White, White and more White. THE OR

The thing is... I know there is no chance everyone was wearing white, but I am being truthful when I tell you that my memories of the next 20-30 minutes are filled with WHITE.  Odd I know considering I was having my little miracle surgically removed from my body.  But maybe it is symbolic somehow. 

This room, where I was physically separated from my daughter was where the source of my anxiety and night terrors began.  

I remember being rolled into the room.  It was WHITE lol.  The lights all seemed super bright and clear... the walls seemed white.  It was like one of those dream sequences from any movie where they try to depict heaven.  I was still feeling quite woozy and just on the edge of vomiting at every moment.  If anyone out there thinks a woman having an emergency c section or even just a planned one is a ONE sided effort... they are ridiculously mistaken.  The effort I put into remaining calm, not getting overheated, and NOT tossing my cookies right there on the table was a MONUMENTAL one. 

The first thing was the transfer onto the operating table.  Funny thing is I can't fully remember how that went down.  But I do clearly remember the spinal block, or epidural or whatever it was they did to me that paralyzed the entire lower 3/4 of my body.  I remember the sweetest young lady (her face is a total blur sadly but her countenance of calm and confidence was unforgettable) asking me to sit up on the edge of the table and put my feet down on what seemed like steps.  Basically I am in sitting position and she said "ok sweetie, I need you to hug like you know me well and rest your head on my shoulder so your back will curl. I also need you to say perfectly still.  You are going to feel a fairly decent pressure and pinch in your lower back but I need you not to move when you feel it.  You can do this honey."    I obeyed.   Honestly I did feel it push through my back and the thought of it was a bit ominous, but once it was in I was ok.   

They helped me lay back down and put a fan on my face at which point I almost threw up my entire stomach.  I was hot and I needed the fan, but just the sensation of anything touching or affecting my body... the breeze on my face was turning my stomach.  Completely wild. 

 They begin pricking me in my feet and legs asking if I feel anything.  I didn't.  They slowly moved up my legs and to my hips at which point I did still feel it.  So they waited a few more minutes and pricked again. No feeling in my hips this time.  I thought "I bet I can move my toes right now anyway."   HAHAHAHHHAHHAHAHAHAHHA  I felt nothing.  Pricked my belly and up to my ribs..... WERE GOOD.  Nothin there.  I may as well have a a living BUST at this point.  

My amazing savior of a doctor asked Greg if he wanted to see any of it. He made his case CLEAR.  "This is the Mason Dixon line.... you work south of it and I'll work up here north of it."  That I do remember because he had planned to say it regardless of how Eden was born lololol.  

Truly the next physical body memory I have is of my whole body being somewhat  "jerked and jostled" around.  Mind you I don't mean in an abusive way! (well... my body was in total abuse itself mode so maybe I do!)  I mean that I KNEW there were two sets of hands in side my body pulling and tugging.  Upon each tug and pull I could feel myself about to throw up again.  The WHOLE time I was literally tip toeing around the base of Mt. St Helens about to blow again.  Churning and bubbling..... the natives were ramping it up with one of their sauciest rhythms and I had to once again shush them in my head.  Ok...somewhat calm again.  I felt like my own conductor trying to "hush" the brass during a Wagner opera so the singer could be heard.  It was a real "Kill the Wabbit" kind of moment. 

More tugging and pulling and the occasional jerk.  Greg is watching me.  I wondered what he must be seeing on my face during all this. I do remember catching a glimpse of myself completely swollen and sick on the way into the OR... I could not believe it was me.  So what must he have been thinking???  The anesthesiologist... or forgive me whoever it was to my right tried to blow the fan on my face again and I remember saying "NO.... not working!"  He giggled and took it right away.  

Then....SHE was here.  I heard my doctor say "listen... can you hear that?"  We both listened so closely for just a few seconds when we heard it.  Two or three of the tiniest micro sized kitten from a mile away whimpers.  I could not believe it.  She was alive.  She was crying.  We looked at each other with that look of "she's going to be OK."   

