6.9.17
“Today, I am not strong. I want to go home. I want this all to be over with.”
On the 9th, I had my first ultrasound since being on the OB Special Care floor. My husband and I knew this would be happening in the morning but, despite another chance to see our little wiggler, we opted to send him to work at his usual time – he’d already missed so much work for this pregnancy.
We no longer hoped for improvement. We knew this pregnancy would end in a c-section due to the previa. We knew it could end quickly due to the abruption. While not much had changed with either of those issues, we entered into yet another new territory.
The diagnosis? Preterm Premature Rupture of Membranes. PPROM. Broken water.
I texted my husband at work, “My water’s broken,” and then relayed to him what the doctor had explained to me. We can still prolong this pregnancy. Until 34 weeks – at which point they can do for a baby what the female body can do for a baby – baby girl was still better off on the inside. But the risk at this point was that of infection.
They began a 48 hour antibiotic drip that would then change into five days of oral antibiotics. I began second guessing everything.
“I feel like my body is failing us. I feel unfit for pregnancy… We’re relying so heavily on medical advancements that I can’t help but wonder if we’re missing what God is saying to us. Am I not supposed to be a mom?”
It was a hard day that turned into a hard night, being woken up several times for vitals to be sure infection had not taken over. We’d reached 25 weeks, crossing the threshold of the 50/50 chance of survival for baby girl. Our “celebration” began with a Group B Strep test and me being scrunched up like an accordion and put on the monitor. I didn’t even try to be nice to Nurse S, whom I would later share heart-to-heart moments with. Instead, I cried for the two hours she kept me on the monitor. I was mad. I was uncomfortable. I was failing again.
“I just can’t bring myself to send out yet another negative update on this pregnancy to our family and friends… I’m sick of learning that things can still get worse.”
When I was finally released from my tether that was the monitor, we went out for our celebratory Starbucks frappacinos and then I returned to my room to enter the spa that was a bleeding woman’s shower – the one place I felt clean, unapproachable by doctors and nurses, free to cry, free to relax, free to take off my happy face and just be present with me.
People said I was strong. People didn’t see me on days like this one and in places like the shower.
“Everyone thinks I’m so strong, but I don’t have a choice. If I had an out, I would take it, but my only out is to go through with it.”
In the stats:
Gestational Age: 25 weeks
Days of blood: 44
Days of bedrest: 65
Pre-Hospital Stay Doctor’s Appointments: 8
Ultrasounds: 5
Days in the hospital: 15
IV starts: 2
Magnesium drips: 2
Trips to Labor & Delivery: 3
Sets of visitors: 26
Sponsor Oaklee's March of Dimes team.
P.S. On the 10th I also had my first, much-needed visit from my dog. If you end up as a long-term hospital patient and you have a pet, do the paperwork to get your pet permission to visit. I missed my little guy so much during that time.