My Birth Story Part 1 – Overcoming Preeclampsia

Hello Friends, I have a very special post for you today; I’m finally ready to share the details about the birth of my second child, Ethan James. At the time I am publishing this post, Ethan is a very healthy, happy 18-month-old baby and I am fully recovered. However, the entrance my son made into the world was anything but easy. My body developed a medical condition called preeclampsia, I underwent a very traumatic early labor and then my 4-pound baby was hospitalized in the NICU for seven days. Even while reviewing my notes and writing this, memories resurrect in my mind bringing raw emotion and tears to my eyes. I’ve made the decision to let you, my friends and family and followers, in on a very difficult and personal period of my life, and also to make this blog post searchable to anyone who suffers or has suffered from preeclampsia with hopes to provide insight, support, and empathy.

Before we dive in, a note to let me caution to anyone reading who may be pregnant or wishing to become pregnant one day – Do Not be scared by this post; I hope to comfort you in that I had a rare experience and still came through with a healthy and happy baby, and you will too!  And finally, although I normally like to post on more lighthearted topics, I believe this to be an important one and as with all of my life experiences I will endeavor to find humor and beauty in the journey, so here goes… 

Preface

If the birth of Ethan was a novel, this would be the preface: My first child, Maia, born 3 years earlier, was a walk in the park, as much as pushing something that large through something that small can be, anyway.  Everything happened according to plan.  I mean it was SO planned, that Maia was born on her EXACT due date.  Not kidding.  Normal pregnancy, water broke, admitted to the hospital, contracted, epidural, vaginal delivery to a 7-pound healthy baby girl.  The reason I write about this first, is that in my mind, I had high expectations for my next labor.  Now, I know that every mother warns you that not all births are the same; I didn’t expect an exact play-by-play, but I did NOT anticipate the difficulties that followed.  And let me be real here, I am not some all-out natural woman hoping to deliver drug-free in a field of daisies or in a bubble bath by candlelight.  For those of you who are – my hat’s off to you – but I am not among your company.  I had a very simple birth plan: a vaginal birth with an epidural and little-to-no other outside medication.  I got two out of three – vaginal birth and an epidural.  But I was given practically every drug in that hospital to make it happen. 

Pregnancy

I was fortunate, the first two trimesters for Ethan and Maia were very similar and textbook.  The third trimester was when I noticed things starting to go south with Ethan.  I began to gain weight rapidly and my feet swelled up.  But, considering these are normal pregnancy symptoms, I just assumed I had it easy with my first… and maybe consumed a few too many cupcakes with my second.  At my 35-week appointment (for those of you not familiar, babies are considered due at 40) I received the first real warning sign: my normally low blood pressure very high.  My OB suspected I may be pre-eclamptic (more on this later). She told me to buy a home blood pressure monitor and to test myself several times a day and if it read higher than 140/90 to call her.  Which it did, 4 days later.  When I called her, she said, paraphrasing, “Go to the hospital.  They’ll probably just test you and send you back home.”  Nope.  My bloodwork came back positive for preeclampsia.  And then I heard the scariest thing a soon-to-be mom can hear one month before she’s due: We’re going to induce you NOW. 

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Mid-Post Rant

OK, here’s something I just have to get this off my chest.  With my first birth, my last day of work was Friday, I went into labor Monday.  I had ZERO time off before baby was born.  With my second birth, I thought I was so smart and, tricking fate, I told my boss that I’d be leaving a month early to rest and prepare for the baby.  Guess what folks, Round Two, my last day of work was Friday, I went into labor Monday.  $%&!  I mean, I was so fully relying on that time that I didn’t even have my hospital bag packed or the bassinette set up…yada yada yada.   My husband had just put in the infant car seat, thank God, but I was NOT prepared to give birth so early.  (Hint to any of you upcoming mothers – Don’t be This Girl; be ready by month 7!)  Okay, I’m done and I feel better, thank you. 

Preeclampsia

Not being a doctor, this is what I’ve been told and researched about preeclampsia.  There is no ‘cure’ and not much is known about it (helpful, right?).  If you are diagnosed with it and left untreated, you might get seizures, or eclampsia.  It happens when a pregnant woman’s placenta begins to be at odds with the host, AKA mother.  The mother and baby are not symbiotic anymore.  If no action is taken, either the baby/placenta continue to develop and the mother declines or vice versa.  Putting it in perspective, if I was not admitted to a hospital, or say, I gave birth a hundred years ago, most likely neither of us would have survived.  Even now, I read a statistic stating preeclampsia resulted in 46,900 deaths in 2015 alone.  Praise Jesus and modern medicine for my success story!  Once diagnosed, there is really only one ultimate course of action – separate the baby and mother or, essentially, induce labor to get the baby OUT. 

