My little preemie turned 15 months old this past Wednesday, so considering I have only written one other blog post in 2019, I think it's time I give a Nick update.
At 13 months adjusted, Nick can only walk 3-5 steps at a time, and can't stand up independently (without holding on to something, like a chair) and only babbles "ba ba" (no words yet.)
After a loooong winter and spring in which we basically moved into our pediatrician's office, Nick had tubes put in his ears last Friday. Nick had so many ear infections since Christmas that he was placed on Amoxicillin indefinitely until his ENT consult, in which the doctor described his ear drum as being "as stiff as a board" and explained that there was so much fluid in his ear that Nick was essentially hearing like he was under water. He explained that kids learn to communicate by imitating what they hear. So, if Nick was only hearing muffled sounds, it makes sense that he wouldn't be able to say words or babble much. The doctor also asked how Nick walks, and I explained that he could take between 3-5 steps, but then seems to lose his balance and falls over. The doctor explained that this could also be explained away by fluid build up in his ear, which could possibly be throwing off his inner ear balance. So, we went into the procedure hoping that the tubes would be a magic cure all to Nick's possible developmental delays, and he would immediately start talking, walking, and feeling better. 8 days later and the tubes haven't made a difference (yet.)
I know Nick is only 13 months adjusted, so it isn't fair to compare him to his fellow February 2018 babies, or to other one year olds who weren't, say, separated from their families for the first two months of their life. I have had so many preemie moms tell me their NICU grads were delayed but eventually caught up to their peers, as well as other mom friends who had full term babies who went on to experience some type of delay that required physical therapy or some other type of intervention. So, I know it isn't abnormal for a former 30 weeker to lag a bit behind his peers, and I know all babies develop on their own schedules and I don't do Nick any favors by obsessing over why he doesn't do things like point to toys he wants or react when I call his name.
But still.
The thing I always circle back to when I worry about Nick is how little is known about placental abruptions, and how no one can explain why it happened to us. Nick was evaluated for brain damage after he was born and obviously nothing major was detected, but the placenta-which controls oxygen flow-started detaching at 11 weeks, and detached again at 17, 21, 29, and 30 weeks. Another way of saying that would be that Nick's supply of nutrients and oxygen wasn't fully functioning since he was 11 week old fetus, and for 19 weeks-from the 11th week of pregnancy until he was delivered at 30 weeks-his oxygen flow was in one way or another disrupted. I'm sure major damage would have been detected in one of the gazillion ultrasounds we had, but what if it wasn't something major? What if the drasn't fast enough during my C-section and didn't deliver him in time to be totally in the clear? What we do know for sure is that Nick didn't have a normal birth experience. He wasn't immediately placed into my arms after birth, he didn't spend the first hours of his life cuddled next to his mother, and for the majority of the first 53 days of his life, he was all alone in intensive care. There is so much literature on how important immediate skin to skin contact and touch is on newborns immediately after birth-how could babies who are separated for weeks from there families and who are instead exposed to bright lights and medical testing and loud beeping NOT grow up to be different?
this month when I was picking Nick up from daycare, his teacher handed me hispacifier and commented on how the other kids (he's the only one in his class not walking) would walk by and take it out of his mouth, and he wouldn't be able to get it back from them. Also, this week when I was dropping him off, his fellow 12-24 month olds were sitting in a circle and pointing to their nose, ear, etc, on command. Nick doesn't point, wave, play with toys, imitate me, play games, or shake his head-all things he should be doing by 13 months. He definitely knowsI'm mama, recognizes his family and is so darn sweet, but when it comes to communicating, he seems miles behind his peers. And all of this is exactly why I'm so passionate/crazy about prematurity. Because what if something happened to Nick during my pregnancy, during his delivery, or while he was in the NICU that is going to stay with him forever? What if he won't be able to just "catch up" like everyone says he eventually will? Nick has already been the NICU baby who slept by himself every night in the hospital, and now he's the runt of his daycare class who gets his toys taken away from him by bigger kids.
Saturday, May 18, 2019
Tuesday, March 5, 2019
Pregnancies After the NICU
Nick is almost 13 months old already, he has eight teeth, he loves to feed himself finger foods, and is so close to taking his first steps. Over the weekend, I packed away his nine and 12 month outfits to pass down to my nephew, as Nick's pudgy thighs and belly are almost ready for 18 month clothing. I know the baby stage is coming to a close for us…which makes me want to do it all over again.