Greg didn't want to see her until I could.  He didn't want to see them working on her either. He also didn't want to chance crossing south of that paper curtain line for fear of seeing his wife's insides lolol.  He stayed right by my side while Eden's fearless neonatologist and NICU team took her and prepared her for immediate transport to the NICU. 

 They wheeled her by on the way out trying to give me a chance to see her but all I could see was a plastic baggy which she had already wiggled her way out of inside of the transport isolette.  The baggy was to seal in the moisture she would no doubt rapidly lose being so underdeveloped. 

She was in there and the fact that they were in such a hurry told me she had a chance. A chance was all we were praying for because if she was anything like either one of us.... she was a BORN fighter.   The last thing her doctor said to Greg as he was leaving was "You don't really want to see me for the next hour.  If I come back before then... it's not likely good.  We have a got a chance though."

From there I remember them putting my parts back inside and sewing me up.  Those pesky emergency c sections require a little more cleaning up after.  I was told I had a vertical uterine incision and I could see the low transverse incision on the outside of my tummy.  Between those two....I won't lie....PAIN.   

I do remember being rolled down to the NICU though I seriously cannot remember how long it was before I got to see her.  I could have been 2 hours it could have been 4.  Greg says they took me back to my L and D room to stabilize me and apparently I passed out for several hours.  I'm inclined to believe him :)))) 

My dad of course always on the verge of crying.  Greg... exhausted and satisfied... PROUD.

 I was stable... my BP was coming down slightly as it would because delivery really is the only cure for Preeclampsia... the "foreign" object is now removed from my body so it will begin to heal and the baby can now have a chance at fighting without being attacked.  Of course Eden had a zillion other things to fight against now but at least she had a team of doctors, nurses and RT's fighting FOR her. And ME.... I was headed to my own set of battles in recovery.  But not before they rolled me down to see her the one time for a few moments before heading to my room.  

I was on my back being wheeled in by MCDREAMY.... Sorry.... couldn't help it hahhhaah and of course my Mom and Greg.

 And this is the moment where I got to meet my daughter.  Yet another ANGEL introduced me to her.  She followed our whole journey and is still following it.  She gave me Eden's hand through the isolette to touch for the first time.  I was so afraid to touch her for fear of causing an infection or stimulating her micro sized body...(1 lb. 3 oz) into a bad place.




 But I was thankful to GOD for this moment.  I was also thankful that we made a little girl who could have a chance fighting through all this.

Then it was back to my room where I would begin my healing process.  Full of fluid.. BP still quite elevated but already improving...feeling like I was living under a french fry lamp.

And Greg as always by my bedside...asking me what I needed.

And I would need A LOT in the next week of recovery there.  But God put the right people all around me to fill every need perfectly. 

Prepping for the C!

Among so many of my cloudy and hazed memories of the middle of that night, I do clearly remember taking that ride down the hallway with the vomit pan and still sitting on the bed pan... and yes... still active as Mount St. Helens on May 18, 1980.  

I remember making it to my L and D room where a whole slew of nurses, RT's, anesthesiologists and doctors was waiting for me.  It was like being slowly choo choo'd into a Berlin train station where tons of people were waiting on the platform for me.  They were ALL lovely.  Intense.... YES.  But I have specific memories of being kept in a light head space by not only Greg, but certain staff members.  My dear friend from high school was there and came in to hold and caress my bloated and plumped out hand.  I remember how comforting it was and yet for a moment I thought if she was not as gentle as she was being... and she was being gentle.... my fingers and toes might explode.  She was quietly praying over me and while she had the sweetest look of love and encouragement... I knew there was worry tucked in just behind her beautiful eyes.  I later found out she had just been through life threatening surgery herself previously in the same hospital and they almost lost her several times. She KNEW what I was going through.

One stick here for a new IV, one stick there for blood work, push the MAG....feel the DRAG.  Really the Mag brings on more of a sensation of extreme warmth and an "Wooo hooo... bring on the scalpel!" kind of feeling.  I am sure everyone is different, but for me I actually enjoyed the drag of the mag... just not the after effects post surgery.  Then there was my latina angel of a nurse and one I could never forget as well.  I do remember her presence earlier on in this few days when I was down in L and D the first time.  But my clearer memories of her were this time.  Her smile... her complete confidence that everything was going to be ok and that "We do this every day" kind of energy.  





