Labor and Delivery while N parked the car.
It was around 2:15 when we arrived at the hospital and the nurse had called the hospital to let them know we were coming. Apparently they also felt I had the flu because they didn't seem concerned. I could barely walk, could barely get myself on the bed and they got the monitors hooked up. They watched. No contractions and a solid heartbeat. Both were answers to prayers. The question still remained about this intense pain. The inclined bed seemed to help dull the pain as long as I didn't move.
Around three o'clock a nurse came in with a cup. She walked me down the hall to the bathroom. With each moment I was out of the bed, the pain intensified. What should've been a 3 minute walk back to the room took 15 minutes. I held onto the wall for support wondering if I'd even make it back.
N helped me get back on the bed and at 3:15 I felt it. I was going to be sick again. Bless his heart, N found a small spitoon for me. I told him that I started the BRAT diet earlier and he needed to get a nurse with something bigger.
That's when we met Becky. She was the nurse that N found. She brought a bin and an IV. She prepped my hand while I was getting sick, but was gracious enough to wait until I felt the vomiting subside. She informed me that I needed an IV so I wouldn't dehydrate. As soon as she stuck the needle in my hand I felt sweaty and foggy. I slumped back and felt light-headed. Nurse Becky quickly grabbed the monitor to find Zoe's heartbeat. Not able to get a good read, she asked me to rollover. When I tried the pain was so intense I told her she was out of her mind. She looked at me, put a hand on my shoulder and a hand on my hip and said, "I don't think you understand, you have to." With that she rolled me over. The pain was so intense I think I blacked out momentarily. The next thought was "she was right, I did just need to lay on my side." The pain was gone.
So was Zoe's heartbeats per minute. She went from 160 beats per minute to 43. Nurse Becky sprang to action. Within 15 seconds I had 6 nurses around me and Nurse Becky telling me and N, very calmly, that our baby was in danger and we had to do an emergency c-section. I had enough time to give N my glasses and get a kiss.
Before I blinked I was in an operating room, having my arms strapped down and another IV being inserted. A very nice doctor came over and introduced herself to me as Dr. Park. She would be delivering my baby. Because we hadn't signed any forms, she asked, "do you know what's happening? Do you understand what we're doing?" The last thing I remember about Zoe's birth was saying, "I understand. You do whatever it takes to save her."
That was the first moment I felt like a mom.
Monday, January 25, 2010
The Making of Our Family - Part IV
I was 10 weeks, 1 day from my due date. Most likely I would be delivering early, but I only had 10 weeks of maternity leave. If I spent it all on bed rest, I would be going back to work right when Zoe arrived. Our expenses were such that I had to work. I couldn't use the FMLA, unpaid time once Zoe arrived since we lived in a house we couldn't afford. At least not without my salary.
I spent most of Thursday morning on the phone with my boss. He is a great man and the best boss I've ever had. I could go to him with anything and I know he'd listen and see what he could do. He was a mentor to me. I was fortunate that God put him in that role so he was the one I was dealing with during this time.
He was willing to work with me to see if we could get me working from home for a bit. As long as I was in bed, I could work on a laptop. My doctor said it was fine and Tom, my boss, was willing to see if Russell Investments would be willing to let me. He couldn't promise anything, but he would see what he could do. That simple offer made my anxiety lessen.
I spent most of the afternoon in bed watching my Friends DVDs and the Food Network.
Until about seven o'clock when I realized I should probably eat something. I didn't feel great all day, which I chalked up to the new medication I was on. I made some pasta, called N, who was working the night shift, and told him that I was going to bed early and I'd see him tomorrow.
I could only eat a couple bites of my pasta before I felt so full I was sick. I knew that wasn't right, but I thought in light of all the excitement of the week that I was probably just tired.
At least until midnight when I found myself in the bathroom getting sick.
I knew I wasn't tired. I knew something was terribly wrong.
I spent most of Thursday morning on the phone with my boss. He is a great man and the best boss I've ever had. I could go to him with anything and I know he'd listen and see what he could do. He was a mentor to me. I was fortunate that God put him in that role so he was the one I was dealing with during this time.