While I was on bed rest, I vowed I would never be pregnant again. I even told my husband that at some point, I would start begging him for another baby and he would have to resist, because I could never go through another pregnancy like I had with Nick. At my yearly appointment, when I asked the NP hypothetically what another pregnancy would look like, she said that because of everything that happened with Nick, even if I had a totally routine pregnancy, it would still be considered high risk. She cautioned me that before we did anything, I should have a consult with maternal fetal medicine to discuss the likelihood of having another abruption, and the pregnancy would likely be closely monitored and require extra ultrasounds, extra appointments, etc. I remember how sick I was from the beginning with Nick, how I threw up almost daily and was exhausted trying to balance Annabelle and Graham, my job, and my pregnancy. But still.
I'm not stupid. I know I'm so lucky to have three healthy children, and I'm exceptionally fortunate that Nick is alive and thriving. I know our complications were out of the blue and rare, but I know that my history gives me a higher risk for having a repeat abruption. But still.
The thing that would bother me the most if Nick were to remain our youngest is that my pregnancies had to end with an emergency c-section and the NICU. As fortunate as I was to experience a "normal" birth twice before Nick came along, I missed out on so much with him. In addition to the trauma of an emergency c-section and the devastation of having to leave Nick three days later and spend the following 50 days apart, I missed out on so many little things that I enjoyed with his siblings and looked forward to when I learned I was pregnant with Nick. All the small things new moms are so fortunate to experience-having their baby sleep in the same room with them on the first night of their life, getting to introduce the baby to his siblings within hours of their delivery, hanging out as a family in the postpartum room-are all part of what makes the NICU such a loss.
After having a high risk pregnancy, it amazes me that anyone can get pregnant, carry a baby to term, and have a drama free delivery. I feel so jealous when I see pregnant women who are clearly close to term and are still up and moving, and it frustrates me in hindsight that my body couldn't do that with Nick. I know we will likely never have another biological baby, but I still wish my childbirth experiences could have ended on a happier note.
While I was on bed rest, I vowed I would never be pregnant again. I even told my husband that at some point, I would start begging him for another baby and he would have to resist, because I could never go through another pregnancy like I had with Nick. At my yearly appointment, when I asked the NP hypothetically what another pregnancy would look like, she said that because of everything that happened with Nick, even if I had a totally routine pregnancy, it would still be considered high risk. She cautioned me that before we did anything, I should have a consult with maternal fetal medicine to discuss the likelihood of having another abruption, and the pregnancy would likely be closely monitored and require extra ultrasounds, extra appointments, etc. I remember how sick I was from the beginning with Nick, how I threw up almost daily and was exhausted trying to balance Annabelle and Graham, my job, and my pregnancy. But still.
I'm not stupid. I know I'm so lucky to have three healthy children, and I'm exceptionally fortunate that Nick is alive and thriving. I know our complications were out of the blue and rare, but I know that my history gives me a higher risk for having a repeat abruption. But still.
The thing that would bother me the most if Nick were to remain our youngest is that my pregnancies had to end with an emergency c-section and the NICU. As fortunate as I was to experience a "normal" birth twice before Nick came along, I missed out on so much with him. In addition to the trauma of an emergency c-section and the devastation of having to leave Nick three days later and spend the following 50 days apart, I missed out on so many little things that I enjoyed with his siblings and looked forward to when I learned I was pregnant with Nick. All the small things new moms are so fortunate to experience-having their baby sleep in the same room with them on the first night of their life, getting to introduce the baby to his siblings within hours of their delivery, hanging out as a family in the postpartum room-are all part of what makes the NICU such a loss.
After having a high risk pregnancy, it amazes me that anyone can get pregnant, carry a baby to term, and have a drama free delivery. I feel so jealous when I see pregnant women who are clearly close to term and are still up and moving, and it frustrates me in hindsight that my body couldn't do that with Nick. I know we will likely never have another biological baby, but I still wish my childbirth experiences could have ended on a happier note.
Wednesday, December 12, 2018
One Year Later
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.
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.
Thursday, November 15, 2018
Bleeds Two and Three
One year ago, on Saturday, November 11th, I spent the day running errands and cleaning my house: my older son, Graham, was scheduled to be baptized the following day (which turned out to be good luck, because my in-laws were staying at our home and were able to watch our kids while Cory and I went to the hospital.) I fell asleep early that night, and woke up a few hours later to discover that I had bled through my pajama pants and onto the sheets (like the first time, it had been either one big gush or a series of small gushes that happened while I was sleeping, instead of a continuous flow.) I woke Cory up, told my in-laws what was going on, and drove to the ER in the middle of the night. This time, because I was 17 weeks pregnant and in the second trimester, and aid came with a wheel chair and took my over to the labor and delivery wing of the hospital instead of staying in the ER.