Labor Day 1 

Needless to say, I was pretty shocked and terrified to be induced so early.  Besides having swollen feet, I felt absolutely fine.  With all the hospital technology and medications available to me, the doctors were relatively certain that once the baby was born, even at 35 weeks, he would survive and finalize any developmental issues in the NICU.  The question was HOW to get the baby out.  The easiest answer for the doctors was a cesarean surgery birth.  But I was adamant in avoiding this and my OB agreed to let me “try” to deliver but they would intervene if things took a turn for the worse.  Which they did. 

The first order of business was to lower my sky-high blood pressure.  I was set up for an IV – the first of many – and the doctors tried 2 different drugs.  Neither worked.  The third drug, Magnesium, made me incredibly nauseous and I immediately vomited.  The nurse told me that I had to continue this drug for the next 24 hours with no food or water.  (!!)  Nurses came in every 20 minutes throughout the night to check my progress and my blood pressure and give me random shots and take blood. Twice they checked my cervix and dilation which indicated zero progress.  So, they gave me another drug to advance the process. Needless to say, I did not enjoy a restful night.   Just for fun, as I’m writing this, I’ll count the drugs I was given and turn it into a game.  You count too.  I’m up to at least 4.

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Labor Day 2 – Monday

9:00 AM – My OB arrived and changed up the plan. Thank God!  (Hitherto, I had been at the mercy of the hospital staff – competent and caring people, but very ‘by the book’).   She decided I had been tortured enough and ended my MG drip and allowed me to eat breakfast and drink coffee. Hallelujah, coffee never tasted so good.  She gave the order to start me on low dose Pitocin IV to induce labor.  Throughout the rest of the morning staff monitored me and checked my cervix for dilation. 

1:00 PM – My OB returned and said that I still hadn’t shown progress.  She gave my cervix a ‘massage’ (not the pleasant kind) which brought me to 2 centimeters and she increased the PT dosage. Throughout the rest of the afternoon I felt contractions but they weren’t too painful. 

It was now Monday afternoon and I also have a 3-year old, Maia, which requires attention.  Luckily my mother-in-law stayed home with her the previous night and took her to daycare in the morning, while my husband remained with me at the hospital. We made plans to have her pick Maia up and bring her to the hospital to have dinner with us, and then take her home.  While we were just finishing up our dinner, my OB arrived to check on me.  And this is where things took a turn for the worse…

I was still measuring only 2 cm so my OB decided to break my water and insert a monitor…and then PANIC ensued.  She couldn’t detect the baby’s vitals.  Suddenly SIX nurses entered and forced me into all kinds of crazy positions on the bed to try to calm the baby down.  Everyone was shouting different directions.  The OB rattled off a myriad of technical words at a rapid pace and through the commotion, the only thing I understood was SURGERY.  Meanwhile, my husband, mother-in-law and daughter were 5 feet away watching this in horror.  As calmly as I could, I said something like, “It’s time to go sweetheart, I love you and I’ll see you tomorrow,” and my husband ushered everyone out the door.  The doctor then ordered to shut off the PT IV (the drug to induce the labor) and give me a different drug (I think we’re at 6 now!) ASAP to STOP the contractions.  And amidst the chaos, I just began to

Pray.

And breathe.

And Pray some more.

And project calming thoughts onto the Baby and the Doctor and the hospital staff.

Eventually the baby’s vitals returned to normal.  The pace of the doctor’s voice slowed from 90 MPH to 60, but still concerned with my preeclampsia, requested the PT IV, again, to resume contractions.  At this point I just felt like a lab rat – let’s just try everything and see what works! 

After 2 hours of painful contractions, I was finally allowed (or ordered, I can’t remember) to get an epidural – Ahhhhh!  Relief!  Cue the cherubim choir!  I was able to get some much needed “sleep” – used loosely, of course, since the nurses came in every hour or so to check on baby and rotate me like chicken on a rotisserie spit.  (By the way, I’m not complaining, just recounting. The nurses and doctors were all looking out for our best interests and I am eternally grateful.) 

