Preemie Pages
Rollercoaster. It’s a
word parents of preemies hear very often, especially in those first few
days. As my husband and I were still
trying to wrap our brains around the fact that our daughter had come to the
world nearly 16 weeks early, we also had to learn a new technical medical
language, be parents to our 3 year old daughter and I needed to recover from
the C-section that brought her into the world.
We fielded congratulatory calls and emails and I kept
thinking, “No, that’s not it. It’s not
‘congratulations’. It’s something
else. Not condolences, not ‘I’m so
sorry’. It’s something else.” I needed a new word. We were happy she was alive. Happy she took her first breath on her own
before being placed on a ventilator but we weren’t happy that she’d left the
warmth of the womb. We cried. A lot.
Our journey to the first day in the NICU began when I was 13
weeks pregnant. We were celebrating entering
the second trimester with our second child when I started bleeding. It was a Saturday, of course. Sunday morning dawned and I visited the ER as
I was still bleeding. I was diagnosed
with a “small” sub-chorionic hemorrhage and told to go home on bed rest until I
could meet with my OB/GYN. My OB/GYN
was unalarmed at the bleeding.
Apparently these hemorrhages are fairly common (about 20% of
pregnancies) and typically resolve themselves by 20 weeks gestation. I continued bleeding for the next 7 weeks,
visiting my doctor’s office often due to changes in bleeding. I was convinced I would lose this baby which
we now knew was a girl and knew would be named Corrie Louise.
At my 20 week visit my doctor appeared a bit concerned as I
was still bleeding and confused as I hadn’t lost the baby. They prescribed bed rest. My husband urged me to get a referral to
maternal fetal medicine at Memorial Hospital in Colorado Springs. We thought bed rest was a bit extreme. The picture the high-risk doctor saw on the
ultrasound was quite different from what my OB/GYN had seen. I now had a large sub-chorionic hemorrhage
with a 30% placental abruption. I saw, very clearly, that 1/3 of my placenta
was dangling; attached to nothing. The
high-risk doctor informed me that this part of the placenta was not giving any
nutrition or support to my baby girl. She was growth restricted. I was
definitely to be on bed rest. Their best
case scenario involved me carrying the baby to viability at 24 weeks then
entering the hospital to continue my bed rest there until I went into labor,
likely prematurely. The worst case
scenario involved a late-term miscarriage or still-birth or a full placental
abruption which could be life-threatening to me and Baby Corrie.
I went home on bed rest.
I moved from the bed to the couch and got up periodically to use the
bathroom. I took 5 minute showers. Family stepped in to help with meals and
cleaning. I cried about 20 times a
day. I lost my job and nearly lost my
sanity. We prayed to reach the 24 week
mark. I spent time on medical websites
and read up on placental abruption. I
knew it wasn’t going to happen to me.
Things like that don’t happen to me.
I clung to hope that the hemorrhage would resolve by my next
appointment.
The Saturday after Thanksgiving I reached the 24 week
mark. We celebrated with high-fives,
congratulations and BIG thank-yous for all the help we’d gotten from
family. I had gone 10 days without
bleeding. That night I reclined on the
couch talking with my mother-in-law. I
couldn’t get comfortable. I kept
shifting on the couch. As soon as I
stood up (hoping it would make me feel better) I realized I was in labor. I was having a contraction every 60-90
seconds. I was an hour from the
hospital and my husband was at the movies with his dad. My mom, who had flown in from NY to help
out, drove me to the hospital. My husband and his dad were just ahead of us on
the highway.
The nurses and doctors tried everything to stop the
contractions while we waited for an ultrasound machine. The heart-rate monitor would lose track of
her heartbeat with every contraction.
Magnesium only slowed the contractions to one every 5 minutes. Seconds after the ultrasound exam I was
informed that they needed to get the baby out right now. I was not dilated so I delivered my second
child on November 28th at 7:14 am at the hospital by emergency
C-Section. She weighed 1 pound and 1
ounce and was 11.5 inches long. She was 24 weeks, 1 day
gestation. My husband was told there was a 50% chance she
wouldn’t survive the delivery. We were
told that she had a 30% shot at long term survival.
When my OB/GYN docs did rounds at the hospital they told me
I had suffered a full placental abruption which sent me into labor that
couldn’t be stopped. We got barely one day more than we’d prayed
for but in a way we’ve gotten so much more.
Corrie has survived delivery, she made it through the first few weeks
then she survived pneumonia when she still weighed less than 2 pounds. Today she is one year old, 18 pounds and a
barrel of laughs with an easy smile. She’s
an inspiration and a lesson in perseverance.
We are blessed to be her parents; watching her strength and will to
live.
My name is Joelle and I am a proud preemie mom. This story is not just my voice but, I hope,
the voice of the half a million families that welcome a premature baby into
their lives every year in the United States.
Having a baby is always a cause for celebration. Preemie parents just celebrate
differently. We celebrate surviving
delivery, getting off the ventilator, having only a level 1 or 2 brain bleed,
surviving infection, reaching 1000 grams, . . . our milestones are different but our
love for our babies is the same. Welcome
to our world.