Category: Micah

Tuesday was my next ob appointment. I packed my bags for the hospital, fully expecting to be back on the Mom Unit again–overnight-type stuff, my Bible, daytimer and some books to read. My camera, just in case.

I figured I could always request other things later. . .

The resident (once again) was someone I had never seen before. So not knowing what my chart says, I went ahead and gave her the quick summary of my pregnancy. She was telling me the standard, “You’ll keep taking procardia and stay on bedrest until week 36, and you’ll have another appointment in two weeks.” I was skeptical. I didn’t really think I would last two more weeks. I wanted to say ‘Why don’t you wait to tell me the plan until after you check my cervix?’ But instead I just listened and waited.

Then she checked: she said I was greater than 4 centimeters dilated, and she didn’t even want me to walk to the hospital (which was in the same building). She requested a wheelchair, and someone took me over. The receptionist gave me an appointment card for two weeks out. I wanted to give it back and say ‘I’ll see them on the Mom Unit,’ but I took it anyway. Sometime after Micah was born, I found that card and wondered if I should have cancelled that appointment since he came early.

So I was re-admitted–back to the Mom Unit–on Tuesday, June 3, at 32 weeks, 5 days. Somehow I knew the end was near.

My contractions continued, and at > 4cm, there was nothing else medically that could be done to stop Little Q from coming.

That afternoon, I called two of my dear friends, Donna and Stephanie. Both were bridesmaids in my wedding, and both delivered babies at 32 weeks.

Donna had experienced preterm premature rupture of membranes (PPROM) in the middle of the night, while her husband (a pilot) was out of town. She drove herself to the hospital at 2 a.m.!!! and fortunately the baby did not arrive until the next day. Her husband was able to be there for the birth. Her son Wesley was in the NICU for five weeks, and fortunately is a very healthy 6-year-old now! With her second pregnancy, she was on progesterone shots, but experienced preterm labor and almost delivered around 34 weeks. The meds and bedrest kept Stephen from arriving until exactly 37 weeks (to the day!).

I watched Donna go through two challenging pregnancies. I heard her testify of God’s amazing peace in her heart, after her water broke at 32 weeks, as she drove herself to the hospital. (Normally, she is not a calm person in circumstances like that. She tends to freak out! But God really truly gave her His peace.) I watched her go through her second pregnancy with Stephen. I sat in her hospital room as she experienced active labor at 34 weeks (once again her husband was out of town) and as she read the Psalms and prayed that God would help her “surrender” to having another preemie. And then, when in her heart she “surrendered,” God stopped her preterm labor, and sent her home again–on bedrest for another month. I watched her wrestle with her emotions. She felt so conflicted, fully prepared for another preemie, and now “re-surrendering” to the challenge of juggling bedrest while caring for a 3-year-old. Which is basically where I found myself now.

Donna specifically reminded me that I can be thankful to God for this time, because He knows me completely, loves me infinitely and designed this time, specifically to make me more like His Son! Those words really carried me through. I could see God changing my heart, just like He had changed Donna’s, and I wanted to submit to His plan for me each day! Whether that meant bedrest. In and out of the hospital for the next few weeks. Or a preemie coming later that day. . .

My other friend Stephanie went into preterm labor either 7 or 8 weeks early, and her labor progressed very rapidly but she ended up needing a c-section due to Little Kate’s position. She also had some problems with the placenta. . . I can’t remember all the details. When Tyler was born, she had similar problems. And again, another c-section.

Stephanie talked me through the whole c-section thing–a completely new experience for me. I remember her saying it was incredibly cold in the OR and afterwards in recovery.

Stephanie is such a calm, stable person, who also looks to the Lord in these times, so she’s another good friend to talk to when you’re looking at delivering a preemie.

Wow, God gave me some incredible friends, didn’t He?

It was genuinely helpful to talk to them, because it seemed very possible that I might be in their situation very soon. Between the conversations with Donna, Stephanie and the visit from the neonatologist, I felt ready.

Another blessing: Mara was healthy this week–no fever, and she was able to stay with Daniel’s family and our friends the Uttkes (whose son Corban is one of Mara’s best friends) most of the time. I was so encouraged to hear reports from Daniel’s family and Melissa, saying that Mara seemed happy and was doing great.