Labor Day 3

3:00 am – I began to feel the painful contractions even with the epidural, so they increased the dose.  Then, after 48 hours of labor, I went from 3 cm dilated to 10 incredibly fast and the nurse called the doctor to recommend pushing.  The doctor and at least 6 nurses returned in a flash.  I later learned that this new team was the NICU team, anticipating a preemie baby with potential health issues.  By this time my privates were basically a tourist attraction. With my first baby, there was only 1 doctor, 1 nurse and my husband in the room.  Speaking of my husband, I should mention that after he saw his mother and our daughter delivered safely home, he returned, and was a model recipient of dirty looks… and probably a derogatory comment, or two.  

After a long speech from my doctor ‘allowing’ me to push and granting my request for a vaginal birth, while preparing me for a c-section, should things go wrong, I began active labor.

I pushed through 2 contractions and baby Ethan arrived! Just like that! 

After 3 DAYS, the actual birth was pretty anti-climactic.   I guess one advantage of an 8-month baby is that his head is pretty small and easy – well, easier – to push out.  The NICU staff took him to a small station they wheeled into the room and announced that he weighed 4 pounds 6 ounces.  After a quick check, they apparently deemed him healthy enough to return to me, for which I am forever grateful. 

Then the doctor placed this teeny, tiny bright red human on my chest, skin to skin, and it was like a dam was broken – my tears just started flowing.  For what felt like eternity, remaining brave, strong, and calm, I let the façade collapse and surrendered to my emotions.  For a moment, the pain of the last several days was gone, eclipsed by the magic of my new baby boy. It. Is. Finished.  So I assumed… 

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If I thought these past three days were difficult, the next seven days would be deemed pure torture.  I was only allowed 30 short minutes with my precious baby, before he was wheeled away to the NICU, only 2 floors away, but what would feel like galaxies.

(Again, spoiler alert – I am healthy and baby Ethan is healthy, Hooray!) 

But this ends My Birth Story, Part 1.  Stay tuned for Part 2, where I will describe my remaining battle with preeclampsia, Ethan’s developmental struggle in the NICU, and my post-partum emotional journey.

Final Thoughts

If you have arrived on this blog post because you or someone you know has preeclampsia, do not worry.  You have internet, which means you have access to a hospital, and you and your baby will be A-Ok!  Though I don’t regret it, I probably could have avoided a lot of the drama by scheduling a C-Section; so that’s something for you to consider.  And it’s wise to cast aside any thoughts of an at-home birth.  Hospital’s the way to go – one med or hundreds; anything to keep you and your baby healthy.  By the way, did you play the game?  I received over 8 different drugs through IVs or shots.  And there were several more over the next few days. 

It took a long time for me to come to peace with Ethan’s birth.  Up until now, it was Too Soon.  For over a month, I admittedly lived in a self-pitying state, complaining that I was robbed of the last month of my pregnancy and at-home “nesting time.”  Feeling sorry for myself over my unplanned early birth and then delivering a preemie NICU baby, worrying day in and day out over his health.  And finally, my own post-partum blues and recovery.  Now, especially amidst this turbulent time with COVID, I want to go back and slap myself and scream, “You are alive!  You have the most beautiful baby boy!  Life is such a gift!”  My story has a happy ending but I am well aware that many similar stories do not, and my heart goes out to all mothers everywhere, who have been through the miracle of birth – with happy outcomes and not so happy ones, I say to you, You are Amazing, Brave, and Strong.  Congratulations!

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After recovering from my short stint of grief, I was filled with 3 predominant emotions:

Gratitude

I am so frickin’ grateful that I have been blessed with two healthy children.  And that I’ve been allowed to experience these gifts that life has to offer – the gift of pregnancy, labor and motherhood. 

Pride

At first, I chastised and berated myself, afterall, my own baby rejected me  (more on this in the next post).  But now I’ve not only come to peace with it, I feel so much pride in my body – a vessel that underwent a routine birth to a baby girl, and overcame a Hellish birth to a baby boy.  I am a champion that lived to “tell the tale” of both. 

Relief

And the final emotion, I feel RELIEF, that I have one girl and one boy and that I never have to do this again!  If there was ever a time where I thought about 3 Little La Fontaines, that ship has sailed. And my husband loves to remind me of this, whenever a little baby fever kicks in.

 That’s it for now, thank you for reading my story!  Stay tuned for Part 2!

If you have had Preeclampsia and had any similar experiences, comment below – I would love to discuss.  Or if you share any thoughts about birth, babies or the NICU, please comment too.  And lastly, if you know anyone who may benefit from reading this post, please forward this link to them.  Thank you!