When I was cleaning the bathroom Saturday morning and felt pressure in the va jay jay area, no one could have told me it was not my plug that passed. I noticed the discharge and thought it strange, so I called Memorial and asked the operator to transfer me to an maternity nurse. I explained to the nurse I saw a creamy lightly tinged with reddish, brown coloring discharged. I immediately said to myself this is the plug as I described it to her. She asked how far along I was and then after asking more information said that it sound like I had lukorrhea a whitish discharge that can have traces of blood or other secretions giving it a faint light tinge of red. She asked when my next prenatal visit was and said for me to wait instead for it then to come in for what she said was normal based on my responses to her questions.
So, I waited till my Monday appointment. Even the days leading up to appointment, Rosslyn was so active and still tap dancing on my bladder. Yet, by Sunday even things felt weird but still I did as the nurse said since I already made over fifteen emergency room trips in the past four months. Always went in for every little thing. I had been told by many doctors who knew my gynecological history that it would be difficult for me to conceive, so I did not want anything to go wrong. She was active still but a lot lower and I felt pressure like right in my va jay jay area but thought she was just in a lower part of my womb. Come to find out she was actually dangling half way out my cervix.
Get to the Memorial Clinic prepared to wait a few hours before even examined. I am called in, put in stirrups and all I remember is the doctor yelling for a nurse saying call 911, I see membranes and the rest goes as follows. The doctor tells me to lay down flat on my back. Within minutes EMT's come in with a stretcher and place me gently on it. They strap me in and I am taken through the lobby with all eyes on me and scared out my mind, tearing up and holding my belly that felt a bit flatter. So much rushed through my head and one thing I recall saying over and over in my head, "I can never have anything, all I want is taken from me." This was a constant comment to my then boyfriend all through out this ordeal.
Soon as I arrived at Memorial, I was examined again and placed in a room where I was placed in the Trendelenberg position (Laying flat on a bed with my feet above head at a 15 - 30 degree angle). I was told I would spend the rest of my pregnancy in this position till Rosslyn developed well enough to be safely delivered. My estimated time was 14 weeks in this position, I did not last but a few hours. Blood was found on my sheets and all plans of facilitating the placenta and Rosslyn still in the sac to position in the most upper part of my uterus failed. Now, septicemia was their concern for me and I was told that my health out trumped hers. So contractions were induced to get my already open cervix more dilated so I can push her out no matter dead or alive. Through out this whole ordeal I was able to see her activity that was monitored by an ultrasound and her heart beat I could hear. It was strong and she was none the wiser to what was going on. She was half way in my womb and half of her from butt to toes was in my va jay jay area. She was still so active and that is why tearing was happening every time she moved. It hurt so much that alone, her moving around. Then the contractions induced and the twelve hours of labor was excruciating. All I was allowed were pain medication.
My ex was in the room being supportive and holding my hand as I cried and squeezed each time the pain was unbearable. I kept asking questions about what I can do to give her a better chance of surviving the breached forced labor. Some nurses and doctors were annoyed by my constant asking, as if I was just to push her out and write off as a loss since too early. Yet, I felt some glimmer of hope that would seep in once in a blue through it all. I was admitted around 4pm on April 16, 2007 and was in labor by 9pm and delivered her by cesarean section April 17th in the morning. The reason to do it, even after the doctors saying I was too young for the kind they would have to do that would best not snap her neck, was to give her every chance to survive.
So after accepting an epidural and them telling me they really do not give at the point I decided to get the c-section. Yet I was briefed that I was getting the "Old fashion", how they use to do them back before I was born, a transverse cut on my uterus that would limit my birthing experiences to fewer pregnancies if any. It would put me in the High Risk category indefinitely though other factors I deal with already deem me such in the first place. So more let downs and known future set backs in another department near and dear to me, having children. So, I got prepped for surgery, local anesthesia was administered, scalpel test done to make sure I did not feel, and my little girl was born today in 2007. Then the horror show begun. She is taken out and passes by my head and my now ex after letting out a strong cry that quickly went silent as they rushed her to an incubator and whisked her away.
Hours later I wake up in recovery, where they have me pumping milk and nurses are talking to me about feeding my new born. I over hear whispers of some nurses asking should they still go through the whole spiel and one in particular was the most honest to me when I asked, "Why should I pump? I do not know if she is still alive." The nurse said, "You are at Memorial Hospital, the best place any baby in NICU should be. Think positive. She may be a fighter" Well, I tried and I pumped the little that came. My then boyfriend and now ex came into the room they placed me in for recovery telling me a sibling I did not then and still do not deal with came to see me and did I mind. I told him to tell both siblings I did not care to see anyone. Then he wheeled me into the other room I was to be re-united with my little girl in. Then more whispers and I was told she will have to stay in the NICU for months and a nurse or I when strong enough can go bottle feed her my breast milk. The way they all talked, made me feel there was hope but the whispers and constant corrections made doubt easy to remain for me.
