Category: Preemies/NICU

My brother Jon got married in South Carolina on Saturday, June 7, 2008, and sadly we weren’t able to be there. Ever since we found out I was pregnant with Micah, we knew it was possible that we might not be able to go–7 weeks before the baby was due. And I told Jon that the day I told him I was pregnant (Christmas Day 2007), but it never occurred to me back then that the baby might actually be born before Jon’s wedding!

Despite living all over the country, my family is very close. Yet we rarely ever can afford the time off or the costs of traveling, in order for all of us to get together. Jon’s wedding was to be the first time, since right after Christmas 2004, that we had all been together! (I say “right after Christmas,” because that year we were supposed to be together for Christmas–it would have been my family’s only Christmas “together” in the past seven years–but Daniel & I were flying Christmas Day, in order to “spend Christmas” with both our families, which we will never do again. We never made it to South Dakota. Our flight was delayed, and we spent Christmas night at Chicago’s O’Hare airport. We missed church on Sunday too, because the earliest flight we could take the next day didn’t get us there till the afternoon.)

So, 3-1/2 years later, we were looking forward to some family time. And I was thrilled that my little Mara’s first wedding would be my brother’s wedding . . .

Daniel came up with a great plan: We would take our time traveling down. We would leave on Wednesday morning. Drive to Virginia. Find a place to stay and have a relaxing afternoon/evening there, somewhere in the mountains. Get up whenever we woke up Thursday morning, have a bigger breakfast somewhere, and drive the rest of the way. Spend Thursday night with Matt & Heather (friends we were planning to stay with), and then have Friday and Saturday free to spend with family and wedding events.

But when I started having contractions at the end of April, Daniel became incredibly nervous about traveling, and he kept making the comment, “If we go to the wedding, the baby will be born in the mountains in Virginia!”

I kept telling him he was over-reacting, everything would be fine! Little did I know . . . according to our original travel plans, Daniel was right!

After my c-section, while I was in recovery (June 4, 2008), Daniel said, “If we had gone to the wedding, guess where Micah would have been born?” I was like ‘i know, i know—in the mountains in Virginia!!!’ . . . oh the drama . . . 🙂

Daniel got sick the day after Micah was born and couldn’t come back to the hospital during the rest of my stay. Between Daniel being sick, my own recovery, trying to learn about Micah and spend any time in the NICU that I could, I was too busy to even think about Jon’s wedding.

Initially I was told that I would be dismissed from the hospital on Sunday. I was fine with that. I was in no hurry to go home. I couldn’t even care for Mara when I got back, and I would only be able to see Micah (at the most) once a day after I went home.

But Saturday morning, after an almost sleepless night, I got a surprise when one of the nurses came in and told me that if I didn’t leave this morning, we would be personally billed for an extra day, because my insurance wouldn’t cover the next night. The next few hours were a flurry of activity: contacting one of the residents to get my stitches out, trying to meet with the lactation consultant, Micah’s neonatologist & nurses, trying to get a ride home since Daniel was working all day and had planned to pick me up on Sunday, signing stuff, packing up my things . . .

In the midst of this, my sister called and asked if I wanted her to put her cell phone on speaker phone during our brother’s wedding, so I could at least hear everything that was going on, even though I couldn’t be there. And that was when I lost it.

I wasn’t supposed to be in the hospital, recovering from a c-section with a baby in the NICU born almost 2 months early . . . I was supposed to be in South Carolina at my brother’s wedding! I was supposed to be spending time with my family for the first time in 3-1/2 years!

I knew I should just be grateful that Micah was going to be okay and that he wasn’t born in the “mountains of Virginia.” But combined with my crazy hormones, general tiredness, the pressure of having to work out the details of leaving a day early, and the sadness of leaving my little guy in the hospital, the disappointment of missing my brother’s wedding too was overwhelming.

I recovered. You do what you have to do. I clearly had no choice about whether or not to make it to the wedding, which in one sense made it easier. The decision was made for me, by God, so I need to be okay with that.

——

So when I found out I’m expecting again, and my sister is in a serious relationship?!?!?! . . . YIKES!!!!!

I said to my brother, “If I have to miss Mary’s wedding too?!?!—-BOOOOOO!!!”

So my brother said we can call this baby “Little Boo,” because I “booed” when I found out I was pregnant and might miss Mary’s wedding.

And Jon added even more encouragement: “Maybe you’ll miss a wedding every time you have a baby!”

(Wow, thanks, bro!)

“But after this, there aren’t any more!” I said. “I’ll have already missed them all.” (I just have one brother and one sister.)

“You could always miss Darla’s wedding too!” my brother reminded me, referencing Daniel’s sister.

Wow.

I think we’ll just take one day at a time . . . . . . and pray a lot!

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.