I had been in pain for three days prior to going into the hospital. I had gone in some weeks before with the same symptoms and been sent home so I was prepared to grind my teeth through it this time. When I was unable to stand, sit, or lay without being in pain I decided it was worth being sent home to make sure there was nothing wrong. I was not prepared for what followed. I was transferred from my admitting hospital to one a half hour away for the NICU. I had never been in an ambulance before. The ems sitting in the back with me was an older man with white hair, he held my hand the entire way and told me about his family and asked questions about mine. I had cried the whole hour before, and he knew it. He told me not to be afraid, his son had been born early too and was thriving. As long as I was strong my baby would be okay, I had to be positive.
I never got that mans name, if he told me I don't remember. He is the reason I was able to be calm the remainder of my labor. Neither one of us knew how sick I was, but he changed my outlook from fearful to hopeful. I wish I could find him and say thank you, he made a huge impact on my life. As he was leaving, he gave me a small hug and wished me good luck.
I had severe preeclampsia and class I (severe) HELLP Syndrome, two things I had never heard of going into the hospital. My platelet count was in the lowest range, my blood pressure put me at risk of seizures, my liver was starting to fail and the doctors were worried about other organs following it. My blood pressure was stabilized but still very high my entire delivery and my count kept dropping. There are two pictures of me during labor/delivery and I was unrecognizable due to swelling.
Every four hours my blood was being taken to monitor my liver enzymes and platelet count. With HELLP syndrome, the lower your platelet count goes, the higher risk you are to have bleeding issues after delivery. Many HELLP deliveries end with blood transfusions. Luckily mine did not. However my platelets were so low that I wasn't allowed to have an epi (I didn't want one anyways) and the doctors were afraid to do a c-section.
HELLP Syndrome is a silent killer, a rare killer, but one none the less. It is estimated that as many as 48,000 pregnant women in the US will develop HELLP each year. A seemingly small number until you find out that it can have the same symptoms as preeclampsia, gall bladder disease, the flu, etc. and many doctors have never heard of it. It cannot be prevented, is only diagnosed with a blood test, can occur after delivery, is absolved by delivery and doesn't always occur alongside preeclampisa.
Had I gone into the hospital with only preeclampsia I would have been put on magnesium and bed rest to buy at least a few more days for Caiden. But due to having HELLP and how severe it was, he needed to be delivered right away. Luckily he was head down when I was admitted so I was allowed to try for a vaginal delivery, if anything went wrong I was told I would be rushed immediately to surgery. The doctors were hoping for the best. I didn't know how to read the monitors keeping track of my contractions and his heart rate, but I was later told that with each contraction Caiden's heart rate would dip, they didn't know the cord was wrapped around his neck four times. I still don't know why they didn't take me for a c-section then. Fetal distress usually, if not always warrants one.
At one point when I asked the nurse taking my blood why it was necessary to do so frequently, he said, "we're just keeping an extra close eye, we want you to be able to meet your baby." It scared the hell out of me. I thought I was on the brink of death but I didn't have time to focus on me. I still had two months until Caiden's due date.
When you're told your baby is going to be delivered months before they're ready, its a total out of body experience. You prepare for your child's death. There's no way they could survive so early and so small. Even after their first cry and the first time you hold them, you still anticipate it. You have no expectation of bringing them home, you can't afford a hope. But then you do, its not until months after discharge that you can finally catch your breath. Their prematurity wasn't a death sentence. It was a chance for you, their parent, to grow and learn, to become strong in your heart, mind and soul.
Nearly a year later and I still wake up in the middle of the night to ensure he's still breathing.
Living through the diagnosis of HELLP and having a child born premature has taught me three things:
1) You can never prepare for everything.
I thought I knew everything I needed to know about pregnancy. I had my entire labor planned and the second I walked into the hospital it all went out the window. I never anticipated complications because I had never heard of what could go wrong. I knew about stillbirths and miscarriages, but that could never happen to me.
Along with raising prematurity awareness, I strongly believe there should be a campaign to raise awareness about the complications you might not have heard of. I am always telling Caiden's story, he's not just a preemie, he's a HELLP baby, a survivor. Had I not put my pride aside and gone into the hospital that morning, I could have stroked and/or my liver could have failed. We could have been dead long before we ever knew what if anything was wrong.
2) Gaining a few pounds and a couple stretch marks or being peed/spit up on by a baby are not the worst things that can happen to you when you sign up for motherhood.
Sometimes I have to remind myself this when Caiden is being particularly difficult. He could have died, I could have died. He could have been born with a disorder or even earlier. He very well could have been in the NICU longer. But none of that happened. I agreed to let my body change to protect him and let him grow the moment he was conceived. I will never be the same because of him, and that's not a bad thing.
3) Don't take a single day, a single moment for granted.
A child will only be so little once. They're going to grow and become independent. They're going to be both annoying and cute. Soon they won't want to be snuggled or tolerate "This Little Piggy." I want Caiden to grow up knowing where he started, I hope as he ages the significance of his birth is not lost on him. He turned me into a fighter, a survivor, an advocate, and a mother.
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