The biggest problem at this point was the vomiting.  The other end had finally taken a hiatus thank God.


But I could not stop projectile vomiting. Greg reminds me often of the female anethesiologist to my right at the time who literally had the reflexes of a cat and saw me about to blow.  

I just knew I was going to erupt all over her, but literally in a split second she jumped to the side, and had a tray underneath my mouth to catch it all.  Dang that gal had SKILL...... well probably more experience.  She saw that glazed look in my eye that said "Oh God here it comes...."   Oddly enough after that room I never saw her again lol.  Maybe she thought better to pass me off to someone else who I could vomit on hahahahahah!

They had to stop the vomiting for fear of aspiration during surgery and to keep what was left in my tummy....acid and maybe some dinner DOWN.  I remember someone bringing me a little shot with a peel off lid of some brown liquid.  She said "just shoot it... don't think about it... don't try to taste it....shoot it and keep it down with all of your might for as long as you can.  Focus ALL of your energy in this moment on keeping it down."   I obeyed.  I shot. But unfortunately I could not help but taste it... it was like drinking high concentrated apple cider vinegar with no sweetener!!!!!  I clenched my throat and gut trying to hold it down.  The liquid danced around in my stomach like a bunch of wild natives stomping at a sacrifice and rumbling the ground under their feet.  I could feel it rising and I would beat it down.... this happened over what felt like was the next 10 minutes in my mind.  But I am told I held down about half of it for only about 30 seconds!  Apparently the goal was holding down at least some of it...which I did.  

The urge to vomit began to subside shortly after and I found a brief moment of peace.  Mind you what appears to be a triple chin on my neck was ALL edema.  I only gained about 24 actual pounds during the pregnancy... the rest of this bloating was all water and swelling from the the preeclampsia.  All 35 pounds of it. 

I remember holding on to the bed like I am in this picture because the Mag really kicked in and I was floating around the room.  I was trying to anchor myself. 

And these two beauties were there to anchor me.  They did. 

Greg will forgive for me this because he knows I love him with all of my heart.  But anyone of you ladies who has ever been in this situation or some medical emergency has likely experienced knowing how horrible you look and feel... having no dignity with everyone poking and prodding you and all of your worst features magnified in this moment... and of course in walks a super HOT staff member.  And you think..."Oh great... a gorgeous man gets to see me like this and I haven't had a bath in two days."  Yep it happened.  I only have a photo of half of his face after the fact down in the NICU.  

I pray I am not running faces and times together.... it is very possible.   It was all such a blur and so clear at the same time. The hilarious part is you can probably zoom to see his name but anyone at that hospital is going to know who this and laugh so hard that this was one of my clear memories.... lololol!   There he is!  Obviously at this moment I could have cared less because I was looking at her isolette.  LOL  Priorities!  Oh and little Devri my niece let me take her Weenie Dog after the fact so I would not feel alone.  So sweet!!!

Ok back to the current moment.... I do remember seeing my families face.. especially my Mom and Dad as I was about to be wheeled to the OR.  It was a sobering moment.  It was quiet.  I saw tears.  I saw a moment of suspension with all of them.  I knew there was a real chance that I would not see them again on this earth, but somehow I felt a peace that I would.  No guarantee though. God has his own plans. I remember being rolled into a VERY WHITE room.  It was immaculate and very bright.  I thought for a moment I had left the earth but then........I felt Greg's hand on my forehead.

     

Staying Pregnant 1 hour at a time.

Staying Pregnant.  Wow.  