Sometimes I think bedrest was harder for Daniel and Mara than it was for Little Q and me.

I had mixed feelings about leaving. I felt like I would be coming right back–I felt like labor and delivery was a ticking time bomb, that might go off just because I simply walked out of the hospital. There was a certain measure of safety in being on the Mom Unit: if my water broke or the baby just decided to come, Daniel wouldn’t have to drive me 45 minutes through the city to the hospital.  I was right there, with operating rooms and a Level III NICU down the hall.

But on the other hand, I missed Daniel and Mara sooo much. And it was good to be home. To actually rest on my own couch, in my own bed.

When we pulled up to the house, it was heart-wrenching to see my sick little girl, who (that day) was being watched by our friends Tara and Amy from church. Mara didn’t really know Tara or Amy. The combination of having strangers watching her while she was sooo sick (she still had a high fever due to the roseola) and not having seen her mother for four days was more than little 16-month-old Mara could handle.

Tara told me she had sobbed hysterically for the entire two hours they were there. In all her life, I don’t think Mara ever sobbed hysterically for two hours about anything! Not even as a newborn. I felt bad for Tara and Amy.–It is hard enough to have your own child crying for two hours, but it’s almost unbearable when it’s someone else’s child! And my heart was broken for my baby girl . . .

When they left, Daniel and I just sat in the living room downstairs (I was still on “bedrest” so I couldn’t do much else). My sick baby girl sat on the couch next to me. She wasn’t sobbing any more. She just sat sucking her thumb and deeply heaving with each breath, as you do after a long hard cry.

Finally, she looked up at me, and between heaving breaths, she ever-so-sweetly said, “Dadda . . . Momma . . .Baby,” and then she put her thumb back in her mouth, and leaned her sweaty, feverish head against my arm.

I will never ever forget that moment as long as I live. We were all together again: “Dadda . . . Momma . . .Baby . . .”  And my little Mara knew that’s how it was supposed to be.

I wished like crazy that I could promise her that I would never ever ever leave her like that again–but in my heart, I knew that the chances were very good that I would be back in the hospital, and if I went back again, the chances were good we would also have a baby in the NICU for several weeks. . .

So in a way it was harder to come home, because I saw how hard it was for Mara. It really broke my heart.

We had 4-1/2 days together–Mara and me at home on bedrest, until my next appointment. We worked out for Daniel’s sister to help 3 – 4 days each week. This way Mara would have someone that she knew with her, at least half the time. We would try to fill in the other days asking people from church for help watching her. On Sundays she was able to go to church with Daniel’s family (since Daniel sometimes worked Sundays).

I tried really hard to be “good,” to rest, and to not go up and down the stairs more than once/twice a day.

But with my contractions continuing steadily with the procardia, I figured I would be back on bedrest in the hospital after the next appointment. Just walking to the car, through the parking garage and into the doctor’s office was enough to bring on stronger contractions!

With contractions 2-3 minutes apart and dilation progressing, I was admitted to the hospital on Sunday, May 25.  It was looking like I would deliver that night, but after cortizone shots for Little Q’s lungs and procardia to slow my contractions, I found myself transferred from Labor and Delivery to the Mom Unit about 24 hours after being admitted.

The Mom Unit is where you go if your symptoms are such that it is too risky to send you home on bedrest, but your labor is not so imminent that you have to stay in labor and delivery.

Life on the Mom Unit is not all bad.

It’s tempting to sit here and complain about how hard it is to be hospitalized on bedrest. To have to lie in a hospital bed indefinitely to care for the baby growing inside you, while your 16-month-old daughter is sick and being shuffled (sometimes several times a day) from person to person. It’s tempting to even complain about merely lying still for weeks, when you’re a person who loves action and doing everything yourself. And the mental battles you face with so much time on your hands. And how hard it is to actually rest in the hospital, with a constant stream of high risk specialists, ob residents, nurses, neonatologists, consultants, housekeepers and dietary aides flowing in and out of your room day and night.