He was willing to work with me to see if we could get me working from home for a bit. As long as I was in bed, I could work on a laptop. My doctor said it was fine and Tom, my boss, was willing to see if Russell Investments would be willing to let me. He couldn't promise anything, but he would see what he could do. That simple offer made my anxiety lessen.
I spent most of the afternoon in bed watching my Friends DVDs and the Food Network.
Until about seven o'clock when I realized I should probably eat something. I didn't feel great all day, which I chalked up to the new medication I was on. I made some pasta, called N, who was working the night shift, and told him that I was going to bed early and I'd see him tomorrow.
I could only eat a couple bites of my pasta before I felt so full I was sick. I knew that wasn't right, but I thought in light of all the excitement of the week that I was probably just tired.
At least until midnight when I found myself in the bathroom getting sick.
I knew I wasn't tired. I knew something was terribly wrong.
Sunday, January 24, 2010
The Making of Our Family - Part III
I spent a fairly sleepless night on the Peri-natal Special Care Unit (PSCU) of Tacoma General Hospital. I was up most of the night with worry. Anytime I would fall asleep, I'd move in some way where they'd lose a good connection to Zoe's heart beat.
It didn't bother me that they came in to adjust the monitor. Her heartbeat was my assurance that she was okay. That we had survived one more night with her safely in my tummy.
That morning marked a changing point for my pregnancy. No longer was it measured in weeks, but in days. I was 29 weeks, 5 days pregnant that was longer than I thought I'd be when I was 29 weeks, 4 days pregnant.
My doctor came to check on me that morning. She was pleased to inform me that the contractions had stopped. It appeared that the medication was working. I could go home that afternoon. On two conditions:
1) If my blood work came back normal. Then
2) I would be on moderate bed rest. I could shower for 10 minutes a day, make myself food three times a day, etc, but I had to be in bed or laying down the rest of the time. I would also be on medication around the clock and my appointments with her would be weekly going forward.
I was willing to do whatever it took to keep Zoe inside for as long as possible. While I used to worry about stretch marks and past due discomfort, none of that mattered now. Keeping her inside was my sole job now.
N picked me up, we stopped by the pharmacy to pick up my anti-contraction medication and went home to begin my bed rest.
That's when the panic set in.
It didn't bother me that they came in to adjust the monitor. Her heartbeat was my assurance that she was okay. That we had survived one more night with her safely in my tummy.
That morning marked a changing point for my pregnancy. No longer was it measured in weeks, but in days. I was 29 weeks, 5 days pregnant that was longer than I thought I'd be when I was 29 weeks, 4 days pregnant.
My doctor came to check on me that morning. She was pleased to inform me that the contractions had stopped. It appeared that the medication was working. I could go home that afternoon. On two conditions:
1) If my blood work came back normal. Then
2) I would be on moderate bed rest. I could shower for 10 minutes a day, make myself food three times a day, etc, but I had to be in bed or laying down the rest of the time. I would also be on medication around the clock and my appointments with her would be weekly going forward.
I was willing to do whatever it took to keep Zoe inside for as long as possible. While I used to worry about stretch marks and past due discomfort, none of that mattered now. Keeping her inside was my sole job now.
N picked me up, we stopped by the pharmacy to pick up my anti-contraction medication and went home to begin my bed rest.
That's when the panic set in.
Saturday, January 23, 2010
The Making of Our Family - Part II
Tuesday, January 23rd started off like any other morning. I was 29 weeks, 4 days pregnant. Zoe was a mover. I swear the only time she was still was from five to seven each morning. I went to work, ate a grilled cheese sandwich and tomato soup for lunch and then got some things ready to be sent out to some clients. It was an uneventful work day.
I walked into the mail room to put something in the overnight bin and I felt it. I was totally confused at first thinking that I was peeing my pants. Zoe was known to love sitting on, dancing on and kicking my bladder. Sometimes all three at the same time. It made making it to the restroom sometimes difficult. I had just gone to the bathroom. There was no way I had a little bladder kick.
Then the panic set in. Was this my water breaking? From what I'd read, it certainly could be. I had another two and a half months until she was due and at least another one and a half months until she could come early. I ran to the bathroom, totally afraid.
It wasn't my water breaking either. It was blood. Too much blood.