For someone who had a healthy full term pregnancy.... did a full three periods of regulation play and went into overtime....staying pregnant isn't necessarily the priority.  But when you're 23 weeks and 3 days, EVERY HOUR and EVERY DAY is vital to improving the odds for your baby even if your own body is taking a hit.  So once I was admitted to the hospital where I would be until I delivered, those words were written on the medical board in my room and constantly said to me.  "Were staying pregnant another day Ms. Major... that is the goal"  What that meant was TOTAL bed rest and only getting up to go the bathroom, daily blood draws to check for signs of distress in my organs, constant BP monitoring, 3 different BP meds three times a day, and the dreaded baby monitoring.  Upon arriving I was already in a bit of a crisis so I was immediately put into L and D and pumped with MAG (magnesium sulfate) which is given intravenously to prevent seizures in the mother and was given a round of steroids to help the babies lungs kick into high gear growth since they were nowhere near ready.  

Basically I learned all about Preeclampsia in a few days.  Having always thought it was simply pregnancy High blood pressure, I learned quickly from the doctors that it is actually an autoimmune disorder and that is symptomatic with severely high BP and many other issues such as organ failure and seizures straight ahead.  It respects NO age...health history.. nothing.  There is NO test to detect it early on and it happens all the way back at implantation. 

So we need to grow the baby FAST, but she can only get the best growth in my womb while my body is attacking the placenta thinking its all something dangerous and foreign and as a result my own body is breaking down.  AWESOME Catch 22. 

Greg parked himself on the couch bed in my room and aside from going to the nurses station to get someone there for me, or going to the bathroom, or hitting the cafeteria.... he NEVER left.  He took my leg compressors ( blood clot protectors) on and off when I had to get up to go to the bathroom.  He tucked me back in to bed each time. He slept when he could on that hard couch. 

He bought my pregnancy pillow... the finest one out there.

He committed medical board mutiny every single day by adding his own flavor and desires for my care.  Yes  Balloons and confetti canons were his prescription.  He was ever the CLOWN. 

 Anything to keep me smiling and positive.  

My BP would go up and slightly down, up and slightly down..... but it just would not go below 155/95.  That seemed to be the new bottom floor of my BP...

In general I became numb with getting poked and prodded.  Between getting the mid line (which is much like a pic line) in the arm and being raised up on my bed to what felt like 9 feet in the air so the technician could perform the procedure in my room, to getting a new IV every day or two because the pressure in my body was so high every time my BP was taken it would start pushing the IV out of my arm, the headaches, the total body pain, and the monitoring... ohhh the baby monitoring.... I was overwhelmed.

It was such a joy hearing her heartbeat so strong and clear.  SUCH A JOY.  For the first hour.   And the rule was as long as in that hour she didn't desat or disappear from the monitor (she was so small she had tons of room to bounce around and "hide" where the monitor couldn't pick her up) we could just monitor her for an hour twice a day.  No big deal right?  I can do that.

WRONG.  It was like Eden KNEW.  I promise you lol.  I even said it.  Like clockwork... about 55 minutes into the required hour of monitoring.... suddenly her HR sound would fade of and go quiet. EVERY TIME.   And every time that happened.... EVERY TIME.....(lol get my point?) it would buy me another 30 minutes on the monitor that had to be desat or hiding free.  Fast forward 3 hours...my back is KILLING me like someone has been driving a dull knife into it because I could not move during monitoring for fear of losing her signal. I am sweating and finally crying and begging for mercy..... they finally took me off the monitor but then later than evening it was time AGAIN.  This time the precious gift of a nurse stayed by my side and HELD the monitor with her own hands in the perfect place.  She told me to sleep and she stayed there literally held it in the right place and if Eden started to hide.. she would chase her with the monitor and got me through that two hours.  I will NEVER forget her.

Crisis over for then because they moved me back to a normal Antepartum room for 36 hours.

Fast forward to day 3.  Greg had barely slept and he needed to get back to work at some point.  I was "stable" and off the MAG and feeling fairly decent compared to the last two days.  I sent him home to sleep in a real bed.  I had to force him.  So around 9 pm on August 16th he reluctantly went home but would only do so if my Mom would spend the night with me.  She had the same stipulation lol.  

We started into the night and Mom would play soft meditating music and worship music.  She rubbed my back.  She helped me get up and down. She sought after pain meds for me when necessary.  She filled the gap of Greg beautifully.  Then.... you guessed it.... the dreaded monitoring AGAIN.

