On March 17th, everything seemed like a normal day. We had our little hiccup on Monday, but ever since then everything appeared to look fine. We had talked about possibly having another amnio done to drain some more fluid off of me because I had started to retain again. (I can tell you this Momma was not exactly thrilled about repeating that procedure.) Tomorrow, the specialist would return to perform another US and assess the cord flow from the placenta to Harper and my doctor would consult with her regarding the results. I was told there was no need to worry yet, and that is just what I tried to do. Not Worry.
That night Levi and Adam came for their usual visit. I got out of the bed and into the wheelchair and around the hospital we went. It was the best part of my day for sure. I was allowed one wheelchair ride a day outside of my room and I always saved that for when Levi came to visit. He would sit on my lap and Adam would wheel us around. Most of the time we would end up on a little patio outside of the cafeteria where I could watch Levi run around and just get a little fresh air. Man, how I had missed that kid so much while Harper and I were in the hospital. We made it back to the room from our adventure that night and I climbed back into bed, with Levi right beside me. This night was a little different though, as the evening went on I started to feel "blah". I told Adam, it might be time to head home, that I just wasn't feeling great and thought I should lie down and see if maybe it was because I was tired. My left side just started to ache and I just felt like I couldn't shake it. I gave each one a kiss, told them I loved them and as Adam went out the door he turned around and said "I'm sure it's ok, but let's hope I don't end up back here tonight." and then he gave me a half smile. I knew what that half smile might have meant, but I told him "I'm sure it's ok, but I'll keep you posted."
Not more than five minutes after they left the ache I felt on my left side began to intensify. I called the nurse in just to let her know. I still thought it was just something silly, that they would tell me she had shifted or moved funny. I had my favorite nurse and she assessed me from head to toe and of course the monitors came back out for little Miss Harper. This time it appeared I was having contractions, and not just the small unnoticeable ones I had been having since I had been admitted. I remember thinking "No No No, this is not Labor. I have three more weeks until the ideal time to deliver. It can't be right now. Harper isn't ready." The nurse gave me some Tylenol, had me rest a bit and after about 45 minutes the pain disappeared about as quickly as it appeared. The contractions eased up on the machine as well. The nurse made me promise her that if I felt the pain again I would let her know. I promised and off to sleep I went eagerly awaiting what the specialist would have to say tomorrow. Either way, I always loved the days I got to see Harper on the monitor.
On March 18, 2016 I woke up to what I thought was just a freezing room. I remember scolding myself, "Kate, why did you turn the air down so much?" I was non stop shivering I was so cold. I texted Adam and told him I couldn't believe I did that. Fifteen minutes went by and I still couldn't stop shivering, it almost seemed like it was getting worse. What is going on I thought? I stayed in bed and just tried to get more comfortable and tried to warm myself. I felt so silly having to page the nurse because I felt cold. After 45 minutes, I realized it wasn't the room, it had to be me. I wasn't even able to stand up and walk to the bathroom because I was shaking so much. I texted Adam and told him I didn't feel well just to keep him posted. He asked if he should come and I told him "Not yet, I think I'll be ok, I"ll let you know." I paged the nurse and she brought me in a second heated blanket. It didn't stop the shivering but I immediately felt warmer. My vitals were checked and nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Stable blood pressure, stable temperature. So out comes the monitor again. As I lie there, with the monitor attached around my belly and Harper moving around like crazy I began to feel that left side pain again. I texted Adam, "I think I need you to come, I really don't feel well this morning." He responded quickly, "Ok I just made it to the office, let me check my desk and I'll be right over." The nurse entered my room again and I told her I couldn't lie in this position anymore, the pain was too much to bear. I had to sit up. I needed to be comfortable. She was so concerned about getting a good reading on the monitor and I told her we could adjust it but for now I had to sit up. Through the shivering I managed to make it to the edge of the bed. It eased the pain some and I began working on my breathing. I was trying to slow everything around me. The monitor was reading everything, I was contracting again. All I remember thinking in my head was "No No No, this is not happening today, I have three more weeks left before I am suppose to deliver. No No No, everything is fine."
Adam arrived, and I was so incredibly thankful to see him walk through that door. He sat down beside me and gave me the look of "everything will be fine". With him there, I instantly felt better, I instantly felt calm. He knew what to say at every moment, he knew we were ready to fight for our daughter. As the minutes passed by, the pain started back but this time no position was making it better. I tried to lie down, there it was. I tried to sit back up, there it was. I tried to stand up and walk, there it was. My doctor was notified.
