Welp. Took just over two years to write but not a moment too late or a moment too soon [God's timing is perfect]. I actually wrote everything down on a blog post of the journey about 8 weeks deep on bed rest and somehow it didn't save and everything was deleted. I was so upset that all my thoughts and feelings were erased. I know now though it must of been because God wanted me to do it differently; when it was all finished. I had thought about posting the video of his birth on his first birthday, but I watched it with Andrew that night and was extremely anxious while watching it. I knew it wasn't time so I just let the thought pass for the time being. I have been seeing a new counselor for the past 5 months or so and we have been targeting different events in which I have PTSD from. Of course that covers Fitz's birth, the time on bedrest and the NICU. We started a few weeks before his birthday, focusing on the target of his birth and I had a pull again to edit his birth video. It still was super hard for me to watch and when I am editing you have to watch the clips over and over again. I had multiple times I had to stop editing for a few days and take a break. I would get so overwhelmed and was so anxious I was almost on the verge of a panic attack. In conjunction with the counseling I did every week and continuing to try to go back to watch and edit the video piece by piece, I finally had a break through. Hence, why I am finally able to post it now. I ball every time during that part of the video, and if I hear the song on the radio. It is much better now though when I relieve those memories, I am able to let tears out. Instead of holding it in and feel extremely anxious. Now, it's just an overwhelming sense of emotion. A huge relief of all the feelings that were pent up for months and months. More about that in a few minutes but here's the detailed story for those of you who want it...
[I first want to say sorry that this post ended up being so long. I really didn’t intend for that but I honestly want to write down all of the memories I do have from it. Partly for me, partly for Fitz when he is older. Most of all though, I am hoping for somebody in my situation to Google and research just like I did and come upon this post. I hope to give people hope. I hope to also be able to give tips to help others become successful and hopefully help raise the success rate for the doctors to share with their patients. I can’t claim to know if any of these things truly helped or not, but the only thing I can say is with God, all things are possible. The good outcome, the bad outcome, and the worst case scenario outcome would all be made possible to endure with God. I can also say that wether things ended the way I wanted, or differently, I would of at least know I did all I could. Lastly, I want to say because these things don’t hurt to try, I just want to put the information down so if somebody wants to try all that I did, at least they can reference this. If you’re not interested in all these details just scroll down to the bottom for the video!]
I guess lets kind of start at the beginning. On May 28, 2016, we were having a normal day and headed to dinner with some friends. I had been having a little of what I thought was watery discharge for a few days and it had gotten a little worse that day but I thought nothing of it because it was barely different. I remember thinking twice about it but then thought I had remembered it in the second trimester during my pregnancy with Anderson. I was 17 weeks 5 days pregnant on the 28th of May, we had just found out Fitz was a boy the week before. I still was having some slight spotting and bleeding from the subchorionic hemorrhage I had that started at 5 weeks pregnant. [I had one with Anderson's pregnancy as well that also started at five weeks pregnant]. We are sitting down at one of our favorite restaurants and were in the middle of eating when I felt something like a gush of what either was pee or blood. I rushed into the bathroom and when I sat down it felt and looked like I was peeing but I knew almost right away that it wasn’t actually pee. When it kind of stopped, I rushed back to the table and told Andrew that we needed to go, something wasn't right. As we got in the car I informed Andrew what had happened and told him I wanted to call my dad. He is a family practice doctor and I thought I might as well run it by him before I do anything because I didn't want to make a big deal out of nothing. We stopped at Home Depot on the way home and Andrew ran in. I stayed in the car and called my dad. My dad said it sounded like maybe my water broke and I should call the on-call OB. While Andrew was still in Home Depot, I called the OB they told me I needed to go into triage because it didn't sound good. I called my dad back and they met us at home to take care of Anderson as we went to the hospital.
We got checked into triage and as I was waiting I had a little bit more fluid come out which made the test of swabbing easier. They said we would get results back as to what was happening pretty quickly. They ordered a ultrasound and I remember being so terrified but also watching the monitor like a hawk to see if I could tell what was wrong. I think it was my way of starting to prepare myself for the doctors answer before they even had to tell me. I held my breath until I at least saw his heart was still beating. His heart was beating completely normal. What a relief. Other than that I couldn't really make out what we were looking at like I normally could on ultrasounds. During the ultrasound I lost a lot of fluid. I was laying in a puddle as the ultrasound tech pressed on my belly to try to get measurements. I remember each press more would come out and I would squeeze Andrew's hand. With my bad luck the machine had to be restarted half way through and he had to do the whole thing a second time. At that point I was ready to grab it off my tummy and tell him he didn’t need to try a second time. I should of spoke up and told him to stop all together, or at least to stop pressing that hard. I did tell them that when he was pressing I was loosing more and I was in a puddle but he said he had to get a accurate reading and this is what he had to do. When I had gotten up the nurse and Andrew were shocked with how much fluid was underneath me. They cleaned the bed up and I was able to get back in and wait for the doctor. I didn't dare move more than I had to at this point.
The first person actually to let us know was the nurse. I will never forget this poor nurse. She was the sweetest, and she reminded me of my cousin Alyssa who is a nurse. Her mannerisms and her smile reminded me so much of her. I felt I was in great hands with her. I remember laying there after she told me what happened. I started balling, she was crying and you could tell it was the difficult news she didn't want to have to give us. I was thinking how hard it must of been for her. I have cousins and family members who are nurses. I know these kinds of days are their worst days when they have to give somebody bad news. She told us my water had broken, that the test stripped confirmed it was amniotic fluid. They told us the doctor would be to our bed in a little bit to go over it in more detail and talk about our options. When the doctor came to us they explained what had happened is called PPROM [Preterm premature rupture of the membranes]. It happens when your water breaks before 37 weeks pregnant. They explained I had about 4 cm of fluid in after the rupture, and normal for 17 weeks pregnant is about 10cm [Low is 5cm]. The doctor explained that 95% of people go into labor within a week of their water breaking. We were told until I am 24 weeks along [which was about 6.5 weeks away] is the earliest they usually can deliver where the baby has a chance at being viable for life outside the womb. Anything before that the chances pretty much 0. The other concern was I ruptured at 17 weeks in which 16-24weeks is when the baby develops their lungs to be able to survive outside of the womb. [That's why they aren't able to really save baby's before 24 weeks unless they are wrong on how far along the baby is by a week or so. There are baby's that sometimes make it at 22 and 23 weeks, but for the most part the doctors recommend 24 weeks to be the best chance. I think its like 50% chance of survival at 24 weeks or something.] They highly recommended that I be sent to a different hospital, in which they could induce me this early on, so I could deliver him. That option would mean he wouldn't live, because he was only 17 weeks gestation. I said I needed to think about what decision I was going to make. I didn't feel right choosing his fate. He was moving, I could feel him moving in my tummy every few minutes. Even stronger than I had before because with the less amount of fluid it was more dry and so the movements were even stronger. I kept thinking to myself, his heart beat is completely normal how do I essentially choose to end his life when it seems he’s completely normal in there. How do I choose to go through labor knowing he wasn't going to live? I asked about my chances on waiting to see if I did go into labor. They said the reason they don't really recommend that is because the risk of infection is very great to the mother and the baby when the sac is broken. When your water breaks that means there is an open hole to the sac in which bacteria could get up in the fetus and it would quickly infect the baby. If it did that we wouldn't know until I showed a fever which would mean I wasn't far from or already would of developed sepsis. Obviously, then would come septic shock and you can figure out the rest. After the doctor told us these options and recommended I induce labor, Andrew and I asked if we could go outside and get some air. I was feeling super anxious and I needed out.