Once I got to labor and delivery, I changed out of my clothes and into a hospital gown, and the nurse checked to confirm that Nick's heart was beating. After they determined that Nick didn't appear to be in any distress, the doctor ordered an ultrasound to assess the cause of the bleeding. After awhile, an ultrasound tech performed the ultrasound, and I remember asking her if she could tell us the sex of the baby. At this point, I was assuming the night would go like my first trip to the ER: I would have a quick ultrasound,which would show that Nick was fine and it had been another random bout of bleeding, and I would be sent home in time for Graham's baptism. When the doctor came into our room to share the results of the ultrasound, she told us that I had experienced something called a placental abruption, which meant part of my placenta had started detaching from my uterus. Even though it didn't appear to be affecting Nick, I remember the doctor saying that we would do "whatever we could to make it to 23 weeks," and that she would go ahead and admit me until I was able to see the maternal-fetal medicine (high risk pregnancy) doctor on Monday.
I think I would have been more stunned if I was able to process any of what the doctor told me. I had never heard of a placental abruption, and, since I knew nothing about prematurity at that point, I didn't understand what the doctor meant by saying we would try to make it to 23 weeks. More than anything, I was upset that we would have to postpone Nick's baptism after I had ordered a cake and invited our relatives (see all my previous posts about not processing this whole experience while it was happening.)
I spent the rest of Sunday in the hospital, and, on Monday, had my first appointment with the high risk doctor. As my pregnancy continued to get more serious, these appointments became a major source of anxiety for me, especially because the ultrasounds took so long (they lasted around 45 minutes, which always convinced me they had found something terrible.) At this point, though, I didn't grasp what was happening, and was actually excited for this appointment because I knew they would be able to determine the sex. We found out we were expecting a boy (which I sensed all along,) and the doctor cleared me to be discharged. The ultrasound did show that I had a partial placental abruption, and that my subchorionic hematoma had gotten worse, which had caused an "enormous" blood clot, which was likely the source of the bleeding. But, since I hadn't had any other bleeding episodes in over 24 hours and Nick appeared healthy, I was cleared to go home and spend the rest of the week on bed rest.
For the next three days, I got my first taste of bed rest. I spent at least 1/3 of the time googling placental abruptions and subchorionic hematomas, watching Christmas movies, and catching up on lesson plans and grading. Because I was still hoping to return to school the following week, I had plenty to keep me busy, and this round of bed rest was tolerable.
On Thursday morning, I was feeling achy and sore, and had mild cramping and pain in my uterus. I called my OB, who instructed me to come to the office for an ultrasound and to make sure I hadn't started dilating. The ultrasound came back normal, and the nurse practitioner I saw explained that sometimes blood can irritate the uterus and cause cramping, but everything else was fine.
The following afternoon, on Friday the 17th, I was making spaghetti sauce (which might have been violating my bed rest rules, but it's difficult to totally do nothing when you have kids to feed!) when I suddenly had an intense, horrible pain in my lower left side, near where my ovaries are. It came out of nowhere, and had me doubled over in pain. I took Tylenol and tried a heating pad, but I couldn't shake the pain, so we called my mom to watch our kids so we could go to the hospital. I threw up from the pain as we went to get in the car, was sweating and shaking, and started to bleed again on the way to the hospital. By the time we reached labor and delivery, I was a physical mess and convinced I was in labor. Once again, I changed into a hospital gown, and the doctor was called right away. He preformed the ultrasound himself, but determined that there was nothing seriously wrong, and, like always, Nick was totally fine. This time, I was shocked Nick was okay. I was so sure the pain I was experiencing was contractions, and, at 17 weeks, Nick was weeks away from being able to survive had I gone into labor. I threw up again from the pain, but was given a pain killer and admitted for monitoring overnight. Thankfully, the pain never returned until three days before Nick was born, and I was released the following day to spend another week on strict bed rest (the nurse told me I needed to be "as lazy as a man on Thanksgiving.")
I spent the week of Thanksgiving home from work on bed rest again, which was bad timing because we were hosting my husband's side, so Cory literally cleaned our house, did 100% of the parenting, and cooked a Thanksgiving meal for our extended family himself. The Saturday after Thanksgiving, I passed a decent amount of dark brown blood, which I was told wasn't a terrible sign, because it wasn't "new" blood. I went to labor and delivery anyways, had another exam to check for dilation, and the doctor agreed that it was just old blood passing through and nothing to worry about, so I went home as soon as my exam was completed.
I went back to work the Monday after Thanksgiving, and, aside from having light spotting every day, things were normal for the next two weeks, until the second Scariest Week of My Life happened in December. In the weeks to come, I would worry that the pain I felt that Friday would return, but, probably because my doctors were still optimistic that things would work out okay, I didn't dwell on what was happening much. I had lessons to plan, presents to buy, and Christmas traditions to carry out, and, since the baby we had now named Nicholas seemed to be totally fine, I assumed everything would work out okay in the end.