  Yes... this is exactly how pregnant I got.   But back to monitoring.  We had to tie it.... tape it...rig it...hold it....and nothing worked.  Every single time she would disappear or desat.  I finally lost it and in a fit of tears out of sheer exhaustion from trying to hold position for that long.  It is so interesting to me that the name of the game was to relax and keep the old BP down.... and this... drove it right through the roof every time.  Greg had previously made me turn the sound on the monitor off and that actually worked for a while.  But this night I completely forgot to do that so I was hearing was her little heart and her swimming around and stomping... and yes... HIDING.   I bawled.. Snot and tears falling everywhere.  Mom is rubbing my back and it DID feel so good...

But it just just was not bringing my BP down. Yet another injection of lebetalol into my IV and another med I can't think of currently.  There were 3 that I remember.  Not coming down.  Up to 185/100 and finally bottomed out and began convulsions after they gave me phenergan to battle the nausea with all of this.  Instead of that working...I erupted in one of the most violent vomits ever... and it was continuous.  

Mom called Greg.  "You're going to have to come back Greg, it looks like its time."  

More vomiting... and I mean LOUD... yelling and grunting type of involuntary vomiting.  Mom is holding the tray for me.  It took Greg only about 15 minutes to get back.  He walked in to this scene.  My room full of nurses and my doctor.  "Were going to have to deliver you now.  This is it.  We have waited as long as we can.  She is 24 weeks which is viable."

More loud vomiting and then... inevitably.... in any body trying to get rid of toxins... it will find ANY route out.  So bring on the bed pan WOOT!!!!

I won't apologize for sharing this.  I went through it.  Other women go through it and its real.  I am on my bed.... my husband takes the vomit tray and is holding and stroking my hair... while my Mom is holding me on the bed pan and I am literally EXPLODING out of BOTH ends.  Yep.  Full evacuation people!!!!  The least of amount of dignity I could have ever experienced.... yep  that was that moment!

I was aware of how loud I was.  All I could think of was I felt SO bad for the 10 other Moms to be on that floor because they were hearing ALL of it.  I was even told by one of my dear friends who worked on that floor that my doctor... my SAVIOR... as they were chatting in the hallway said  "I am about to have to cut your friend."  Frankly knowing that later I found it hilarious.  Just another day at the office for her!!!  And I'm SO glad it was because she handled everything like a seasoned and precision PRO.

So... begin the ride on my own bed with a vomit tray and bed pan in tow back to L and D.......

2 hours to go......

Dr. DEATH and the ANGEL

In an effort to keep the story in some of chronological order I've decided to go ahead and venture into telling one of the most painful moments along the way.  That morning around 11 am after being admitted to a room at the first hospital that we went to the ER in.....we were waiting for a solid diagnosis.  Greg was with me as he was the entire time and our families knew we were there but had not been up to visit just yet. The door to my room creaked open and I would love to say a shaft of white light entered the room with the older male figure who was there to deliver our diagnosis.

However what actually followed was 15 minutes of the worst bed side manner, darkest moments and anxieties that I had ever experienced in my life.  Mind you I was already very sick with BP being maintained at an acceptable HIGH of 165/95.  This man who in our best description looked like a much older hippie version of Harrison Ford... meaning his hair was kind of free as well....and silvery.

Ill cut right to it:

Dr. Death:  "23.5 weeks huh?  Well let's take a look at our options here."  (He pulls out his iPhone and begins entering numbers into a calculator with percentages doing a tally of some kind.)   "So, the name of the game is to stay pregnant, but the truth is at your age and your situation being so sick so early....I don't know how long that is going to be possible."   

His tone was rather matter of fact with zero empathy and it sent chills in to my spine thinking what he might utter next.  He begins to type again more numbers. This felt like many have said a Tax Audit feels.

"Basically its like this....If you had to be delivered today.. and its very possible... the chances of her surviving this are about 30- 35 percent but in that case its not likely she will be able to attend Texas A & M and finish. "   



That was his way of insinuating a high chance of her being a complete vegetable.