Andrew wheeled me out for some fresh air and we found a bench outside of the hospital. I remember smelling the scent of rain as we came out of the hospital; it must of rained at some point while we were in there. [Now, whenever I smell rain, it immediately takes me back to that night.] Andrew laid down on the cement bench outside the hospital and looked up at the stars. As I sat in the wheel chair, I did the same. I cried. I cried a lot. We had a conversation about what we should do. I expressed I wouldn't feel right inducing. I felt I couldn't make that decision myself. We decided to say a prayer for an answer of what to do. We looked up at the dark sky and prayed like we have never prayed before. We asked for guidance, and for protection. We prayed that we would make the right decision. After that prayer we decided to go inside and ask if there was any more information on success stories in this type of situation where the babies lived. If there was a chance we tried bed rest what our chances looked like then. I chose to stay the night in the hospital for them to watch me and for us to have some time to study information and medical probability of success with PPROM. I remember one sentence so clearly on the print out one of the nurses gave me, [which happened to be Andrew's assistant’s step sister]. It said, "<1% chance of survival if water breaks before 24 weeks". That didn't really give me much hope. I tried to do some of my own research as well which is where I found a Facebook group about PPROM. They had some success stories, some stories where it didn't end up how they would of hoped, and some where the babies had to be in the NICU for a long time and had complications but they lived. When we woke up after a night of sleep in the hospital, it felt like a nightmare that I had to tell myself was actually true. We talked some more with doctors and nurses and at that point came to our decision. We decided we could not make the choice for ourselves. After research we found if I took a round of antibiotics after my water broke that could help us get farther along on bed rest as it would help reduce the chance of infection occurring. We requested a round of antibiotics upon discharge and let them know we wanted to try bed rest to see how long we could make it. I felt for me to not look back with any regret, I needed to know I tried everything. If I tried my hardest and it failed, at least I would of tried. I knew at that point I could sleep easy even if it didn’t work out the way I hoped. I remember thinking of the alternative to try to help in making my decision; if I would induce and pretty much choose to end his life and I would of never known if he would of been fine. It was super scary going home with the reality that there was a 95% chance I would deliver that next week. We were told to check my temp often to make sure we caught the first sign of infection and rush back to the hospital so they could induce me at that point. We were also told to look for signs of labor or if I didn't feel movement. Another two huge concerns for me were cord prolapse and placental abruption. If any of these things were to occur it was over. If labor happened, any of the above issues took place, if I got a fever [even if it wasn’t an infection there and maybe a cold or a flu, they wouldn’t take the time to figure that out] it would all be over. One wrong move, one false fever of any kind of sickness our fight was done. If anything happened for that 6.5 weeks until 24 weeks, there was 0 chance he would live. With my water breaking as early as it did, he had <1% chance of survival even if we made it to 24 weeks, but at least he had a chance if we delivered past 24.
Upon being discharged, the plan was that I would have a doctor appointment once a week until 24 weeks. At 24 weeks, I would be admitted to the hospital until I labored or if I reached 34 weeks I would be induced. They don't usually let PPROM patients go past 34 weeks because at that point the risk of infection to the baby and mother outweighs keeping the baby in the womb to grow. If no complications happened and I remained on bed rest that was great for making our chances higher, but it still wouldn't mean our baby boy would live. There were no guarantees. There was no way they could tell on ultrasound if his lungs were developing or not. Nobody could give me an answer on how he would be; if he would die or if he would live a happy life with no issues. Obviously, my hope was that he would live and there would be no complications to me or Fitz, but I didn't know if it was actually attainable.
That weekend my water broke was the weekend I was going to buy the furniture for the baby's room. It was Memorial Day weekend and it was one of like two sales a year that RH Baby has. I had his room planned before we were ever pregnant with him. I was so extremely torn with wether to order it or not. On one hand we didn't know if we would even be making it a week on bed rest, but if this baby was going to come home, I wanted this furniture. After a lot of tears from feeling torn and upset about the fact that I was even in this position, Andrew and I decided to order it. I felt like it was me making a physical goal. I felt like it was me being determined to put my baby in this crib, and use this dresser for his clothes. It was putting my Faith out there for God to see I was taking the step with Him. [Plus, I kept telling myself if the worst case scenario happens, I will return it and beg them to take it back if it was over the 30 day mark]. Earlier that day before we decided to order it, my pastor and his wife came over to pray with us. He was the same pastor that baptized me and did Anderson's dedication. I had done Bible studies with him in grade school. I trust in him and I really felt his prayer was what we needed. It was an emotional prayer and I remember feeling so close to God during it. I felt He was there in the room with all of us, listening to my pastors words of request and comfort. My whole family was around us, praying over us. We were all crying. My pastors wife told me a verse as she sat there with me and it became the verse I recited to myself over and over again while on bed rest. "Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me." -Psalm 23:4.
Every week when appointments would roll around I would be so excited. I first of all was excited to be able to be outside of my room. While on bed rest at home I either was in my room and every once in a while would walk slowly and carefully to the movie room. On appointment days, I would get out of my room and get to feel the sun shining and smell the fresh air. I would get to see the outside world and some times we would take pit stops on our way home and spend the rest of the day at my parents house on the couch until it was time to go home. It was a treat for a environment change. I always had such high hopes too that they would do an ultrasound and say you sealed up! The fluid is now normal, everything is perfect. I was always looking for that positive 180 degree change. I would be so positive that today was going to be the day I got good news and could wake up from this terrible dream. Everything the doctors would say to us at every appointment was negative. It wasn't because they wanted to be negative or they wanted to scare us but because that is what they know based on PPROM studies. It was the reality. My doctor had never saw a successful story in this scenario with my water breaking as early as it did. Each week he was surprised I was still pregnant. He would say whatever your doing, keep doing it, because so far it has gotten you this far. They would go over again if we did make it and if he somehow did live, what kind of complications he could have at birth and/or for the rest of his life. I would still leave disappointed and scared, wondering if I had made the right decision. Would I be able to live with myself if I knew I chose for him to live, and his life was extremely tough and had very serious complications because of it? The only time I would lose hope was the rest of the day after my doctor appointments. I would pray pray pray to have my spirits picked up. For me to believe in what God can do. To not be scared by the complications I was told he would most likely have. I prayed that I was making the right decision and that I was trusting in Him, but if something was going to be wrong please show me a sign. While on bed rest at home, my AFI (amniotic fluid index) didn't change for that whole 6.5 weeks. There was also a concern that they weren't able to see the spine good on the ultrasound. With the low fluid it makes it hard to be able to do the 16 week fetal developmental ultrasound. My blood test had come back from the 12th week appointment and had given us a chance of 1 in 10 that he would have Spina Bifida. [I had the same test come positive with Anderson as well with the same chances but got an ultrasound 4 days later to confirm everything was good]. That was definitely in the back of my mind as a worry, but what was more of a worry was if he would even live or not. They would just continue going over all the things that could be wrong with my son.