Once I got to labor and delivery, I changed out of my clothes and into a hospital gown, and the nurse checked to confirm that Nick's heart was beating. After they determined that Nick didn't appear to be in any distress, the doctor ordered an ultrasound to assess the cause of the bleeding. After awhile, an ultrasound tech performed the ultrasound, and I remember asking her if she could tell us the sex of the baby. At this point, I was assuming the night would go like my first trip to the ER: I would have a quick ultrasound,which would show that Nick was fine and it had been another random bout of bleeding, and I would be sent home in time for Graham's baptism. When the doctor came into our room to share the results of the ultrasound, she told us that I had experienced something called a placental abruption, which meant part of my placenta had started detaching from my uterus. Even though it didn't appear to be affecting Nick, I remember the doctor saying that we would do "whatever we could to make it to 23 weeks," and that she would go ahead and admit me until I was able to see the maternal-fetal medicine (high risk pregnancy) doctor on Monday.
I think I would have been more stunned if I was able to process any of what the doctor told me. I had never heard of a placental abruption, and, since I knew nothing about prematurity at that point, I didn't understand what the doctor meant by saying we would try to make it to 23 weeks. More than anything, I was upset that we would have to postpone Nick's baptism after I had ordered a cake and invited our relatives (see all my previous posts about not processing this whole experience while it was happening.)
I spent the rest of Sunday in the hospital, and, on Monday, had my first appointment with the high risk doctor. As my pregnancy continued to get more serious, these appointments became a major source of anxiety for me, especially because the ultrasounds took so long (they lasted around 45 minutes, which always convinced me they had found something terrible.) At this point, though, I didn't grasp what was happening, and was actually excited for this appointment because I knew they would be able to determine the sex. We found out we were expecting a boy (which I sensed all along,) and the doctor cleared me to be discharged. The ultrasound did show that I had a partial placental abruption, and that my subchorionic hematoma had gotten worse, which had caused an "enormous" blood clot, which was likely the source of the bleeding. But, since I hadn't had any other bleeding episodes in over 24 hours and Nick appeared healthy, I was cleared to go home and spend the rest of the week on bed rest.
For the next three days, I got my first taste of bed rest. I spent at least 1/3 of the time googling placental abruptions and subchorionic hematomas, watching Christmas movies, and catching up on lesson plans and grading. Because I was still hoping to return to school the following week, I had plenty to keep me busy, and this round of bed rest was tolerable.
On Thursday morning, I was feeling achy and sore, and had mild cramping and pain in my uterus. I called my OB, who instructed me to come to the office for an ultrasound and to make sure I hadn't started dilating. The ultrasound came back normal, and the nurse practitioner I saw explained that sometimes blood can irritate the uterus and cause cramping, but everything else was fine.
The following afternoon, on Friday the 17th, I was making spaghetti sauce (which might have been violating my bed rest rules, but it's difficult to totally do nothing when you have kids to feed!) when I suddenly had an intense, horrible pain in my lower left side, near where my ovaries are. It came out of nowhere, and had me doubled over in pain. I took Tylenol and tried a heating pad, but I couldn't shake the pain, so we called my mom to watch our kids so we could go to the hospital. I threw up from the pain as we went to get in the car, was sweating and shaking, and started to bleed again on the way to the hospital. By the time we reached labor and delivery, I was a physical mess and convinced I was in labor. Once again, I changed into a hospital gown, and the doctor was called right away. He preformed the ultrasound himself, but determined that there was nothing seriously wrong, and, like always, Nick was totally fine. This time, I was shocked Nick was okay. I was so sure the pain I was experiencing was contractions, and, at 17 weeks, Nick was weeks away from being able to survive had I gone into labor. I threw up again from the pain, but was given a pain killer and admitted for monitoring overnight. Thankfully, the pain never returned until three days before Nick was born, and I was released the following day to spend another week on strict bed rest (the nurse told me I needed to be "as lazy as a man on Thanksgiving.")
I spent the week of Thanksgiving home from work on bed rest again, which was bad timing because we were hosting my husband's side, so Cory literally cleaned our house, did 100% of the parenting, and cooked a Thanksgiving meal for our extended family himself. The Saturday after Thanksgiving, I passed a decent amount of dark brown blood, which I was told wasn't a terrible sign, because it wasn't "new" blood. I went to labor and delivery anyways, had another exam to check for dilation, and the doctor agreed that it was just old blood passing through and nothing to worry about, so I went home as soon as my exam was completed.