My throat began to heat up and I could feel my body getting fuller and fatter as my BP rose. Greg found a perfect moment to volley back to Dr. Death and said "That's OK... I don't like A & M anyway."  GOD LOVE HIM for that.   (Greg is in the blue uniform.. because that is exactly how quick he fired back... MY HERO)

Oh but Dr. Death was not finished. "So basically if you made it to 24 weeks the chances go up.  In fact every 24 hours at this point is quite a leap of odds in her favor (as he is doing math again on his iphone) and her chances go up by 20 percent but she still might not go to A & M. However Christi you have to realize the chances you are taking with your own body.  The longer you try to stay pregnant and give her a better chance... the harder of a hit your body takes and you are now risking your own life and leaving her with no mother."

All of this with ZERO empathy... just numbers and stats... calculated.  " Of course there is also the option of scuttling the mission.  She is on 23.5 weeks and between us we could fudge the numbers a bit so no one goes to jail." 

YES... this was said to us.  Clear as DAY.  Clear as eyes shortly after lasik.  Clear as the water in Fiji.
We both were left there with our mouths hanging open.  Obviously I have no photos to share of this moment..... why would we?   So I'm grabbing fun pics from the internet lolo

He then proceeded to do a sonogram and when he looked her he took a moment and made a sound and lifted his eyebrows in surprise. "Hmmmm."    And then he left the room.  No explanation.  Just left.

There was a brief moment of a vacuum of silence.  All of the negativity of his presence and bedside manner lingered so heavily like a thick vapor that made it hard to breath.  There was a brief second or two of complete shock and hopelessness coupled with anger.

Enter the ANGEL.  We call her our Angel to this day.  She was so beautiful with smoky dark skin and long black hair with the kindest eyes and the most genuine smile that came straight from the heart.

She sat down next to my bed and saw our tears.  She said "Ok, I know you have just received some very shocking and sobering news regarding your situation.  Let's take a bit longer and go through all of the information slowly and carefully so that you can process it properly."  

Spent the next 45 minutes carefully explaining all of the things that can possibly happen to one born so small.  She took her time and spoke of the possibilities for her in a positive light... like these are scary situations but she CAN come through them.  The one thing she said to us that gave us encouragement was that EVERY BABY IS DIFFERENT.  She explained that while brain bleeds, NEC - a intestinal infection, eye damage, pulmonary hypertension, chronic lungs for a while etc are all things that can and do happen frequently with these micro preemies.....there is no set calculation of number to predict how any baby will react.... In other words, our little Eden is NOT a statistic.  If we wanted to give her every chance to have a life... we were right for deciding to do so and she simply prepared us for a long NICU journey but added it would be filled with love and support from the best staff, doctors, nurses and RT's available.

The Angel... she changed the molecules in the air in our room.  She gave us HOPE.  And while my BP was rising the whole time.....I began to breathe again freely.... Greg held my hand and we met eyes several times in a look of the unknown.  But we knew we would do this TOGETHER.  We knew it would not be too much as long as we walked this road TOGETHER.

It was then they decided to transfer me downtown to to the  higher level NICU that could handle 24 weekers.  We were currently at a fantastic hospital that only worked with 28 weeks and up.  We were going to MICRO LAND.

As far as Dr. Death goes....I say we lovingly call him that.  It's true.  While I was blessed with an AMAZING female doctor who saved our lives.... apparently in the craziest of most dangerous and unknown situations in labor and delivery.... Dr. Death is the doctor you want... the kind of doctor that delivers one twin and waits to deliver the other one to give them a better chance. His brain is so scientific and calculated for those types of situations that he is disconnected from his empathy at bedside. We later learned this.  His words still stick with us... and apparently Eden too.....

Because about 3 months into her life I was holding her for the 1 hour a day we were permitted to. My chair was faced away and Greg was by our side.  We heard a voice and our neonatologist said "Uh oh.. it can't be good if you're here."  The voice said "yep,"  Suddenly my daughter made the most horrific face like she was sticking her tongue out and then she exploded in her diaper.  She smiled right after very satisfied.    We turned around and sure it enough..... it was Dr. Death.