There were plenty of things I was told could and most likely would happen. To name a few, cerebral palsy was a huge concern of theirs. The earlier gestation he was born, the more likely it was that he would have it. Another concerning issue for him was him being born where his legs and arms were not able to move. If there isn't enough fluid while they are developing in the womb they develop without the ability to function their limbs properly. They explained that if that happened he would be born with his legs and arms stuck “folded up”. He would have to do physical therapy to be able to normally move his arms and legs. The concern of that issue wasn't as bad to me because I was told with therapy that could fix that particular complication. He was also at high risk for brain bleeds and other mental retardations due to premature birth and trauma from birth and low fluid. Of course the most obvious complication was his lungs, if they were too badly damaged but did work enough, would they lead to other life threatening issues. After every doctor appointment I spent the rest of the day crying [aka: trying to stop myself from crying] and sad. I would feel so deflated. The next morning after appointment follow ups, I would be back. Back to feeling so positive and determined it would be a successful outcome. I would often tell myself that even though the doctors are basing their thoughts of his outcome on medical studies, they don't know what my God can do. Any time I had doubt, or felt scared of all the negative possible outcomes, I would tell myself with God, all things are possible. That any outcome they are explaining to me is a medical fact, but God doesn't do things based on medical facts. He can heal the non-cureable, he can make a blind man see, a crippled man walk. I would be picked up for the remaining days till my next appointment, of course still having moments of fear and doubts, but nothing prayer couldn't fix.
Being on bed rest, I had lots of time to think. Which was kind of a difficult thing because when you are in this situation with that much time on your hands to think about all the different possibilities of the outcome of your sons life, it could legit make me insane as I am sure it would most people. There was this one thought that often weighed heavy on me. I felt like I had to choose his future. If I chose to be induced [I could technically choose up until 24 weeks because of this complication], what if he would of been fine? If I chose to stay on bed rest and he was born and had a super tough life with obstacle after obstacle could I live with knowing I chose that for him? I felt the weight of his life on my shoulders. It was hard to reel in my thoughts but that's when I prayed. I would pray often to stop the thoughts, and calm myself. For Him to bring me peace in this situation and to lead the way. I remember one of the turning points for peace was when I prayed after a doctor appointment. I wanted to kind of make a deal with God. I asked Him if something was to not be right with Fitz, if something was going to be wrong where he would have a really tough life, let me go into labor before 24 weeks. I could not decide to be induced myself but if I went into labor, and it wasn't able to be stopped, that was God's plan. It was my sign to be at peace with the outcome either way because God is the only one that truly knew what was best for my son. I would get through it even if he didn’t make it, knowing that was what God wanted for me and him. He wouldn't give me something I couldn't handle, and if he let my son be taken from me it was because there would of been a worse outcome if He would of let him stay. I prayed if I made it past 24 weeks, that I knew it was going to be okay. I knew my son would live a happy life and that God had a purpose for bringing us this far. I felt those first 6.5 weeks at home on bed rest were completely in God's hands [the whole entire thing was but you know what I mean], and if I was to make it to 24 weeks, it was my turn to push harder and do the extra work that was necessary. Without Him, I wouldn't of made it one minute, one hour, one day on bed rest.
I am honestly not a person who can sit still. I always have things going on. I'm always busy wether I like it or not. I went from doing everything for Anderson, being the primary care giver to not being able to hold her or even change her diaper. Every movement I made, more fluid would come out. Every time the fluid would leak, I would have this feeling of fear, this feeling of no not more. I can't let more come out, he needs with him. Was that it? Will he not have anymore in there now? I wanted to stop it from coming out so bad. I wanted to be there for Anderson and take care of her like I normally would, but I couldn't. Well I could, but I couldn't for the sake of Fitz. It was super hard mentally to wrap my brain around what I shouldn't do. I felt physically fine. Mentally fine to do these things. I had to tell myself I couldn't do anything. I had to tell myself I couldn't get up to get myself water or just walk down the stairs. Even though I was physically able to, anything could induce labor or cause something to go wrong.
While laying there on bed rest I reached out to two doctors. One was Anderson's pediatrician who happened to be mine while growing up [and still technically is]. I trust him completely. I called him and told him what had happened. I asked him if he had ever heard of a successful outcome in this situation or if he had any advice. I can't remember what his answer was about out chance of success but I know he was reassuring in my choice to stay on bed rest. He was what I was looking for a doctor to tell me. He said it would be tough but each day I could stay on bed rest was a better chance of him living. Each day I was able to keep him in, was another week less in the NICU and a chance closer to having him make it. His biggest advice he told me that stuck with me was DON'T DO ANYTHING YOU DON'T ABSOLUTELY HAVE TO DO. He said wait for somebody to bring you food and water. He told me not to get up to get something just to get it. He said to wait for somebody to be able to get it for me. The least amount of movement possible would help me not go into labor and would keep as much fluid as we could in. He said if my phone cord was on the ground, to wait until somebody could pick it up for me. That really stuck with me and I kept that thought in my mind every day. The only times I would get up was to pee or to shower. I showered about every other day sometimes every third day while on bed rest at home. I would hold my pee until I absolutely had to go and I would get up and pee and if there was something that would involve no movement on the way back to the bed to grab, I would grab it. If it required me to bend or squat, it wasn't possible for me [again it was, but it could risk Fitz's life] so I would leave those things. When I would shower, I would need assistance. I couldn't dry myself off without somebody helping me, so I would wash my hair and soap what I could and then Andrew and Anderson would help dry me off. I will never forget Anderson helping Andrew dry me off. It was like she knew I desperately needed her and dads help. [Anderson was 16 months when my water broke]. Before anybody would leave the house, I would have to be stocked with water, food or anything else I needed to help entertain me. The night before each day, depending on our families schedules and Andrew's, we would have to figure out who was going to watch Anderson. Depending on who could watch her, Andrew would drop Anderson off at their house and I would be told when somebody would be back to help me. My favorite was when my mom or Andrew would come watch Anderson in my bedroom. That way I could still feel like I was with her and getting to care for her even though I physically had to not help. On times nobody was going to be there for a stretch of a few hours, they would get me all settled and prepared for them to leave, but it was always scary when I was left by myself. I felt what if something went wrong and I was all alone. Would I be able to call for help? We tried to reduce the time I was alone, which meant sometimes Andrew came and worked from bed beside me. Our world was legit flipped upside down and everybody around us [especially us three], had to figure out a new way of life at the drop of hat and all seamlessly. We all felt like I couldn't laugh, cry or feel stressed because what if any of those things would start labor. We all did what we had to do, including Anderson who handled it so extremely well for a 16 month old.