I went back to work the Monday after Thanksgiving, and, aside from having light spotting every day, things were normal for the next two weeks, until the second Scariest Week of My Life happened in December. In the weeks to come, I would worry that the pain I felt that Friday would return, but, probably because my doctors were still optimistic that things would work out okay, I didn't dwell on what was happening much. I had lessons to plan, presents to buy, and Christmas traditions to carry out, and, since the baby we had now named Nicholas seemed to be totally fine, I assumed everything would work out okay in the end.
Sunday, October 14, 2018
Eight Month Update!
It has been awhile since I did a monthly update for Nick, so here is a quick summary of how my little guy is doing at eight months old (six months adjusted), along with an update on some advocacy work I've been doing:
Weight:
At the doctor this week, Nick weighed just over 19 pounds. Between his chubby cheeks and all the rolls in his thighs, he reminds me a lot of the Michelin man these days :) He wears size three diapers and 9 month clothing.
Eating:
As hard as it is to believe given how chunky he is, Nick is struggling a bit with eating solid food. I probably introduced solids too early, since he is only now six months old based on his adjusted age, but he has been eating solids for about two months now and still struggles with eating from a spoon. When I place the spoon in his mouth, he will push the spoon out with his tongue, and then suck the food from the spoon like it's his bottle. I remember my other children doing the same thing with their tongue the first two or three times they ate from a spoon when I fed them solids, but Nick is still having a hard time getting used to the spoon two months later. I know Nick is getting all the nutrients he needs from his formula, so I'm not pressing solids too hard. He drinks 6 ounces of his formula every three hours or so, and I give him one serving of pureed fruit and vegetables a day.
Milestones:
Nick's first tooth came in this month! He has gotten good at rolling both ways, and likes to roll across the room and find things to chew on. I am getting better at accepting that Nick will reach his milestones when he is ready, and, even though it's hard not to compare him to my older children, who always hit their developmental milestones ahead of schedule, I am doing a better job of remembering that Nick will start sitting up and crawling with time. It does worry me that he doesn't babble at all (and by that I mean no "mamas" or "dadas,") and it's hard to imagine him ever doing so. But, I remember a few months ago when I couldn't imagine him smiling, and he smiles whenever he sees me now, so I know it will come with time.
Coming Up:
I am so excited to celebrate Nick's first Halloween and take him to the pumpkin patch and trick-or-treating…especially because all of his candy goes to me :) Between now and Christmas, we will have a lot of "anniversaries" to relive, which will be emotional, but I also have the opportunity to do a lot of advocacy work over the next few weeks.
Advocacy Work:
Through my fellowship with the March of Dimes, I had the chance to help launch of the Blanket Change campaign this past week to draw attention to the maternal mortality crisis in the US. Also, November is Prematurity Awareness Month, and I have the opportunity to participate in my state's Signature Chef Auction and dinner. Even though a lot of my work just involves sharing information on social media, it's empowering to do so and I become more and more passionate about maternal and child health every day.
High Risk Hope Indianapolis:
As I have shared on my blog and Instagram account before, for months now, I have been trying to find a way to support women in my community with a child in the NICU. Over the summer, I discovered the amazing nonprofit, High Risk Hope, which is based in Tampa but is active in hospital across the country. High Risk Hope provides Bed Rest Baskets for women on hospital bed rest that include different self-care items that a mom stuck in the hospital might need, like chapstick and a pedicure set, and NICU Napsacks for new moms with a baby in the NICU. The napsacks include a story book, milestone cards for pictures, etc. The point of HRH is simple: brighten a mom's day and let her know she isn't alone when going through a difficult and lonely time. I am so excited to be starting a branch of HRH in my hospital in Indianapolis. I plan to find different and more exciting ways to fundraise, but on Friday I started a Facebook fundraising page to introduce HRH Indianapolis to my friends and family, and we already raised $500. I am so excited and happy to bring this amazing program to my hospital, and to help women from my hometown going through something similar to me.
Weight:
At the doctor this week, Nick weighed just over 19 pounds. Between his chubby cheeks and all the rolls in his thighs, he reminds me a lot of the Michelin man these days :) He wears size three diapers and 9 month clothing.
Eating:
As hard as it is to believe given how chunky he is, Nick is struggling a bit with eating solid food. I probably introduced solids too early, since he is only now six months old based on his adjusted age, but he has been eating solids for about two months now and still struggles with eating from a spoon. When I place the spoon in his mouth, he will push the spoon out with his tongue, and then suck the food from the spoon like it's his bottle. I remember my other children doing the same thing with their tongue the first two or three times they ate from a spoon when I fed them solids, but Nick is still having a hard time getting used to the spoon two months later. I know Nick is getting all the nutrients he needs from his formula, so I'm not pressing solids too hard. He drinks 6 ounces of his formula every three hours or so, and I give him one serving of pureed fruit and vegetables a day.