I guess Eden had the last laugh and made her statement clear.  Poop on your predictions!

FINALLY Talking....The story of EDEN's creation.

I'm just now finding the courage, even if not so much the time to share our story in my own words. I sit here in my living room with this little gal next to me.  Her eyes are watching my fingers type and she has her hand on her oxygen tube as though she is going to pull it off... yet again.


 It's a quiet moment for me because our little girl, Eden, can't cry on her own due to the tracheostomy she had put in last January when she was 5 and a half months old.  She is dependent on 1/2 liter o2 without a ventilator anymore.  I'm looking at her thinking how perfectly healthy she looks.  She's got chubs and rolls, she is pink, she is working her wubunub like a champion and she knows me and smiles at me with full recognition all over the room.  She is 16 plus pounds now and 9 months old.

The truth is everything that went down 9 months ago... and even the 5 months prior to that was all a shock and a veritable tornado of circumstances that I could NEVER have imagined could or would happen. I suppose it would be like looking at an earthquake monitor where the long sheet of paper being printed is fairly smooth with a few movements here and there and then suddenly... 9.0 scribble scribble scribble...... and... yes were still scribbling :)

In March of 2015 just after celebrating my 40th birthday, I began having strange symptoms in my body.  They did not make sense to me because I was always told having a baby was highly unlikely if impossible.  So naturally I assume I was experiencing very early onset Menopause.  I was also highly worried that I was sick somehow.  At the urging of my husband I took a pregnancy test and it took exactly zero seconds for it to tell me I was pregnant.  Still in disbelief I made an appointment with my doctor and they had to convince me I was pregnant!

Had a beautiful pregnancy and ultrasounds showed she was a healthy and genetically perfectly developing little girl...until 23 weeks.  Being an Opera Singer I have to travel to work.  I even continued to travel with her and perform.  In fact I had just returned from San Francisco performing with the Mozart Festival there and on stage while I was performing... she began to move!  I did notice extra swelling in my feet but aside from typical soreness in the joints like every pregnant woman experiences... I was fine.  My BP was checked religiously due to my age and having no history of hypertension... it was always spot on perfect.

One night in August I was packing for a trip to NYC for a gig and some vocal coachings.  I noticed I had a small headache but nothing major.  My feet were a bit more swollen than normal pregnancy swelling but otherwise I felt fine.



I decided anyway to take my BP at home.  First reading was a shocking 165/95.   Shocking to me because I've never seen a reading above normal. I decided to take it again and it was the same.  I then decided to lay down and relax for 20 minutes and try again. The second attempt yielded a shocking 175/100.   I could not believe it and still though it was a false reading because of how I felt.  I told my husband who was currently at work who immediately told me in caps through text "GET DRESSED."   That meant we were going to the hospital.

I knew this meant my trip was cancelled.  And THANK GOD it was.  We arrived the ER and they immediately took me to a room and checked my BP.  Those readings were accurate.  They admitted me for 6 hours while they did tests and monitored me. The end result by the next morning after a run in with who we lovingly call Dr. Death and the Angel (another post on that story!!! Its a good one.) was that at 23.5 weeks, and my BP so high... I had to be transferred to a level 4 NICU downtown... oddly enough where I was born 40 years ago! Diagnosis: Severe Preeclampsia.



I went from almost flying to NYC to sing to being told I was on complete bed rest for the next 3 months or as far as I could make it staying pregnant.  Wow.  Talk about a 9.0.



For any Mom to be going through this now or who has, you will know its laced with anxiety, several BP meds, 100's of sticks to test for organ damage, hours on the baby monitor that have to be desat free (yet another separate post!)  in order for you come off the monitor, hospital food, back pain, swelling up like a balloon thinking your eyes might pop out if you develop anymore pressure inside your body, and loads of fear.  The whole point is REST and TOTAL QUIET, but when your body basically belongs to the monitors, needles and blood pressure monitoring every 30 minutes.... try finding rest.  My husband was by my side for all of it.



 With him and the thousands of prayers going up, I was able to manage my fears with my faith....for at least the next 3 days.

tick tock tick tock......

To be continued...