One year ago yesterday,I fell asleep putting my then-four-year-old to bed and woke up a few hours later, still in her bed. As I moved to get up, I noticed my pants felt heavy and knew immediately that I had had another bleed (like before, the bleeding had either been one big gush or several smaller ones when I was sleeping, and I wasn't currently bleeding by the time I woke up.) I repeated the pattern I set in November and cleaned myself off, got dressed, woke my husband up to tell him I was going to the hospital because I had started to bleed again, and drove myself to Labor and Delivery. Knowing now what I do about placental abruptions, I know this was ridiculously foolish because the bleeding could have started again while I was driving, but at that point I didn't want to bother waking up my parents in the middle of the night to come to our house to stay with Annabelle and Graham, and I figured I would just wait to call them once I found out if I would be admitted again or not.
When I got to Labor and Delivery, the doctor on call decided to admit me right away so that I could see the maternal fetal medicine doctor the following day, and he would decide how to proceed. The nurses confirmed Nick had a heartbeat, and I was taken back to my room in antepartum.
Later that day, I had my appointment with our high risk doctor. Since everything that was happening seemed to be a repeat of the last time I was admitted in November, I assumed I would have the ultrasound, and then just be sent home for another round of bed rest. This time, the ultrasound must have been much worse than it was a month earlier, because I was given a 50% chance of making it to 32 weeks, and was told that at some point I would start bleeding again, and that would cause me to be hospitalized until I delivered (the doctor said it was a "matter of when, not if," I would face long term hospitalization in 2018.) My doctor explained that, at 21 weeks gestation, there was nothing he could do to help Nick or I, because Nick was not yet viable. In order to give me the best shot of staying pregnant another two weeks, I would need to go on bed rest until I delivered, and then in two weeks, I would come back to the hospital to receive my first round of steroid injections to help speed up Nick's lung development.
I definitely didn't grasp the seriousness of everything the doctor was saying during the appointment. Looking back on it, I can see that he was more or less guaranteeing Nick would be born prematurely, but at the time I didn't know that "see if we can get you to 23 weeks" meant "we'll see if Nick will survive or not." I remember him telling us "there are worse things than losing a child," meaning IF I made it another two weeks, Nick had a high chance of being born disabled or seriously sick. But, I was clueless about the significance of 23 weeks then and was stuck on the fact that I wouldn't be able to teach anymore, so the seriousness of the situation went over my head. It seemed strange at the time that he said it was okay for me to go home after the appointment, but I think that's because there was nothing he or any of the other doctors could do to save Nick if I went into labor. So, I was discharged later that day, and I remember calling my principal on the way home from the hospital to repeat everything my doctor had said, and she agreed that teaching was no longer a safe option for me. I remember feeling sad and deflated about having to leave my students more than the prognosis I had just been given.
A few hours later, I started to bleed again. I was more irritated than anything at this point, and drove back to the hospital. The doctor on call did a cervical exam to confirm I hadn't started to dilate, then basically shrugged and said it was more bleeding and there was nothing she could do, so I headed back home.
I fell asleep on the couch, and bled heavily and consistently throughout the night. When I woke around 6:00 the next morning, I discovered the heating pad I had fallen asleep on on my back was completely soaked in blood. As I climbed the stairs to get to my bedroom, I felt a huge WOOSH of blood and pressure. When I pulled down my pants to change, a blood clot the size of my fist fell out and onto the ground. I remember just staring at it and thinking, "holy shit, what the hell is that?" I didn't know if I should put it in a bag and take it back to the hospital with me so I could show the nurses just how big it was, but I thought that might be weird, so I took a picture of it instead (I was worried they wouldn't believe me or grasp how big it was, so I wanted proof.) I finished my lesson plans for the day (which, again, is insane given I had just passed a monster clot less than 24 hours after I got done hearing from a doctor how risky the future of my pregnancy was,)and headed back to the hospital. I showed the nurse who admitted me a picture of the clot, and was admitted again.
I spent the rest of the week on antepartum. I was told I would need to go at least 24 hours without any bleeding before I could get discharged, but I kept bleeding every night. The on call OB would touch base with me every morning during rounds, but I didn't have any further appointments or ultrasounds, and was basically there until the bleeding stopped. I had sleeves put around my legs that constricted and released every few minutes to prevent blood clots, but otherwise I was left alone. During the week, I found out that, since it was my first year teaching in the school district and I was working at a private school, I didn't qualify for FMLA (long term disability leave,) so I would have to completely leave my job instead of just going on extended leave. That also meant I would loose my paycheck, which wasn't a big deal for us, but was a blow to my self esteem. My biggest fear was that I would be stuck in the hospital over Christmas and wouldn't be home to spend it with my family, but I had worked out a deal with one of the doctors that if I was still there over Christmas, I could basically get a 24 hour pass to go home for the day. That made things a little bit better, so I spent the rest of the week doing online Christmas shopping and watching Christmas movies.
When I saw my high risk doctor again the day before Nick was born, he told us that he had expected me to deliver Nick this week. It's a miracle that Nick survived. The fact that I bled for six days and passed a giant clot but still managed to stay pregnant, and stay pregnant for another nine weeks at that, is a miracle. I have been dreading this week for awhile, and I thought it would be really emotional to relive all of these memories, but instead it just makes me so grateful for the doctors and nurses who cared for us that week, even if they were basically holding their breath too. I don't take his life or his health for granted for a second, especially on weeks like this.