One day not long after I woke up for the day, Andrew went down stairs to make me breakfast and I got up to go pee. I typically have low blood pressure but when I am pregnant I have even lower blood pressure. I also can sometimes get low sugar. I am not quite sure what went wrong, but I made it to the doorway of our bathroom that morning and my legs and arms turned into noodles. I have passed out before and so I knew what was coming and I fought it as hard as I could. I knew if I had passed out and fell forwards on my belly the chances of hurting the baby and losing more fluid was much greater than if I fell backwards. I tried with all the might I had left to try to grab on to the wall to soften my fall. I wasn't able to grab the wall as my arms were losing to passing out and wouldn’t function to grasp. While still continuing to fight passing out, I was able to somehow first fall on my knees and fall from there backwards onto the ground. Of course Andrew came running up the stairs, so afraid of the loud boom he had heard from downstairs. He was shocked to see me there laying on the floor. Luckily, because I was able to somehow fight the passing out, I was at least able to tell him I don't know what went wrong but that I had pretty much passed out. I was immediately terrified. Was this going to make me go into labor? Was something wrong? Thankfully, I had my nurse practitioners phone number and I texted her right away. She told us as long as I still felt movement, no more bleeding or not excess amounts of fluid that probably everything was okay. She said if we had any concerns to follow up at the hospital in triage. That day was a stressful one for me. I was really scared that our fight was going to end that day. Thankfully, God watched over both me and Fitz, and brought us through another curve ball.
Again, with so much time on bed rest I will be honest I had a lot of time to research. I looked for any bit of hope I could find. The two PPROM groups I found on Facebook I would scour different post and search for key words to help me cling to positive outcomes. I would search what a baby would look like at each week to prepare myself if I did labor what I would see. I found plenty of things that actually I feel like helped us get as far as we did. One of those things were the PPROM vitamin regimen. I have linked it if anybody needs it or wants to see what it is, but on top of my prenatal and fish oil I began taking all of these other vitamins a day. Included also on that regimen, was the big tip to help hopefully increase amniotic fluid by drinking tons of water. I would drink and drink and drink until I thought I couldn’t drink anymore. We purchased one of those super large Yeti cups, we would put ice in there and just keep refilling my water. It was one of the only things I felt like I could do to help the situation even though the ultrasounds didn't show it was helping, I was hopeful that would change every week because of it. Another thing we had read about was drinking gelatin. I still can't believe I did this. I literally dreaded it each day. I tried to drink one glass of gelatin a day. For me being a vegetarian it was pretty much one of the grossest things I have ever had to do. It tasted horrible, and I also didn't see this work very well because the ultrasounds didn't confirm water increasing but I had to do whatever I could do to "help" even though it wasn't showing. Again with the theme of at least knowing I tried everything, it couldn’t hurt right?! I was also thankful for the job that I had started right before my water broke. I started working under a contractor we knew as their interior designer. I still wanted to help with the one project I started that I was very invested in already. The contractor and client were nice enough to let me continue with the project. The day before my water broke I walked the property for the first time before demo day. I never once got to see it be worked on, but after I was released from the hospital a few weeks later I got to walk it completely finished. It was so awesome to see what I was able to do from a bed and it gave me something to focus on besides all this other tough life stuff. It was my escape and really helped that first 6.5 weeks on bed rest fly by. I did a few other things like color, online shopping, and played Sims. You know all the fun things you never get to do on a regular basis [everything but online shopping; sorry Andrew]. This computer desk for the bed did wonders while at home and in the hospital! I recommend it definitely for any bed resting individual but also if you just like to get work done in your bed, I have definitely used it since!
A week before I was admitted to the hospital my OB had me transferred over to a Perinatal's office. It was the doctor group I would be seeing while on bed rest at the hospital so I was able to do a check up, ultrasound and kind of go over the last 5.5 weeks with the specialist. He was encouraging as he had seen a few more cases like mine, but I think if I remember correctly he was quite amazed I had made it that far on bed rest from when I ruptured. The ultrasound tech was able to confirm that Fitz's spine looked fine, which was a relief. Any positive news was great news to me. The AFI was still hovering about 3.75-4cm. Just below what they consider low, but not completely gone. They did remind me that there was a possibility there was more fluid in there but they can only measure areas that have nothing in them (pockets of fluid). They can’t count what is in his bladder only the pockets around him with no limbs in those pockets. They projected by the measurements of his body, that he didn't weigh a pound yet. They also said that his femur was measuring two weeks behind which was a concern. [Another thing they watched for like a hawk on all these ultrasounds were if they noticed he stopped growing. If he didn't grow enough they would have to induce me and take him out]. They measured other areas to see if he had dwarfism and they confirmed that it didn't look like he fell under that category because all his other measurements were within normal range. That femur though they wanted to keep an eye on because it was behind. They did have a concern about the percentile overall he was measuring in which I think was below the 5th percentile for his gestation. They encouraged me to try to eat more to try to help get his growth and weight up. The doctor also told me what would happen upon admission at the hospital and he did give me a little hope when he told me he thought my son had a chance because he did have some fluid in there to hopefully help his lungs develop with. This was just a opinion of his, but I continued hearing that same thing from my OB, the Perinatal and the other ultrasound techs. There just wasn't a guarantee if it was enough. I felt very comforted by the little bit of positivity he gave me and it was just the push I needed to make that last week on home bed rest before hospital bed rest.
That night before I was leaving for the hospital was a tough one. I was scared to not be home, or be able to come home. Home is such a place of comfort for me, and to think of living in a hospital for 10 weeks scared the crap out of me. Not being able to say goodnight to Anderson before Dad takes her to bed. Not being able to lay beside Andrew. It was nice to know he was there even though we were just sleeping. It's hard to think of leaving your house for 10 weeks and going to check into a hospital for that long. Of course, I was so excited to be able to have made it to 24 weeks, what a huge sigh of relief that was. I mean nothing was guaranteed but at least he had a chance greater than 0. That next morning telling Andrew what things to grab for me as I lay in my bed looking around thinking I was really going to miss this being home. What was my hospital room going to look like? How hard would it be going from seeing Anderson about half of my day to seeing her 1-3 hours a day? I felt it was slow motion as we left. I even took a photo of the front of my house as we pulled out of our driveway as silly as it sounds. I was so nervous to be checked in.
Upon check-in I was immediately given a power glide (a new form of an IV). A power glide is between a regular IV and a port. A power glide is able to stay in for about 28 days before having to be removed and have a another one put in. For a person who is quite afraid of hospitals and doesn't particularly like getting my blood drawn, this idea kind of scared me. Somehow though, [along with the rest of the challenges I faced throughout this journey] God gave me strength. It was especially scary because this power glide is put in with a ultrasound, they have to find the right vein that is big enough in your upper arm and then mark it, numb your arm, and then insert it. The needle was wide and long. I definitely didn't look but once it was in, it was only a little bothersome. I was constantly worried between that being accidentally caught or pulled on and my tummy that Anderson would hurt either one. It kind of hung out and would get caught on my shirts. They had to have one in though in case of an emergency they wouldn't have to be trying to get an IV in at that point. I got an ultrasound right away after getting settled in my room so the doctors could review it before they came and talked to me. It was the first bit of encouraging news I got and it made for my day being made as I was informed my AFI (amniotic fluid index) was up to 7 cm that day! I have no idea how it increased but I wasn't about to question it! I can still totally feel how excited I felt that day. After the ultrasound I met with the perinatal doctor from the group I had met the week before. As well as the NICU doctor to come talk about if I was to go into labor today, our rights and the steps the take for recitation at 24 weeks. He reviewed our records and gave his thoughts on his chances. It was a busy day full of information and tests but most importantly it was the first little glimpse of positive news I got. Even though nothing was for sure and we really couldn't tell anything until his birth, it was the most positive day we had for the last 6.5 weeks. The last thing on the list after check in was the steroid shots for Fitz's lungs. There were two doses supposed to be done 24 hours apart, and after 48 hours if I was to go into labor it would help his lungs and help give him the greatest chance at survival. If any of you have gotten this before you know, it sucks. It hurts so bad. It is a HUGE needle and it is done in your butt cheek. I was so afraid of it but again, I had to do what I had to do so I bit the bullet and I only shed a tear. The effects of the shot though later really made it extra miserable as it made me have heart palpitations that first night in the hospital. If it meant strengthening his lungs though and giving him the best chance, I could take it.