I was put on a fluid only diet and an IV was to be started. The nurse checked my vitals again and still, all remained fine. As the nurse attempted to put the IV in I felt pain near that vein. I'm usually a really easy stick and my veins are really easy to find so I knew right away she had missed. I remember telling her "That stings and burns so badly". I watched her fumble around a bit and then heard her say, "Dang, that vein blew." She tried about two more times, each vein doing the same thing. She left to go get another nurse to attempt. The other nurse was apparently the "expert" of IVs. She explained she worked the trauma floor of the last hospital she was in and that IVs were just her thing. She also stated, I'm only going to try three times and then I'm done sticking. She tried once, the vein blew. She tried twice, the vein blew. She then asked for my vitals to be taken again. As the blood pressure machine deflated I saw her face at the reading. It wasn't quite panic, but it was borderline of extreme concern. My blood pressure had dropped to 70/30. She tried one more time to get an IV in me while the other nurses prepped my bed for me to be moved. She was able to get a pediatric needle in and that was called a success and down the hallway I was being moved, rather briskly.
Sometimes this moment and this day seem such a blur because everything happened so quickly that morning and sometimes I re-live this day with such clarity. I was wheeled into the pre op room where the anesthesiologist was waiting for me. I remember the first thing she said like it was yesterday, "Who put a pediatric needle in you?!" She was so annoyed, you could tell by her voice. I explained that my veins were blowing and after about 6 attempts that was the best they could get. She was explaining how because of my blood pressure (which was still extremely low and showing no signs of stabilizing) she may need to put me under for the procedure and therefore she needed to find a good vein. I told her it was fine and thought to myself "Oh boy, here we go again." She of course blew the first vein she attempted. I could tell she was frustrated with herself. While she attempted a second time the other nurses in the room were prepping me for surgery. It was chaotic. It was madness. It was non stop, all while Adam and I had no idea what was happening.
I was scared, I was sad, I was disappointed in myself. But there was also a part of me that shimmered a glimpse of Hope. We were going to meet out little fighter finally. We were going to get to see our beautiful baby girl. I remember during this time there was a ton of pleading with God on my part, and with Harper. "Please God, let her be ok." "C'mon Harper, you can do this."
The anesthesiologist finally got an IV in, she told me it was iffy but it was strong enough to last for what they needed to do. The room was still spinning with madness. Complete Chaos. I remember I would look to my left, where I would see Adam, sitting on the couch, being handed an OR room suit and being asked to put it on. He was just as confused as I was, and yet he never once showed me concern, he never once showed me fear. He was calm, he was collected, he too was soaking it all in. Looking for an answer. He was pure strength that day, he was pure love that day, he was everything Harper and I needed at that moment. I mean at this point, we still had no idea what was happening exactly?
After about a half hour my doctor walked briskly through the pre op doors. The most calm and authoritative face I had seen all morning and she was ready to bring some order to this chaos. "Ok, I need everyone to calm down. I'm not even sure she's in true labor, I want to get a few labs before we attempt anything, Adam, you can go ahead and take that OR outfit off and just relax a bit. Kate, how are you feeling?"
THANK YOU!
Finally, I saw the hope again. Maybe this isn't going to be her delivery day? Maybe everything will just look like a little hiccup like the other day and I will get to go back to my room and let Harper continue to fight inside of me? Maybe, just maybe everything will be ok?
My labs were performed and they had a rush order placed on them. After about 10 minutes I remember my doctor asking, "What is taking so long? Why don't I have the results back?" She left the room to only arrive back through the door in just a few moments. "Kate, I think it's time to deliver, your labs look like you might be going septic. I promise I've alerted NICU and they are completely ready for what might come." I looked over at Adam and it took everything in me not to break down at that moment. I knew this day was going to happen at some point. I was just selfishly hoping I had a few more weeks with her inside of me. I whispered to my daughter "Ok Harper, here we go, we've got this."
As they wheeled me into the OR room, Adam never left my side. He looked and felt so calm, ready to embrace whatever the next few minutes might bring. I could feel it, and because of him I was able to relax, I was able to focus on what I had to do now. Safely deliver this little girl. My doctor agreed to let me have an epidural instead of going fully under. Those words were music to my ears since the thought of a breathing tube being placed in me added more anxiety than was needed to this situation.
The epidural was placed and my blood pressure continued to be monitored very closely. Why could I still feel my stomach though? My doctor pinched me with the forceps, "Yep, I can still feel it." I could hear the nervousness in the voice of the anesthesiologist, "I think I need to put her under." I asked the doctor to give me one moment, I sat up just a little bit in order to see if I could get the medicine to flow downwards (I know that sounds so strange, but at that moment something told me to try it) and it worked! The doctor gave me one more last pinch before I was to go under and thankfully I could no longer feel it. I told her, I was numb and quickly and steadily without hesitation she went to work all while I just laid there, on that table, praying... over and over and over again.