But every day you are on the Mom Unit is a day that your baby is not in the NICU. Every day on the Mom Unit buys your baby one more day in the womb, where he can grow and thrive like he was created to.

It means your baby will have stronger lungs, fewer surgeries, fewer long-term physical problems. And for the lucky few, it means delivering a completely normal, full-term baby!

So Life on the Mom Unit is (in retrospect) a very happy thing! I would do it again in a heartbeat.

Of course, while you’re there, it can feel like a trial.

Most mornings I was awakened around 5:30 a.m. when the residents did their rounds. When there was a pelvic exam, it was hard to go back to sleep.

But on the mornings without them, I went back to sleep, and woke again later when the nurses’ shifts changed around 7, and then enjoyed breakfast in bed. On this end of bedrest, I have to say, having breakfast in bed was enjoyable while it lasted!

Everyone complains about hospital food, but I usually enjoy it: fruit, muffins, the expensive yogurt brands, cereal–all foods I like! And they even let me drink coffee, which surprised me a bit. Somehow I thought the hospital wouldn’t serve coffee for a pregnant woman on bedrest with preterm labor!

As always, the reassuring sound of Little Q’s heartbeat was constantly in the background, and in case I wondered if my contractions really were that close, all I had to do was glance over at the monitor. The circulation cuffs always made my legs sweaty, especially overnight.

I frequently slathered Bath & Body Works Sweet Pea Body Cream on my legs because they were dry and itchy. The circulation cuffs heating my well-lotioned legs filled my whole room with the “sweet pea” scent. The housekeeping lady always commented how my room smelled sweet like lotion–and not like a hospital. If I’m gonna be here till week 36, I’m going to do my best to make it an enjoyable experience–for me and everyone else!

When I came to the Mom Unit, they told me I was allowed to get up once a day to shower and get ready, but other than that I could get up only to use the bathroom. I decided to really enjoy the morning routine! My morning shower-and-get-ready routine was the highlight of my day, the only break from the bands on my tummy and my legs. My once-a-day chance to get up and stretch and remember what it was like not to lay in a bed.

I even had time to paint my fingernails and toenails–something I was pretty sure I wouldn’t have time for after the baby came!

During the first week, Daniel came up to visit once. Mara came down with a high fever, which fluctuated between 103 – 105 for about 4 days. We didn’t know (until after her fever broke and she developed a rash) that she had roseola. So Daniel and Mara stayed away from me, not wanting me to catch whatever she had, and risk having a high fever during Little Q’s delivery. Which left me alone in the hospital for days . . . I missed them, my little family!

Every day there was discussion of my leaving. And every day there was discussion of my staying on the Mom Unit until week 34. Depending on who I talked to, I got different answers. And if a nurse happened to adamantly share the “latest” she had heard from “Dr. so-and-so,” it was probably wrong. I was dealing with residents primarily, who would give me their prognosis and recommendations, and then go discuss it with the chief resident. They would further discuss my situation with a panel (including high risk specialists) each morning.

I would have done myself a huge favor if (from the beginning) I had realized the recommendations were completely arbitrary until after they had gone through the whole chain of command. And even then, they were subject to change the next day.

As it was, I would hear the resident say, “We’re going to dismiss you later today after your ultrasound, and you will be on bedrest at home, taking procardia until week 36.” So I would call Daniel to work out who could pick me up, how that affected who was caring for Mara, etc. Once we had worked things out, the chief resident would come in and say, “Change of plans: We’re going to try taking you off the procardia and observe you for 24 hours to see if the contractions continue.”

Daniel and I felt that was a ridiculous idea, since I’d had contractions for weeks before the procardia. The idea was that, sometimes, giving your body a break from the contractions (through use of medicine) and several days of rest may allow you to come off the medicine without contractions. I would have been “game” if my contractions had been fewer, but as it was, the textbooks would tell you I was in active labor the whole time. So reluctantly I went off the procardia.

I didn’t have to wait 24 hours.

Of course, the contractions came back–with a vengeance–so they put me back on procardia and had to watch me another 24 hours to make sure the procardia could actually keep me from dilating more, before releasing me.

It was so frustrating because I talked to different people all the time, and there was not one main person to ask. I felt at the mercy of whoever was on duty that shift, regardless of whether or not they knew anything about me prior to their shift that day.