Finally, I was able to see her. They wheeled me in eight hours after giving birth to her and I saw her small one pound thirteen ounce self. So rubbery, raw looking. She had a band aid holding her jaw shut. She had small tubes coming out her belly button area and a small diaper that was too big so they left it open on her covering her private like a cover passed over just that part. I asked can I touch her and was told how to and what not to touch. So I touched her head and because I was afraid to tear her skin held her hand with my right pinky finger. The tip of my pinky she actually squeezed faintly. Her eyes never opened and I was informed her lungs had just started to form and were not fully developed. She was less than a weak shy of the time they normally would inject a premie with steroids to strengthen lungs. So I still had hope because all were shocked she was fighting and still alive on life support even.
Then the blood transfusion I was reluctant to do because I felt I was intervening too much with destiny was done. I got the bad news that she hemorrhaged from it in her brain after a blood vessel burst. They made me and my ex sit in a room with four specialists who each introduced themselves and their area of practice. Next, they proceeded to tell me and my ex the chances of her having a close to normal life were shot even lower with the grade four brain hemorrhage she sustained when they used a syringe to give her blood she lost. So I was given a few hours to decide if to take her off or keep her on life support? If kept her on life support, she would spend ten months or more in the hospital. Waiting to see if she would possibly be a vegetable, mentally or physically disabled infant was not a good picture to me. We were given so many negative scenarios and also told a miracle would need to happen in our case for a descent outcome.
So we decided to pull the plug. The day they did it I was in the hospital already two days listening to babies being born, families visiting and just crying all the time very low so no one would hear. That day my little sister was there visiting me and keeping me company. My ex already told the nurse when she asked if I wanted to hold her for the first time after they take her off life support not to show her to me. Yet when he made the comment I did not argue it because I was at a loss for words with all going on so fast and his mental I did not want to bother either. He did not show much more emotion than a concerned look on his face. So after he left and it was just me and my little sister who was around twelve years old at the time were there, the nurse came back in. The nurse said, "I noticed when I asked if you want to be there when they take Rosslyn off life support you hesitated and your boyfriend answered no. I can bring her into you so you can say your last good-bye." So I told her she could and asked my little sister if she did not mind.
They brought her in all dressed up with the tape off her jaw leaving residue left by the adhesive on her jaw. She was in a pink knitted dress, pink knitted bonnet, pink knitted booties and pink knitted diaper cover. She was cold as ice and still looked raw to me. My little sister was so supportive and I asked her was she okay with seeing her dead? She said she was okay but I saw her eyes look shocked. I my self could not believe this was all even happening, the holding of a dead baby. So I still wonder if that effects her like it does me. Never really to this day talk to her about it. I told her then not to tell my ex or anyone. Yet that ended up being told a bit after. I had promised my then boyfriend I would not mention her or cry when I got home.
Those seven days in the hospital were the worst and I was so angry with how Memorial handle much of my stay. One, I should not have been subjected to hearing newborns all day. Yes, they gave me my own huge room that I could close the door to, but the constant in and outs still left me to hear the joyful cries and families visiting. I do not do well under anesthesia so my bowel movements were not happening, I was distended badly, my transverse cut on my uterus was another issue with healing, and other complications kept me there till a doctor saw fit for me to leave. I almost lost it if not for much I had already become accustom to as in meditation and always prayer. I still blamed myself for all of it saying, "Had I came sooner all would have been different. Had I wanted a girl more she would not be dead." It also did not help for many to say this to me when brought to the ER. I just blamed my thoughts, my past experiences that lead to my not wanting a girl and just all the "F' ups prior in my life did not help paint a glimmering picture. I just felt like a failure again.
I kept telling them about my call to the point they sent their representative to my room four days later apologizing for my experience and telling me there will be an investigation as to what I was told to lead up to all this. At the time and still today, I really have nothing good to think about Memorial. Thus for the birth of my son whom due to this pregnancy was also born a month early as planned was born at another hospital. I did not want any negatively associated memories of the first pregnancy to effect the outcome of the third. Yeah, I got pregnant six months later and lost that one seven weeks in. Though told to let my body heal for a few years since the cut I had is a serious one that heightens ones chance of rupture during an attempt of a natural birth I got pregnant anyway. I wanted and prepared for a natural under-water birth with Rosslyn and now I can never have a normal delivery. Well, not one done by a doctor anyway. I must now get a cerclage (a stitch that helps keep cervix from opening) for my incompetent cervix, cannot go into labor with contractions, and will always be labelled high risk any pregnancy I have.
Whew, so much still not shared but this was a load I had to get out. Part of preserving my sanity is learning to let it go. First, I must learn to acknowledge the things I keep buried. I confront my inner most thoughts more readily now and find solitude is best within the confines of nature. Seems when I try to with my family, I always get interrupted with another's own experience so this blog is an answer to much. I at least get to tell my story without interruption or being left to feel like someone no one really cares to know about. I sometimes feel this way and why I rarely talk about things that trouble me deeply. Tough many deem me a talkative person, there is much I just do not divulge. Yes, I will go on about my opinions, yet because I am guarded due to lack of outlets willing to be there, I just keep matters like these to my self . Now this blog is an answer to another area of contention for me. My life, my experiences and I have every right to let it out, cry it out and just feel it out.
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