I could feel them shifting me around, working vigorously to get Harper out quickly, safely and into the arms of the NICU team waiting in the OR room with us. How I wish she could have went to her Dad, how I wish I could have given her one quick kiss as she was born. As they were working on me behind the dreaded curtain I could here my doctor say, "Oh God, she's so much bigger than we thought." That one sentence will forever remain engrained in my memory. I wasn't sure what that meant; days before the specialist told me they thought the fluid under her skin looked better and that we were just seeing "fatty" tissue because she was going to be a plump little baby. Did she grow enough to be able to be saved? Was it fluid or just a chubby little baby? Oh please tell me she is going to be ok. I hear them say, "She's out!" and I can hear the rustling of the NICU team, calling out procedures and working so diligently to get Harper out of the OR room and into the NICU. {As from my last post, a successful Hydrops case was one where they could stabilize Harper enough to get her out of the OR room.} I remained on the table, focused on a specific tile on the ceiling because the room had begun to spin. I was listening so intently to what the NICU team was saying. My doctor peeked over the drape several times asking if I was ok to which I responded, "A little dizzy but just trying to stay focused."
Apparently during the surgery the anesthesiologist was giving me rounds of a medication to help stabilize my blood pressure that I was unaware of. My blood pressure was continuing to drop and my OB was having a hard time getting my bleeding to stop. My body was experiencing something called DIC, my blood wasn't clotting due to the stress that it was under. I never once heard her voice crack, or an ounce of panic come from her. Until this was all over, I had no idea the situation I was in myself, that I would end up having to fight for my life too.
The NICU staff was able to stabilize Harper enough to take her out of the OR, as my OB continued to attempt to stop the bleeding she told Adam to go follow our little girl, that I would be ok. Adam walked to the other side of the OR where he could take a few pictures of our beautiful baby before they whisked her out the room. Adam gave me a kiss and away he went with Harper but before they left the room, my OB told me to look to my left and the NICU doctor help up my baby girl before they left the room. My OB informed me that Harper's Apgar scores were looking better than she would have imagined and that she had a score of 7 before she left the OR. I took that as such a positive sign. I remember thinking I could relax when I heard that bit of information and in that moment my favorite word flooded my being again.... HOPE. She was going to pull through this, WE were going to pull through this.
Adam was back in the OR about 10 minutes later. They were about to begin a procedure to place a permanent chest tube drain in her so he was asked to step out. He made it back just in time to follow me to the ICU, where I was being escorted by the two doctors who operated on me and a couple of nurses. My OB never left my side through this entire procedure. I'm not sure how she does it, but to say she was my Hero that day is most definitely an understatement. I always knew I had the best OB, and this moment just defined exactly what I already knew.
At this point they had removed my epidural before I could leave the operating table down in the OR room. They were nervous about an open site that I may bleed from since I wasn't clotting like I should. PAIN. Oh boy, did I feel it. I felt everything that had just happened to me and more. Now besides the emotional strain that I was under, I had the physical pain as well. They gave me a dose of pain meds but it dropped my blood pressure too low. At that moment, I knew that I was just going to have to fight through this. I told myself "I got this." As I was lying there, test after test was being ordered. My kidneys were going to be assessed and the hospital was currently matching my blood type so that I could receive a blood transfusion as soon as possible. The ICU doctor came in to assess me, "Well the good news is, your doctor took care of the hard part for me and stopped the bleeding. Now let's see if we can get you feeling better."
Please tell me Harper is doing ok?
Once my blood pressure stabilized I was given a morphine pump to aide with the pain. I was hooked up to my blood transfusion and Adam had been back to the NICU to take some more picture of Harper for me and to sit with her for a bit. She was such a beautiful baby, enduring the biggest fight of her life. In the hospital I thought I had prepared myself for what they were going to have to do to help her survive after birth. I knew there would be drains, I knew there would be a ventilator, I knew she would be in the NICU... but nothing actually prepares you for watching your sick child fight so strongly. Not a moment went by, when they were working on me in the ICU that I wasn't thinking of our little girl on the floor below me. I was determined to get better, because I was going to meet my daughter. Throughout that day, and due to the medicine, most things become a little fuzzy; I remember I was in and out of sleep. Adam was back and forth between spending time with me and spending time with our daughter. How exhausting that day had to be for him? But for that day, we were both holding strong, Mommy and Daughter, for that day and two others we would be an earthly family of four and for that I am so, so thankful.
For the rest of that day, Harper was stabilized. Two drains to assist with getting the fluid off of her, several tubes that were used for medication and a ventilator to help her breathe were all I remember. She was sick, but she was fighting. She lost a pound and a half of fluid within 24 hours, but at 34 weeks she was one of the biggest babies this NICU had ever seen. From the outside, once the fluid came off, she looked like a healthy 38 week baby, weighing the same as her older brother and looking almost identical to him. Except this little girl had blonde hair, this little girl had "Mommy's Hair". She was perfect.
Welcome to the story of how Harper came into this world on March 18, 2016. Mommy and Daddy were instantly in love and knew not a day would go by that she wouldn't be whole heartedly a part of our lives. She was our family and we were hers. So, in honor of my beautiful daughter's birthday, I will once again pick up another broken piece on this Unimaginable Journey and beautifully place it back where it belongs all while celebrating her earthly life with lots of love, laughter and sweet, sweet memories. We love you so much Harper Lynn.
* HAPPY FIRST BIRTHDAY in Heaven SWEET GIRL! *
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