Finally Thursday afternoon, they decided to let me go home on bedrest, taking procardia until week 36.

Sunday, May 25 began as a restful, relaxing bedrest day. Daniel was working, so his family took Mara to church with them, where she could be watched in the nursery. She ate lunch with them too, so I didn’t see much of anyone that day.

I had contacted someone in a local moms group about a changing table she was offering.  My e-mail to her on Sunday afternoon reflected my skepticism that this whole preterm labor thing was really an issue.

“I have not been coming out to playgroup the past few weeks,” I wrote her. “I actually was put on bedrest a couple weeks ago, because I was having so many contractions. One day I had 10/hr for about 12 hours, and at 29 weeks, the drs wanted to play it safe. . . .now I’m 31 weeks, and still having contractions, but much fewer, so I’m hoping they will let me off bedrest at my next appt! All that to say, I can’t go anywhere (being on bedrest), so my husband will be coming by for the changing table. . . ” We decided that Daniel could pick it up that evening on the way home from church.

Daniel’s mom called in the afternoon and offered to pick up the laundry that night when they dropped Mara back off after the evening service. I thought it would be great for Daniel to have his mom washing his clothes, as opposed to a random girl from our church. 🙂 So I thought, ‘I’ve rested a lot. I’ll sort the laundry and treat all the stains that Mara’s clothes inevitably have.’ And I did. But that was all it took for my contractions to come back strong.

I had no idea my body would respond that way. But for about three hours, I couldn’t ignore it: my contractions were now 2-3 minutes apart. Daniel texted from church, asking if he could stay for the dinner and church meeting afterwards. I wanted him to stay. He was constantly so busy with Mara and things around the house, every moment he wasn’t working, so I knew it would be a little break for him to get to interact with friends from church. I texted back, reminding him to pick up the changing table afterwards, and he said he would.

Daniel’s mom came to get the laundry, and I told her about it. My contractions had sobered me up quite a bit. We decided I should rest for an hour, drink lots of water, and if they were still frequent and strong, I should call the resident on call again.

It was “deja vu, all over again,” as they say! My mind wrestled and argued just like the first time I went up to the hospital. I didn’t want to go up there, be monitored for an hour and sent home. I didn’t want to be put on even stricter bedrest. I didn’t want to overreact and run up to the hospital at any sign of labor. But there was no mistaking it. My contractions were close and strong.

When Daniel finally got home, he, his mom and I sat in our bedroom and decided that I definitely should call the resident, who very predictably instructed me to come in right away and get checked out. We walked out to the car–my first time to walk outside since Tuesday! One of the neighbors saw me and asked “How’s that baby?”

We stopped on our way to the car. “Actually,” Daniel said. “She’s having a lot of contractions, so we’re going up to the hospital now. But it’s still about 9 weeks early.”

Occasionally, it would hit me: This could be serious. And I think that was one of those moments.

Once again, a weekend/late-evening drive to the hospital was so much faster than a morning rush hour or lunchtime commute! I was hoping the contractions would lessen as we drove, but they didn’t. Not at all. I was thankful to have Daniel with me this time. Somehow it was starting to seem a little more serious.

We arrived at the hospital and found a great parking spot on the ground level. Went inside. Same drill. To lighten the minor tension, I amused myself, by telling Daniel ahead of time what was next, so he wouldn’t be surprised. Take the elevator to fourth floor. Check in with the nurses in Labor and Delivery triage. Put on hospital gown. Take samples. Lie down. Begin monitoring the baby’s heartbeat and my contractions. Drink lots of water.

But this time, when they checked me, I was 3 cm and 70% effaced, meaning things are definitely progressing toward active labor. And this is where things were different. Everyone suddenly treated me as if the baby were coming tonight. I wasn’t really expecting that. I was fully expecting to be monitored for an hour, contractions lessen, go home, strict bedrest.  .  . It was very good to have Daniel there with me. “We need to think of a name,” he said. I think the realization was hitting him too, that we could have a baby ‘way sooner than we had anticipated.