That first week on hospital bed rest was my second worst week on bed rest. The first was the first week on bed rest, and then the second was that week I was admitted. Both times were hard because I had to get use to a new normal. Adjustments are hard but they are even harder when it completely changes your way of life and what your use to [especially when you tend to be an anxious person, exacerbated when change occurs]. Even harder when your afraid of hospitals and now you have to live in one for up to 10 weeks. Through this whole journey I learned to take each moment by moment. Every minute, hour and day was a success. My hospital room was small, I didn't have a view of the sky, or of the sun, or even of outside. Just a wall across the way. The other rooms were filled and I requested to be switched to a bigger room if one became available. Before being admitted to the hospital, I purchased a foam pillow top with a cover to be put on the hospital bed. I remembered from after Anderson's birth how bad my back and buns felt after just 3 days in a hospital bed, I had to be prepared to make myself more comfortable there if it was going to be up to 10 weeks. I HIGHLY recommend doing this if you will have to do a length stay at a hospital because I believe that helped me be able to stay on bed rest longer. It made the bed SO comfortable [considering circumstances of one butt cheek and leg going numb and then switching to the other side]. After about a few days in that room I was transferred to a bigger room. I was so excited to see what this room would be like and if it would have a view. It was just a tad bigger, and it did have a different view but this view was only to window to a hallway. It was fun though because I could see people walk by here and there. It still didn't have a view of the sun or sky though. The only way I could see a sliver of the sky was when I would walk to use the bathroom, on my way back if I stopped for just a second and looked as high as I could, I could see a little bit of the sky. I was given wheel chair privileges for 30 minutes a day but I was really nervous to use them. I didn't want to do anything that would make me go into labor. Once a week I did get a wheel chair ride though for my ultrasound and I looked forward to that day of the week every day. Every four hours a nurse would come in and take my temperature, my blood pressure, my respiratory rate and pulse, rain or shine, day or night. They always asked if they could get me anything which was very helpful. They would grab me things from my bag, refill my water, and they would change my sheets on shower day. I had to time my shower days [I only showered about every 4-5 days, trying to limit the time I stood up] when Andrew or my mom could help. I was always nervous because you would be surprised but after just one week on bed rest your strength diminishes quickly. By the time I was on bed rest at the hospital I could stand for about 10 minutes before I would feel like I was going to pass out and my heart would be racing as if I ran a marathon. I needed help getting dressed and so either my mom or Andrew would help assist. On shift change they would listen to my heart and lungs to make sure I wasn't getting pneumonia. My brother came and slept one night there with me and I will always remember that he did that for me. It was nice to have somebody there with me at night, and for somebody to kind of feel what I had to endure. I will never forget the conversations we had and the fact that my brother was the LAST person I thought would ever voluntarily stay at a hospital with somebody. He is the biggest germaphobe like my dad and I just would of never thought he would of done that. He never used my bathroom once the whole time he was there. In the morning he rushed home so he could pee because he didn't want to use the hospital bathroom. He also worse a sweatshirt and pants and socks and shoes the whole night. He was ready for anything but also didn't have to touch his skin to anything in the hospital. It made me laugh and still to this day makes me laugh.
A funny memory that happened while on bed rest there was when I was moved to that second room that was a bit bigger, I had gotten a new bed along with the move. The bed looked old, and made THEE worst sound when I moved it up or down. When your on bed rest, the position of your bed changes often, so it was just extremely unfortunate that it was so loud and squeaky. When my dad came to visit we were joking about it and I showed him how bad it sounded. He happened to have a patient at that time who worked for the company of the bed and he took a video of me in the bed and sent it to him. By the next morning, I had a new bed. The patient had called the hospital and told them to switch out my bed to a newer one. The beds had been upgraded but not sent to this wing of the hospital for some reason. It was a plus that I got a new bed that didn’t squeak. It’s the little things like this when I look back on it that makes you really feel like God has so many things lined up for the good for us even through challenging times. It was this patient’s kindness that I really appreciate and that really makes me thankful for everything God did for us throughout this journey. We truly had many instances where He made beauty out of the not so beautiful.
Another huge tip for hospital bed rest was learning what schedule worked with you and made the days seem shorter. With every day being a success, I clung to 12am when they would change my board to show another day I was successfully still pregnant. I loved when the nurse would change it and I would throw myself a little party in my head for making another day. What I figured out that worked the best for me was sleeping in until about 9-10am even sometimes 11 am if I could. Doing that would help because usually I didn't get visitors until after lunch or in the evening so it would allow me to eat breakfast, get ready for the day by doing some make up if I had the chance for my nurse to bring it over to me. I would also listen to K-LOVE, color and FaceTime Anderson any chance I got. FaceTime was so helpful in making my days go quicker. My mom would FaceTime me and just would prop the phone up so I could watch Anderson play. I even FaceTimed as Andrew swam with Anderson and his parents. As much as I could, I tried to live vicariously through other people. At night after my visitors would leave, I would watch Friends. In the summer it is on Nick at Night until 1 am and so it allowed me to stay up till 1 or 2 in the morning so that I could sleep in later. The only thing that would screw up my routine was every three days I had to have my blood drawn. A lot of the times they would ignore the sign my nurse put on the door [that read to let me sleep and don’t come in unless you know she’s awake] and come barging in at 5 am. They wouldn't take it out of the power glide, so they had to poke me every three days for what they call a type and screen. It confirms your blood type and other things in case an emergency happens and they have to do a transfusion. A lot of times I would call the nurse in right before I was ready to go to sleep and have them take my 4 hour vitals. That way I would have a stretch of 4 hours of sleep, and then more vitals and another stretch of sleep. Every night before I would fall asleep I would put on a Joel O’Steen sermon from YouTube and would listen to it with my eyes closed. Sometimes I would fall asleep as it was playing, sometimes I would listen to the whole thing. I felt like his positive sermons really helped bring me peace and if I did fall asleep, I felt like the positivity and Faith would still be heard even though I was sleeping.
The hospital food sucked, so I would eat breakfast there because that was the least terrible meal, and then after that I would either try to get lunch and dinner delivered or I was lucky enough that either Andrew could bring me some or my mom, or even other family and friends who would stop by. I had snacks to get by in between while waiting for somebody to bring me good food. The hospital nutritionist would provide me Ensures with 20 mg of protein in it and I tried to drink two of those a day. One mid day, another one right before bed. I really hated them as I don't like milk or protein drinks, but I forced myself to drink those for Fitz's sake. They said he needed to weigh more and grow more.
