How it All Went Down, Part 1

Since we all know I'm not the most abbreviated writer, I'm going to do this in (at least) 2 posts.  Many of you have told me you'd like to hear all that happened surrounding my hospitalization and Jeremiah's birth, so I figured it might make sense to just document it here.. Additionally, this was all so significant that I don't want to forget it.

On Monday, December 10th, I went to my regular checkup at 31 weeks.  I had just gone to 2 week check ups (thank God! or I might not be here today, seriously).  For the first time in this pregnancy, my blood pressure was elevated and protein was detected in my urine.  It was assumed that I had preeclampsia, but my midwife and Dr. needed to be sure.  I was sent home w/ a lovely little 24 hour urine collection jug (yes, that works exactly as it sounds, ick), put on modified bed rest, and told that I'd probably just hang out on there for several weeks and then deliver a bit early, maybe.  However, something told me otherwise.  I tried to choke back my tears as I gathered the big kids and we went home.

Shortly thereafter, I developed a serious migraine.  Knowing that this could be a sign of preeclampsia, I called my midwife but she wasn't concerned just yet. I took some Tylenol, attempted a nap, and called my chiropractor for an appointment later that afternoon.  Unfortunately, after throwing up twice that day, plus the chiro adjustment, I was not getting better, but in fact worse.  I called the provider on call and was instructed to head into either the ER or prompt care.  Unfortunately (or fortunately?), prompt care was closed shortly before we got there, so we headed in to the ER (my intuition from earlier in the day confirmed I wondered?).

This part was frustrating.  At this hospital, when a pregnant woman goes into the ER, unless she has an actual, right-now-we-need-to-save-her-life emergency, the staff is *supposed* to send her up to labor and delivery and let them take care of her.  However, the ER Dr. insisted on getting paid  doing his own assessment which took a few hours of waiting and tests (grrr).  It wasn't until he agreed w/ my midwife's assessment from earlier in the day that he agreed to call my Dr.  Sigh.  So finally, up to L&D I went to be observed for the evening, as directed by my Dr.

I spent that evening in the hospital and was sent home on very strict bed rest - the kind where you can only get up to the bathroom.  I was instructed to get into my midwife/Dr.'s office for a follow up that day or the next.    Based on the urine test result, when I got to the office later that day, I was told to go home, figure out stuff for the kiddos, pack a bag, and head straight in to the hospital here in town.  I'd probably just hang out, stabilize, and go home in a few days.

Once we got to the hospital, lots of tests and strict bed rest resumed.  Unfortunately, I did not stabilize as everyone had hoped and instead my condition worsened after a couple of days.  By Friday afternoon, we were being told that our care was being transferred to a hospital an hour away, since our local hospitals don't have preemie care, 'just in case.' I would need to be on 24 hour monitoring for our now high risk case.

This next part is kind of funny.  I got a phone call in the room, and the woman on the line identified herself as one of the nurses w/ the hospital.  She made sure that I'd been informed of my pending transfer and then asked, "All we have available today is the helicopter.  Is that okay for you?"  Um - do I have a choice?

It wasn't long before a flurry of events began to take place.  Honestly, it's all a bit fuzzy in my brain because it happened so fast.  What I do remember is that (another THANK GOD!) a friend from church was visiting when we received the news.  She prayed with and for me and really helped me stay calm in the midst of the storm until my husband was able to arrive from work.

Over the course of several minutes, all I remember is lots of nurses flocking in to get me ready and my blood pressure sky rocketing again. (I wonder why?)  Nurses flocking, meds administered, IV inserted, strapping me to the helicopter cot, etc.  One random thing I remember is my flight nurse trying to keep me calm and get me laughing.  I just kept thinking, "Thanks lady, but I am just not w/ you right now."  Poor woman, she tried.

I also began to get very terrified because I wasn't sure what in the world was going to happen to me once I was transferred.  The phrase 'possible c-section' had become a regular part of everyone's vocabulary by that point.  Needless to say, I was more than a bit scared but kept trying to remind myself Who was in control of all of this.

The other big thought I had was not wanting to be alone once I got there, although my husband wasn't able to accompany me in the helicopter.  Here is my shameless plug for my doula.  (You've been warned.)

I was SO very thankful at this point that we had hired Malory to be our doula.  Seriously - BEYOND thankful.  I made a point of telling Bryan to call her and keep calling till she picked up (as she might not recognize his number).  My ride would be about 20 minutes, we live 45-ish minutes away from the hospital I was being transferred to, and Malory lives smack dab in the middle.  I figured if we could just get a hold of her, she'd be there if she could at all possibly drop everything and get there.

Thankfully, he helicopter ride wasn't bad.  I just kept trying to focus on getting there.  One thought that kept me sane the whole time was thinking, "I may not be enjoying this, but I sure have a good story for my big kids (3 and 4 years old) when we talk on the phone later."  I figured if I wasn't really enjoying the ride, I could at least use it to bring a little joy to my kiddos (whom I hadn't seen in 4 days) later on.  Needless to say I was right.  They were thrilled at the thought of their mama's adventure, even if I wasn't.

To Be Continued...