I loved the female resident who was working with me. I had met her once before during a doctor’s visit and was impressed with her positive outlook, her professionalism, her peppy (but not giddy) personality, the way she made eye contact and asked if we had any questions, and the way she presented difficult things.

My contractions were close enough and strong enough that she didn’t have me wait an hour to see what happened. Right away she called for a steroid shot with the hopes that it would help the baby’s lungs mature, in case he was born quite early. I was also given procardia right away, with the hopes of delaying my labor as long as possible. She brought in her laptop, with an amazing ultrasound feature, and showed us the baby right there. That’s when she said, “Okay, he is breeched. So if he comes tonight, you will be having a c-section.”

At my last doctor’s appointment, I had been told his head was down, so I was quite disappointed, if not shocked, to hear her announcement. I was willing to have a c-section, if the baby’s life and health depended on it, but it was definitely not my preference. Moments like that, though, are so crystal clear, you don’t even get to wonder what to do, you just know what God has willed is what is best. So while the thought of having a c-section always disturbed me previously, I didn’t even give it a second thought. I did wince a little though. 🙂 I was given all sorts of paperwork to sign. I signed for the c-section.

The resident told us it was very likely that our baby would come in the early morning, but it would ideal if he could stay inside at least 24 hours or so in order to get the second steroid shot, which provided a chance to strengthen his lungs and prepare him to enter the world. We were hoping. . . We were praying. And the most beautiful part: we were trusting! I did not really feel anxious, although I deeply understood what this could mean for us, for our baby. But God gave me His unspeakable peace, passing all understanding. Thank you, Father!

The procardia began messing with me. I began struggling to focus on what the doctor was saying, feeling very dizzy, light-headed, like I was going to pass out. The resident said the initial dosage was intentionally high to try to get my body to stop labor. But they would back off on subsequent doses, she said, since apparently my body couldn’t handle that much procardia.

After an hour or so, they checked me again, and while my contractions were still strong and just as frequent, I was still only a 3. That was God answering our prayers.

Around 1 a.m., after about seven hours of strong contractions 2-3 minutes apart, my contractions finally slowed to 3-5 minutes apart. The procardia was working! The resident told Daniel, if he wanted to go home and get some sleep, he could, since it looked like I would not be delivering tonight. They told him to be ready to come back though, if we called him during the night. I breathed a sigh of relief. They moved me out of triage, into my own room, in labor and delivery. They said it was still possible that I was in labor, just much slower now because of the medication, so they wanted to monitor me for at least 24 hours.

Daniel left and I actually slept. I was used to contractions now, after several weeks of them. But I was abruptly awakened at 5:35 a.m. by a resident coming in to “check,” saying I was still a 3, and could go back to sleep. How do you go “back to sleep” after a pelvic exam?

I was a little annoyed with this resident when he told me that the reason I went into preterm labor was dehydration, because the two main causes of preterm labor are infection and dehydration, and the lab work showed that I didn’t have an infection. I respect medical professionals, and usually I’m on board. But, with all due respect, I wasn’t dehydrated. I had been drinking a gallon of water or more each day, and I intentionally drank almost a gallon of water before coming into the hospital last night, to rule out dehydration. I had preterm labor, for some other reason, a reason that we may never know. But it wasn’t dehydration.

I definitely missed the resident from last night, and unfortunately, I didn’t see her again. I received conflicting information from the nurses, the techs, the residents, the chief resident.

Someone told me I would be in the hospital until at least week 34. Someone else said I would go home later that night. I should have learned right away not to get my heart set on anything anyone told me, but I didn’t. Which caused Daniel and me both frustration as I reported back to him what I was hearing, so we could plan child care for Mara in a constantly dynamic scenario.

On Monday night, I received my second steroid shot to strengthen the baby’s lungs.  What a huge answer to prayer, having made it 24 hours without delivering! Every single day is crucial in the development of preemies at this age.

As I continued taking the procardia, my contractions did space out again, more like 5 – 6 per hour. The resident was comfortable enough with that to send me to the Mom Unit. The Mom Unit is where you go when you’re not in active labor, but you’re close enough–or high risk enough–that it’s ill-advised to send you home. So I went, not knowing if I would be there overnight, or until week 34 or 36.