Every day until 28 weeks, I had once a day when they would do fetal monitoring [after 28 weeks they did it twice a day and you'll find out why in a second]. I looked forward to that every day too because I could hear his heart beat. It was stressful though because a few times when he would do a big movement or he must of grabbed the umbilical cord, the nurse would come rushing in and turn me over and try to figure out if they were going to need to send me to a emergency c-section. That didn't happen often, but the three times it happened I was freaking terrified. It happened to be the same nurse every time and it was only nurse I didn't really love while there. The first time it happened, my nurse for the day rushed in tried to quickly find a heart beat, and then clicked the call button inside the bathroom and less than 30 seconds later, all the nurses rushed in. I had oxygen put on me and about a minute or two into it the doctor rushed in and looked at the monitor in which at that point the heart beat was found again and everybody was able to get on with their normal duties but I had to be monitored for the next 5 hours after that. On the morning I turned 28 weeks I had to get a shot called tDap which would hopefully transfer the baby whooping cough immunity. I also had to do the lovely glucose testing. It sucked with Anderson I got heart palpitations for a week because of it. My blood sugar spikes so high and then drops so low too quick, needless to say, I was scared for it this time around. Going with the theme of Brittany's good luck; the nurse told me to drink the whole bottle in which they would come take my blood in a hour. I drank the whole bottle and when the nurse came back she said, "Sorry, I told you to drink the whole bottle but I was only supposed to have you drink half. We will have to redo the drink and test tomorrow." I drank 100 mg of the drink in the five minutes instead of 50 mg and then had to repeat the drink the next day. It really was unfortunate, but I couldn't do anything about it.
They had some nice things they offered in the hospital. Once a week a therapy dog would come visit. I liked those days because I got to talk to the owner of the dog and pet the dog. There was also some ladies that would come by once a week and ask if I needed anything and they would just chat about how my week was. They were part of a religious outreach group. I really appreciated each and every visitor I had while there on bed rest and at home on bed rest. Each visit kept me going, gave me hope and encouraged me more and more. It was nice getting to chat with people and have a little bit of real life visit me in such an unfamiliar place. I feel I have a special relationship with the people who came and visited. They all have such a special place in my heart for taking time out of their lives to come bring me a treat or just have a conversation with me. I looked forward to these visits too which gave me hope for each day. I couldn’t wait till every evening when Andrew and Anderson would come. They sometimes could only stay so long though before Anderson was too tired; it was never enough time with her. She was always such a big girl. She never once cried leaving me there at the hospital, and she LOVED working with the nurses at their desk. She would also eat ice and watch YouTube next to me. That and coloring was about the only things she could do next to me while she visited me. The nurses would come in for my 8pm vitals and check in after shift change and they would take Anderson's vitals too. She loved getting her vitals taken.
One of my favorite memories I will forever cherish about my time on bed rest was every night when my father-in-law and mother-in-law would come visit me. They always brightening my day. It meant so very much to me that every day, no matter what, they would come to spend time with me. It was nice because they lived only about 5 minutes from the hospital and my father-in-law really loved the coffee in the break room so there was an extra incentive! It really touched my heart that they would come every day for me. I looked forward to Friday nights as well. My family usually always gets together Friday nights at my house or my mom and dads and so when I was in the hospital everybody got together in my room. It was always a party, and I looked forward to seeing everybody and talking to them all. It was nice during the day when my mom would bring Anderson to come visit me. I would get some time before her nap and then she would come back again in the evening. It was nice getting to see her and my mom. It always made my days feel shorter because they were usually my earliest visitor those days. One of my other favorite memories is when my dad brought me lunch. His work is only about a mile away and he had got caught up on his patients for the day and called and asked if I would like anything for lunch. I asked for Subway and he picked it up and came and saw me for a few minutes. It meant so much to me that he did that and I saved the sticky note that he wrote my order down on that was attached to my sandwich bag when he delivered it. One of the GROSSEST things that happened when I was on bed rest [excluding anything that was TMI]… my retainer dropped on the ground twice while I was admitted there. It pretty much was the most disgusting thing I could think of. One of the times it rolled under the hospital bed and when a nurse got down and got it from me, I can’t even think about telling you about all the hairs that was stuck to it. Don’t worry, we took precautionary measures and brought retainer cleaner, mouthwash and brushed it with a toothbrush.
At my 28 week ultrasound I had 10 cm of fluid! It was such a blessing to get that kind of news. When I was at home on bed rest I talked to another doctor who no longer practiced but that I had heard was knowledgeable about this scenario. He had told me if my AFI raised during this time that was A. hope to keep going because that meant maybe it was sealing and B that any increase meant he was getting more fluid which would help his lungs develop. He told me the best chance I have for it to increase is around 28 weeks because that is when in normal pregnancies the fluid is the highest. [It then starts to lower again around 32 weeks]. They also could see more fluid in his bladder which meant he was swallowing the water and that is what they look for for lung development. I drank a big cup of orange juice that morning that my sister's boyfriend Thomas brought me. I also will never forget the time he spent sitting with me after bringing me breakfast. We watched the olympics together and chatted until I was taken back for my ultrasound with the incredible news that the fluid had raised. I give him the credit for bringing me the orange juice! I think maybe Fitz liked the taste of it!
Besides the few false alarms I had, I actually had a very serious one. I was 28 weeks and a few days I believe, and after three days in a row finally taking my wheel chair privileges, I had contractions. It started about 1am and I was terrified. If it was going to be happening I was going to have to call Andrew and wake him up as well as both our families so that somebody could watch Anderson and everybody else could come over for his birth. I didn't want to wake anybody out of their sleep unless it was for sure time, so I had to do this scary thing by myself. I remember this moment like it was yesterday. They came in and explained what they would do to try to stop the labor. I was to be given a shot in my arm in which would help stop the contractions but would have negative side effects on me that lasted 30 minutes and the results we would know if it would work within those thirty minutes. I would be given magnesium sulfate for 12 hours to also help stop contractions and help reduce the chance of cerebral palsy if I did labor. I can't remember if they gave me another steroid shot or not but I think they did that as well but after the first thirty minutes of the other shot. Now the sucky part was both those things they give to stop contractions have TERRIBLE side effects on the mother. With the 30 minute shot, I was told my skin would be on fire, it would feel red and it would feel like I was super feverish. I also would have a super increased resting heart rate. I remember this as the scariest part as the nurse after administrating it, sits in there with your for 30 minutes. I am guessing to make sure you don't die during that time. She said she was just there to watch over me for those thirty minutes but I feel like I know what she was watching for after I started feeling the effects from it. During that time, my resting heart rate was above 180 bpm. It felt absolutely terrible. I wanted Andrew there so bad and so many times I thought about calling him, but I just felt bad letting him lose sleep if it wasn't going to actually happen. The side effects of the magnesium makes you feel like you have the flu. It probably felt like the worst flu I have ever felt. Luckily unlike other people I didn't throw up, which was a nice bonus. It makes you feel super nauseous though, lethargic, and just super unwell. Even though the first shot technically wears off after 30 minutes as far as increased heart rate goes, I was super shaky for the rest of the night until I ate lunch the next day. Come morning, when I let everybody know what had happened and I was still continuing to be monitored and had the magnesium still dripping, I was afraid to eat anything. I stayed away from eating until they took the magnesium off around lunch time. I remember they told me the good news was as soon as they took the IV out I would feel normal again. They were right thank goodness because I felt SO AWFUL. Luckily their efforts did work and labor was stopped. After those three rides in the wheel chair though I didn't take any more until I delivered besides my weekly ultrasound. I was so scared I would get contractions again if I did, and nothing was worth risking labor.