Milestones:
Nick's first tooth came in this month! He has gotten good at rolling both ways, and likes to roll across the room and find things to chew on. I am getting better at accepting that Nick will reach his milestones when he is ready, and, even though it's hard not to compare him to my older children, who always hit their developmental milestones ahead of schedule, I am doing a better job of remembering that Nick will start sitting up and crawling with time. It does worry me that he doesn't babble at all (and by that I mean no "mamas" or "dadas,") and it's hard to imagine him ever doing so. But, I remember a few months ago when I couldn't imagine him smiling, and he smiles whenever he sees me now, so I know it will come with time.
Coming Up:
I am so excited to celebrate Nick's first Halloween and take him to the pumpkin patch and trick-or-treating…especially because all of his candy goes to me :) Between now and Christmas, we will have a lot of "anniversaries" to relive, which will be emotional, but I also have the opportunity to do a lot of advocacy work over the next few weeks.
Advocacy Work:
Through my fellowship with the March of Dimes, I had the chance to help launch of the Blanket Change campaign this past week to draw attention to the maternal mortality crisis in the US. Also, November is Prematurity Awareness Month, and I have the opportunity to participate in my state's Signature Chef Auction and dinner. Even though a lot of my work just involves sharing information on social media, it's empowering to do so and I become more and more passionate about maternal and child health every day.
High Risk Hope Indianapolis:
As I have shared on my blog and Instagram account before, for months now, I have been trying to find a way to support women in my community with a child in the NICU. Over the summer, I discovered the amazing nonprofit, High Risk Hope, which is based in Tampa but is active in hospital across the country. High Risk Hope provides Bed Rest Baskets for women on hospital bed rest that include different self-care items that a mom stuck in the hospital might need, like chapstick and a pedicure set, and NICU Napsacks for new moms with a baby in the NICU. The napsacks include a story book, milestone cards for pictures, etc. The point of HRH is simple: brighten a mom's day and let her know she isn't alone when going through a difficult and lonely time. I am so excited to be starting a branch of HRH in my hospital in Indianapolis. I plan to find different and more exciting ways to fundraise, but on Friday I started a Facebook fundraising page to introduce HRH Indianapolis to my friends and family, and we already raised $500. I am so excited and happy to bring this amazing program to my hospital, and to help women from my hometown going through something similar to me.
Friday, October 5, 2018
One Year Later
One year ago today, on Friday, October 6th, I experienced my first big bleed and the start of all my pregnancy complications. I was 11 weeks +5 days pregnant with Mr. Nick, and was having nasty first trimester side effects (lots of fatigue, LOTS of nausea, and a horrible aversion to coffee that would make me throw up on the spot if I smelled it brewing.)It had been an extra long week at school: I had parent/teacher conferences Wednesday and Thursday night after a full days of teaching, and it was also the week before fall break, so my third graders were extra rambunctious. By Friday night, I was ready to sit on the couch, in my yoga pants, with my feet up, and spend the following week resting and hopefully starting to feel a bit better.
I was doing just that-sitting on the couch in my yoga pants-and talking to my mom on the phone when I felt a pop-pop-pop in my lower left side, near where my ovaries are. It wasn't painful, like it would be in the future, and I didn't think anything of it until I felt a big WOOSH of blood. It was enough to bleed through my pants and onto my couch (though it stopped right away, and was more like a big gush than a continuous bleed.)
This was the first time I think my brain seemed to sense that something terrible might be happening, and I immediately went into survival mode. I calmly went upstairs to my room, changed pants, cleaned myself off, and called the after hours hotline at my OB's office. I remember explaining to the nurse that I suddenly lost a lot of blood, and she said it "could be nothing, but it also could be something," and that I needed to come to the Emergency Room right away.
While all this was going on, Cory was putting our then four-year-old and one-year-old to bed. I remember telling him that we needed to go to the hospital because I was having a miscarriage, so we called my parents to come to our house so we could drive to the ER together. As we drove to the hospital, I remember being so sure I was losing Nick. What else would cause so much bleeding? It still gives me chills to think about how I prayed that God would spare my baby anyways, and I remember thinking to myself how I would explain a miscarriage to Annabelle. Even though I was only 11 weeks pregnant, Nick was very real to Annabelle and already very much a part of our family.