I went back to my desk and called my doctor. She assured me that a little "spotting" was normal. I told her that "I think it's a little more than that." My boss was in a meeting, so I told my co-worker that something was wrong with the baby and I had to go to the doctor. For the first time I realized having a doctor close to work wouldn't just save me some vacation time.
I waited in the waiting room for what seemed like hours. I saw happy couples, much farther along than me go in and out. All the while I was sitting there, listening to my heart, praying to God that everything was okay. I knew they were squeezing me in, so I would have to wait. I just didn't realize the waiting would feel like eternity. Their definition of normal and my understanding of what was happening were different. I didn't want to appear over-reacting, but I knew something was grossly wrong.
When I got called back, my fears were confirmed. This wasn't normal, it wasn't "a little spotting" and they needed to check the placenta to make sure nothing had detached. I had read enough to know a detached placenta could mean death for my daughter.
Fortunately the ultrasound showed nothing out of the ordinary. My daughter was kicking and moving just like normal. Her heartbeat was a strong 160 beats per minute. Everything was normal.
Until they checked me. I was dilated to two centimeters. Complete shock came over me. How could I be contracting and NOT know it? I hadn't even had those Braxton-Hicks things they talk about. I would surely know I was contracting. Wouldn't I?
Apparently not. Zoe was a mover. She moved ALL.THE.TIME. Apparently some of those sommersaults that I thought were going to come out of my stomach were in fact contractions. Who knew!
Because I was contracting, I got to spend the first of many nights in the hospital to be monitored. They put me on medication round the clock to stop the contractions and monitored me. N came up and spent a couple hours with me, but headed home to get some sleep for work the next day. I spent the night listening to Zoe's heartbeat on the monitor and praying that God would keep her in me a little longer.
I didn't really know what any of this meant, but I did know one thing, life as we knew it would be coming to an end.
I walked into the mail room to put something in the overnight bin and I felt it. I was totally confused at first thinking that I was peeing my pants. Zoe was known to love sitting on, dancing on and kicking my bladder. Sometimes all three at the same time. It made making it to the restroom sometimes difficult. I had just gone to the bathroom. There was no way I had a little bladder kick.
Then the panic set in. Was this my water breaking? From what I'd read, it certainly could be. I had another two and a half months until she was due and at least another one and a half months until she could come early. I ran to the bathroom, totally afraid.
It wasn't my water breaking either. It was blood. Too much blood.
I went back to my desk and called my doctor. She assured me that a little "spotting" was normal. I told her that "I think it's a little more than that." My boss was in a meeting, so I told my co-worker that something was wrong with the baby and I had to go to the doctor. For the first time I realized having a doctor close to work wouldn't just save me some vacation time.
I waited in the waiting room for what seemed like hours. I saw happy couples, much farther along than me go in and out. All the while I was sitting there, listening to my heart, praying to God that everything was okay. I knew they were squeezing me in, so I would have to wait. I just didn't realize the waiting would feel like eternity. Their definition of normal and my understanding of what was happening were different. I didn't want to appear over-reacting, but I knew something was grossly wrong.
When I got called back, my fears were confirmed. This wasn't normal, it wasn't "a little spotting" and they needed to check the placenta to make sure nothing had detached. I had read enough to know a detached placenta could mean death for my daughter.
Fortunately the ultrasound showed nothing out of the ordinary. My daughter was kicking and moving just like normal. Her heartbeat was a strong 160 beats per minute. Everything was normal.
Until they checked me. I was dilated to two centimeters. Complete shock came over me. How could I be contracting and NOT know it? I hadn't even had those Braxton-Hicks things they talk about. I would surely know I was contracting. Wouldn't I?
Apparently not. Zoe was a mover. She moved ALL.THE.TIME. Apparently some of those sommersaults that I thought were going to come out of my stomach were in fact contractions. Who knew!
Because I was contracting, I got to spend the first of many nights in the hospital to be monitored. They put me on medication round the clock to stop the contractions and monitored me. N came up and spent a couple hours with me, but headed home to get some sleep for work the next day. I spent the night listening to Zoe's heartbeat on the monitor and praying that God would keep her in me a little longer.
I didn't really know what any of this meant, but I did know one thing, life as we knew it would be coming to an end.
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