The next three weeks were laid low, not too much happening. At 29 weeks I had a very nice friend of mine [Megan DeHaan] from church offer to come highlight my hair. It had been about 4 or 5 months since I had gotten to get my hair done, and my regrowth was disgusting. We confirmed with doctors and nurses if that would be doable. The way we got it done was by me laying on one side with my head towards the one side of the bed. She was able to get enough foils in that side then I switched sides and she put some in for that side. We had scheduled it on shower day, so when it was time to wash it out, I got in the shower and washed it out myself. She gave me a slight trim while I sat in the wheel chair. The following week, she was my hero and came back to style my hair and do my make up for my pregnancy photos at 30 weeks. It meant so much to me that she would do this extreme act of kindness. It meant so much to me that she made feel beautiful and human again. [I really had to put all my own feelings of beauty aside for this process. Between my hair, my face, my cleanliness and my overall strength and health had to pretty much be ignored for this entire time on bed rest]. It meant the world to me and I will never forget this. The lovely Cami Parker Photography came and took my photos. She was so wonderful working around the fact that I really actually had to stay in bed for most of it. She also somehow made some of the photos not even look like I was in the hospital. She’s a true artist and I am forever grateful for the photos that capture me on bed rest. My greatest and hardest achievement and memories of that to keep forever. I was so worried during it that I would cause myself to labor. What if it was too much that day? Did I push the limits? It was hard for me to stand so I didn’t do much of that, but we had a few photos standing up but after just a few minutes I had to go back to sitting as I was winded, concerned for me and the baby.
On August 29, 2016 I turned 31 weeks pregnant and was so excited I was three weeks away from our goal week in which I would be induced. I went to be that night, after midnight and celebrating that we made it another week! At around 4 am I woke up and had this very bad cramping pain. I went to the bathroom hoping maybe going poop would help and maybe that is what it was. I got back in bed and thought to myself, I wonder if it could be labor? I figured I would try to go back to sleep and if I can’t go back to sleep then it is definitely labor. As I laid there and tried to force myself to go to sleep, I just wasn’t falling asleep. The pain was pretty strong and wasn’t letting up. I waited in the dark room thinking to myself for two hours before I alerted a nurse. Now looking back at it, I probably should of told them right away considering what complications could of happened. I kept thinking that this was the final moment. The moment of truth was about to happen. I prayed for strength for the day, for things to work out how I hoped, but most of all, whatever was in God’s plan to happen. I remember being able to hear nurses outside my room and I saw the sliver of light coming from under the door. I was so nervous to admit it was time. I was so fearful of what was going to happen. Finally at around 6 am I called in my nurse. I said I think maybe I am having labor pains and I wanted to be put on the monitor. She got them set up and said she would keep an eye on it and would be back in 10-15 minutes. Within that time, I could feel them getting stronger and I also could see they were consistent. The nurse came back in and said, “Everything looks good! Looks like your uterus may just be a little irritated. I will take the monitor off for now.” I explained that I felt them getting pretty strong and I insisted she leave them on for longer. After as much time as I have spent watching these monitors, I mentioned that I thought I noticed she set the baseline higher so it wasn’t really looking like I was having contractions. I asked her to also move the baseline down to 0 so we could try gauging it that way. She said she would give me another 10 minutes and that she would come back in if she noticed anything.
She came back and said that it looked like I actually was in labor and that she has called for the doctor to come take a look at the monitor and me and for me to let my family know. They also were going to get magnesium dripping again through my power glide so that we could try to get in as much as we could to benefit his lungs. They started the MAG and fluid, this was around 7 am when I called Andrew and my family and his to let them know today was most likely going to be the day. They checked me and I was already dilated to a 2. They transferred me over to the labor and delivery side and started getting me comfortable in that room. I requested that the soonest they would let me have a epidural that I could. I felt pretty sick from the magnesium in conjunction with the labor pains. I think I also requested something for nausea because it wasn’t a very pleasant feeling. They came in about an hour later for the epidural I was much more comfortable but could still feeling a bit of pain.
I sent my mom and my good friend Kathleen home to go shower and come back. They warned me it could be days because they will keep him in as long as possible to get the MAG to strengthen his lungs and I was only at a 3 cm. I ensured my mom and Kath it would be some time so go home and get ready and then come back. I was going to do my make up as well now that I have the epidural. Since I could feel a bit of pain though I asked for another dose of the epidural. I was afraid it would get worse or not fully work. [I usually need about double doses when I am at the dentist or having a surgery and need any sort of numbing medicine]. They gave me a second dose, I finished my make up and decided I would try to nap while the pain wasn’t present. Probably not more than 30 seconds after I closed my eyes, I opened them and said, “It’s time. It is time to push”. My mom probably left 25-30 minutes before this moment. The nurses came in and checked me and I was at a 10 and ready to push. Andrew texted my mom to tell her to hurry back. My mom thought Andrew was kidding with him and she FaceTimed me. She had a towel on her head and had just gotten out of the shower, in her bath robe. I informed my mom it was really time I am about to start pushing. She grabbed the towel off her head and she hung up on me. I really had wanted my mom there as when we talked to doctors about how this would go we were told that Andrew would probably go up to the NICU with Fitz, and I wanted my mom to stay with me just in case. [With Anderson I hemorrhaged after birth so I wanted somebody there with me if something happened again]. I thought there probably wasn’t a way she would make it in time; my parents house is over 20-30 minutes away from the hospital. I remember pushing and being surprised that it was a bit harder than I thought it would be to push a smaller baby out. Within a few minutes of me starting to push, my dad walked into the room and three seconds after that my mom. I was surprised my dad was there because that wasn’t part of the plan but he said that mom didn’t know if she would make it in time and so my mom sent my dad as he works only a mile away. Somehow though my mom was able to pretty much beat my dad to the hospital as they walked in one after another. I was happy to know they were both there safe before he was born. I can’t believe she made it, and she even had her hair brushed! I had my dad stay in and it was nice because he actually was the one who was able to video most of the birth.