When we got to the ER, I remember whispering to the lady at the front desk that I was 11 weeks pregnant and had started bleeding (because I was still in the first trimester, I would stay at the ER, while in the future I would be sent to Labor and Delivery.) I was taken back to ER, and all my vital signs and health information was taken. Next, a nurse came with a portable ultrasound machine. She explained that she was an ER nurse-not a labor and delivery nurse-and the point of the ultrasound was just to confirm a heartbeat. I remember bracing myself as the ultrasound began, and was stunned when it revealed a perfectly healthy 11-week-old fetus. Nick was totally fine. A second nurse then did a cervical exam to check for dilation (which would have been another sign of a miscarriage,)but that too was normal. An OB then came to talk with us, who explained that sometimes during pregnancy, especially in the first trimester, women will have bleeding, but it doesn't necessarily mean anything. I remember thinking there was no way she was right, and that there had to be a reason I had suddenly bled so much. I was allowed to leave the hospital, and was told to call my physician on Monday to see if he would want to see me. When I called the following Monday, the receptionist said my OB didn't need to see me unless the bleeding continued, or if I experienced any cramping. Since the big gush of blood Friday night, I hadn't had any other bleeding, so everyone assumed it was a one time thing.
About a week later, I passed a blood clot that was about the size of a grape. After this, I had a more thorough ultrasound and a consultation with my primary obstetrician. This ultrasound revealed the pesky Subchorionic Hematoma that would cause so many problems throughout the next four months. At this time, my doctor didn't think anything of it. He explained that SCH's are relatively normal (according to my Google research, it is the most common cause of bleeding in the first trimester,) and they normally heal on their own, and are gone by the 20 week ultrasound. Usually. But, since SCH's do slightly increase the risk of miscarriage, my doctor recommended pelvic rest (no exercise, no heavy lifting, no sex, etc) until the 20 week ultrasound.
I still don't fully understand the link between the SCH and the placental abruption that would cause Nick's premature birth (which is so weird since it's had such a huge impact on my life,) but, over the course of the next four months, I would be admitted to the hospital five times, spend 11 weeks on bed rest, have 15 total ultrasounds, and make eight more separate trips to the hospital. It's hard to believe it has been a year since all of this started, and it's even harder to accept how different our lives could be if I had bled just a little bit more. It's definitely an emotional day, and I think I will spend some extra time cuddling my lucky little boy today.
I was doing just that-sitting on the couch in my yoga pants-and talking to my mom on the phone when I felt a pop-pop-pop in my lower left side, near where my ovaries are. It wasn't painful, like it would be in the future, and I didn't think anything of it until I felt a big WOOSH of blood. It was enough to bleed through my pants and onto my couch (though it stopped right away, and was more like a big gush than a continuous bleed.)
This was the first time I think my brain seemed to sense that something terrible might be happening, and I immediately went into survival mode. I calmly went upstairs to my room, changed pants, cleaned myself off, and called the after hours hotline at my OB's office. I remember explaining to the nurse that I suddenly lost a lot of blood, and she said it "could be nothing, but it also could be something," and that I needed to come to the Emergency Room right away.
While all this was going on, Cory was putting our then four-year-old and one-year-old to bed. I remember telling him that we needed to go to the hospital because I was having a miscarriage, so we called my parents to come to our house so we could drive to the ER together. As we drove to the hospital, I remember being so sure I was losing Nick. What else would cause so much bleeding? It still gives me chills to think about how I prayed that God would spare my baby anyways, and I remember thinking to myself how I would explain a miscarriage to Annabelle. Even though I was only 11 weeks pregnant, Nick was very real to Annabelle and already very much a part of our family.
When we got to the ER, I remember whispering to the lady at the front desk that I was 11 weeks pregnant and had started bleeding (because I was still in the first trimester, I would stay at the ER, while in the future I would be sent to Labor and Delivery.) I was taken back to ER, and all my vital signs and health information was taken. Next, a nurse came with a portable ultrasound machine. She explained that she was an ER nurse-not a labor and delivery nurse-and the point of the ultrasound was just to confirm a heartbeat. I remember bracing myself as the ultrasound began, and was stunned when it revealed a perfectly healthy 11-week-old fetus. Nick was totally fine. A second nurse then did a cervical exam to check for dilation (which would have been another sign of a miscarriage,)but that too was normal. An OB then came to talk with us, who explained that sometimes during pregnancy, especially in the first trimester, women will have bleeding, but it doesn't necessarily mean anything. I remember thinking there was no way she was right, and that there had to be a reason I had suddenly bled so much. I was allowed to leave the hospital, and was told to call my physician on Monday to see if he would want to see me. When I called the following Monday, the receptionist said my OB didn't need to see me unless the bleeding continued, or if I experienced any cramping. Since the big gush of blood Friday night, I hadn't had any other bleeding, so everyone assumed it was a one time thing.