It’s interesting, I am not sure what other women think of while pushing, but for me I close my eyes and pray for each push to be the last push. I almost feel like I push so hard my eyes will pop out of my head. The moment I pushed him out felt like the last 13.5 weeks all built up to this one moment. I had this intense feeling that this was the moment of truth and I was either about to have my heart ripped out of me, or I was going to be unbelievably blessed that my son survived. Either his lungs were going to work and be able to be worked on, or they weren’t and there was nothing that any of the doctors and nurses could do to help. Andrew cut the umbilical cord and I knew from all my research and talking to the NICU doctors what the “plan” was. They have to give the baby one minute to cry and breathe on it’s own before they intervene. As a mom, or parent, not hearing your baby cry upon delivery is scary in itself. You just pray and pray that all of a sudden it will start, that he will do the unexpected. From the time he got out I felt like I was holding my breath [well, since my water broke technically but very intensely at this moment]. They brought him over to the bed where the NICU doctor and two nurses were ready to assist after the given minute was up if he didn’t breathe. I was not able to see Fitz this whole time. Not even for a second did I get a glimpse of him and what he looked like, if he even looked healthy. I heard them say his weight and his height and they were pretty surprised he was as big as he was. He was right on with what a 31 week baby is supposed to be and considering with all the measurements we had, they were expecting smaller than that. When I went through the counseling to heal from this very traumatic birth, I was told to pick the worst part of it, the part that gives me the greatest anxiety. The worst part for me was the minutes of waiting to find out if he was going to live or if he wasn’t going to. I remember it so vividly. I can see me trying to see him from where I was at. I had to kind of look around my doctor who delivered and I could only see the back of the NICU doctor and the two nurses on either side. Farther back from them on either side was my dad on the left videoing them working on Fitz and Andrew on the right taking photos of them working on Fitz. I remember multiple “cries” from me asking if he was okay. The NICU doctor answered the first time when he was handed him, but I knew things weren’t okay yet. I remember repeatedly asking if he’s okay, if he was breathing yet. I wanted somebody to answer, somebody to relieve my anxieties in that moment. I kept looking at Andrew’s face while he was watching, I was looking back to my dad who had the same serious face on. Nobody was answering, nobody had an answer. We had never been through this and we didn’t know if it was working what they were doing or if it wasn’t. I know the doctor was doing his job, and I applaud him so much for his focus as I think if it was any other doctor maybe Fitz wouldn’t be here today. Fitzgerald Thomas Grant Augustyniak was born at 4:14 pm weighing 3 pounds 5 ounces and was 15 inches long.
As I went back through this video my dad took, from the moment I heard that he was born in the video, to the moment when my dad shut off the camera is just over 5 minutes long. When my dad shut off the camera, he still wasn’t breathing at that time. 5 whole minutes. It felt like eternity, but honestly 5 minutes for a baby to breath is eternity. I am not sure how much time total, and I am not sure why my dad turned off the camera. Maybe he got nervous, or maybe he thought it was going to turn bad at that point. All I can say is how relieved I am it turned out the way it did. It was so scary to be a part of and to live through, but I feel so blessed it turned out the way it did. When we reprocessed this in my counseling appointment, my positive cognition [what I wanted to believe when we were done] was that it was the way things were supposed to be. Through it, I felt such a presence of God in that moment when they were working on him. Like I said, nobody could of helped his lungs work if they weren’t developed. There would of been nothing they could do medically to force him to breathe if it just wasn’t there. When I close my eyes now and think of that moment I see God there actually breathing his breath into him from the corner of the room. I know the only reason he is here on this earth is because of God. He was given less than 1% chance to live. It baffles me every moment I think of that. My son has a tremendous purpose in life and I cannot wait to share that with him every day of his life!
The happiness I had when I heard he was breathing with the help of the machines was such a wonderful feeling. They rolled his bed over and held him close to me while I kissed him and was able to finally see him. With all the cords everywhere, I felt like I didn’t really get a great look and it definitely wasn’t as long as I would of hoped. From what I could see though, I did think he looked a lot like Anderson did. I had such a cry of relief when I finally got to kiss him. I really wished I could of held him, and things would of been like they were when I had Anderson, but with Fitz things were different. It was time for them to take him up to the NICU. Andrew and my dad left together to follow him, and my moms stayed with me. During this time my placenta still hadn’t come out. They said they give it 30 minutes before they have to start to get it out. They gave it the full thirty minutes and nothing had still come out. They noticed it did not stay intact as one whole piece, it broke into a tiny pieces with the biggest being the size of a quarter. [I had the same problem after having Anderson of it bursting into pieces instead of coming out whole]. With Anderson we found out 8 weeks after I had her that placenta was left and I had to get a D&C the next day. With Fitz I learned to be my own advocate and I requested they bring in a ultrasound before they finished to make sure they got every piece. They told me they didn’t need one and I demanded it. They brought one and sure enough, there were more pieces. I ended up having to watch a full D&C after Fitz [with Anderson’s I was knocked out], and let me tell you, it is brought one of the worst things to be awake while they do. At one point I looked down at my stomach because there was a lot of movement going on and what I saw was the doctors hand moving in my stomach almost like if you were to put your hand in a plastic bag, pull it tight and move it around. It was the most alien, creepy thing ever and it still makes me queasy thinking about it. It took me a total of over 2 hours after having Fitz that they finished with me and I was able to have visitors and start recovering. I had lost a lot of blood, but not quite as bad as when I had Anderson. It wasn’t until 10 o’clock that night I finally got to go to the NICU to see him. It was such a different experience than it was having Anderson. From the moment I had her, she didn’t leave the room. With Fitz I had no baby in there with me. It was eerie because I had no baby in there with me and felt like I had to keep reminding myself that he was okay, and my worst fear was not true even though it felt like he didn’t exist. When I finally got to see him in the NICU, it was pretty nerve racking. I feel like you don’t know what to expect, but no matter what, seeing your baby in a incubator, with tubes on them; it’s scary. After staying two days in the hospital, I was finally discharged.
The feeling of FINALLY going home from the hospital and being able to not be on bed rest any longer was a FANTASTIC feeling. Very difficult to describe. The best way I can describe was as if I was in jail for 3 months in which I couldn’t really walk around or go outside or do anything, I was let free and I saw the world again for the first time. Everything seemed exciting and new, and I was just so thankful for it all. I remember looking up at the sky and being happy that I could see and feel the sun on my skin. I remember on our drive home looking at the other cars on the road and being happy that I got to see there was a world outside of those hospital walls. I almost never complain about the heat during the summer anymore, because there was a summer in which I missed the entire thing. It came with some mixed feelings though too. It didn’t feel right leaving my one baby at the hospital. It didn’t feel like he was mine to keep. It was hard to feel connected. I was also happy though that I was able to be home and function as a mom with my daughter that I felt like I had to not be present with or care for her in 3 months. So many mixed emotions, but the main emotions were:
BLESSED. THANKFUL. GRATEFUL.
I will be doing a follow up post about the NICU rollercoaster ride which lasted 96 days. I know not everybody will read to the end, but I am hoping that this detailed post can help others in the same situation. If you have researched PPROM [Preterm Premature Rupture of Membranes] and you found yourself here; I really hope that I could help you in your journey and give you hope. I know it may be tough, and chances are you feel scared and deflated. Just like I did, I hope you cling to the positive stories, the stories that work out how you hope yours does. That is one of the things that brought me the most comfort myself and pretty much all you can do. The best and most simplest advice to sum this whole post up, PRAY.
ALL THE GLORY TO GOD.
Please feel free to comment or reach out to me if you want any advice or have any questions. I am here and so willing to listen and talk to anybody in this situation who needs encouragement.