About a week later, I passed a blood clot that was about the size of a grape. After this, I had a more thorough ultrasound and a consultation with my primary obstetrician. This ultrasound revealed the pesky Subchorionic Hematoma that would cause so many problems throughout the next four months. At this time, my doctor didn't think anything of it. He explained that SCH's are relatively normal (according to my Google research, it is the most common cause of bleeding in the first trimester,) and they normally heal on their own, and are gone by the 20 week ultrasound. Usually. But, since SCH's do slightly increase the risk of miscarriage, my doctor recommended pelvic rest (no exercise, no heavy lifting, no sex, etc) until the 20 week ultrasound.
I still don't fully understand the link between the SCH and the placental abruption that would cause Nick's premature birth (which is so weird since it's had such a huge impact on my life,) but, over the course of the next four months, I would be admitted to the hospital five times, spend 11 weeks on bed rest, have 15 total ultrasounds, and make eight more separate trips to the hospital. It's hard to believe it has been a year since all of this started, and it's even harder to accept how different our lives could be if I had bled just a little bit more. It's definitely an emotional day, and I think I will spend some extra time cuddling my lucky little boy today.
Thursday, September 27, 2018
Moving On, Part Two
I have been really frustrated lately about how hard it has been for me to move on with my life. Every morning when I wake up, I tell myself that I'm not going to think about the NICU today, that I'll concentrate on whatever is going on that day and force myself to push all the obsessive thinking out of my head. But still, no matter what I do, memories come creeping back into my thought patterns, and I can't help but dwell on the same.things.over.and.over.
The hardest part for me to accept is what an literal miracle it was that 1.Nick is alive, and 2. That I stayed pregnant long enough to give Nick an easy stay in the NICU and avoid the major complications of prematurity. I keep thinking to myself how easily Nick could have died so many different times, and maybe it sounds selfish or self centered, but I think coming so close to losing your child is a burden to carry in it's own right. I just don't know how I'm supposed to have gone through an experience like the NICU and then go back to teaching, or running errands, or going out with friends like I used to do. I'm worried the NICU changed me to the point where I can never go back to being my who I was one year ago.
But then, a large part of me feels called to work in the field of prematurity and high-risk pregnancies. I have applied to social work programs with the goal of becoming a perinatal social worker, and I am in the process of trying to starting a branch of the amazing nonprofit, High Risk Hope, at my hospital. Just yesterday, a girl I grew up with shared on Facebook how she delivered her baby eight weeks early do to complications of preeclampsia. I messaged her to tell her I had an idea of what she was going through, that I would be praying for her, and gave her my phone number in case she ever needed to talk. She thanked me for reaching out, and then asked me how I got through it. I remember so clearly that devastation and fear that comes when you first realize what it means to have a child in the NICU, and I hope that I made her feel a little more comforted. My point in sharing this is because I feel like a lot of good has come from my experience, and I can pay it forward in a way that benefits other preemie moms in my community. Then again, my husband thinks it's unhealthy to be doing so much related to the NICU (like writing this blog,) and maybe that's why I feel so stuck. I just don't know how to get back to normal and move past to everything that has happened this year.
The hardest part for me to accept is what an literal miracle it was that 1.Nick is alive, and 2. That I stayed pregnant long enough to give Nick an easy stay in the NICU and avoid the major complications of prematurity. I keep thinking to myself how easily Nick could have died so many different times, and maybe it sounds selfish or self centered, but I think coming so close to losing your child is a burden to carry in it's own right. I just don't know how I'm supposed to have gone through an experience like the NICU and then go back to teaching, or running errands, or going out with friends like I used to do. I'm worried the NICU changed me to the point where I can never go back to being my who I was one year ago.
But then, a large part of me feels called to work in the field of prematurity and high-risk pregnancies. I have applied to social work programs with the goal of becoming a perinatal social worker, and I am in the process of trying to starting a branch of the amazing nonprofit, High Risk Hope, at my hospital. Just yesterday, a girl I grew up with shared on Facebook how she delivered her baby eight weeks early do to complications of preeclampsia. I messaged her to tell her I had an idea of what she was going through, that I would be praying for her, and gave her my phone number in case she ever needed to talk. She thanked me for reaching out, and then asked me how I got through it. I remember so clearly that devastation and fear that comes when you first realize what it means to have a child in the NICU, and I hope that I made her feel a little more comforted. My point in sharing this is because I feel like a lot of good has come from my experience, and I can pay it forward in a way that benefits other preemie moms in my community. Then again, my husband thinks it's unhealthy to be doing so much related to the NICU (like writing this blog,) and maybe that's why I feel so stuck. I just don't know how to get back to normal and move past to everything that has happened this year.
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