Zuri's Story: Part 1

I don't know how exactly to start this story off, so I guess I'll just... start.

On Friday, February 7th, our house was all hustle and bustle. We were preparing for a premiere the next day for the short film project Derek had produced with a friend. I was coming off of bed rest for the subchorionic hematoma and placental bleed, and I was happy to be able to help with the preparations. I dropped Toby off with my mother in law, ran a couple errunds and then picked Toby up and started making my way down town to pick up some posters for the premiere.

I was feeling tired, but just attributed it to being 21 weeks pregnant and also coming off of bed rest, my body wasn't used to being up and about anymore. As I was leaving the print shop, I started experiencing some super sharp pain in my lower abdomen. I had experienced this pain earlier in the week, but it had gone away and I didn't think anything of it until this time. It was really painful. I didn't know what to do though: I was all the in downtown Tucson and it would take me at least 20-30 minutes to get to the premiere location where Derek and my mom were. Toby was cranky so I knew I just needed to get in the car and start driving. I considered driving to the hospital and calling my mom or Derek to have them meet me there; but then the pain would subside a little and I thought I'd be okay. I kept driving. The pain kept coming and going in waves, but they didn't feel like contractions like I remembered them from Toby's birth. Sitting in the car wasn't helping, so I thought maybe I just needed to use the bathroom really bad, what with the blessed "pregnancy bladder".

I got to a Starbucks and went in to use the bathroom. It was a challenge keeping Toby from opening the door while I was peeing; I think I ended up trying to make a game out of pointing to the lights on the ceiling. Lightening the load in my bladder didn't seem to help the pain and now I was just anxious. What was going on? I was about 8 minutes away from my mom and Derek and I knew I could make it so I got back in the car to make my way to them. I called Derek but he must have been away from his phone, so I called my mom next. She answered and I told her I was on the way and told her about the pain. When I got there, my mom came out to meet me. Derek came out and I tried to just breath through the pain. We all tried to figure out what it might be and what we should do. The pain wasn't subsiding and I was getting concerned so finally it was decided that we should go to the hospital (just a side note: normally, I hate going to the hospital unless there's a limb hanging by a thread. For me to consent to going meant that I was in a lot of pain). My mom took Toby home with her because she needed to take my sister to a piano recital.

We got to the hospital, checked in, and Derek helped me to the triage station. They had me change into a gown, hooked me up to a monitor and checked the baby's heartbeat. Heartbeat sounded good, and there were only a couple of very small contractions showing on the monitor. I was starting to feel better, but now my concern was that they were going to tell me that I had a UTI, which is what I'm always told whenever I do go to the doctors for stomach pain. I knew it wasn't a UTI, and really didn't want to be sent home with a script for antibiotics. An ultrasound technician came in and did a scan to check on the placental bleed and baby's growth. Derek and I were used to ultrasounds at this point, we felt like pros. We chatted with the technician and everything seemed to be okay. She said that the doctor on call would be in shortly and then she left. Derek and I waited, we joked a bit, and discussed what we should get for dinner.

Then the doctor came in. She introduced herself and I remember thinking that she was talking really fast and that's when everything got hazy. She said that the ultrasound showed that there was no more amniotic fluid around the baby and that the baby needed the fluid to grow but there was nothing they could do so she recommended inducing labor. It was like having the rug pulled out from under us and being punched in the chest at the same time.

At first we didn't know how to react. We had lots of questions: Where did the fluid go? Couldn't they just pump me with lots of IV fluid to help make more? Did the baby seem okay right now? Why had this happened? Wasn't there something we could do?

I tried to recall if there had been a time where I thought I might have peed my pants or had a huge gush of fluid, but with constant bleeding starting from week 9 due to the hematoma, I had just gotten used to always feeling like I was "leaking" (sorry, I know that's kinda gross). The only thing I could remember was that after my previous ultrasound, I had experienced a lot of bleeding. I had called the perinatologists office, but they'd told me it was probably from all the pushing on my belly from the sonogram.

We asked the doctor if we could have some time to talk things over. As soon as she left I broke down and just started sobbing. Derek and I clung to each other and wept; we prayed, I begged God to keep our baby safe. I told Derek through broken sobs that I wasn't ready to let go of our baby. This little one had a heart beat, that meant our baby was still alive. How could I start a process my body wasn't ready to start, how I could choose to end a life when it was God who chose to create it in the first place? I couldn't do it. I said I'd do anything to keep alive, even if it meant being strapped to a bed. Derek agreed, and we both knew we were going to have to fight for our child's life. There just had to be a way.

The doctor came back and we told her we weren't going to induce, not if the baby still had a heartbeat. The doctor told us very-matter-of-factly while she understood our decision, there wasn't anything we could do to change things. We could wait until the next day to induce, but she was convinced that our baby wouldn't have a heart beat in the morning. She said that they wanted to keep me overnight anyways because my hemoglobin levels were low and I needed a blood transfusion.

We agreed to stay for the blood transfusion and to see the perinatologist in the morning. Derek called my mom and told her what was going on. I could hear her crying over the phone. She had Toby with her and they were on their way to my sister's piano recital. My mom said she would call my dad and they'd all come over. It was so comforting to know that my mom was on her way; she and I have a very special bond and I knew I was going to need her for whatever was about to come. Derek also called his parents and told them what was going on. They were on their way as well.

I got admitted, they moved us into a private room and began the process of asking loads of questions. I tried to be patient and answer them all politely. The nurse left, I started crying and just kept crying. I couldn't stop. I couldn't even comprehend all the emotions swirling around. My parents, Derek's parents, and a close friend of my family's came to be with us. We all talked, we even laughed together, and we prayed together. I got to spend a little time with Toby, who was very fascinated by my IV; he kept pointing to it and then pointing to his own hand like he wanted one.

Derek's dad reminded us of a relative who had experienced a similar situation with her recent pregnancy and suggested we call her to get her input. It was encouraging to talk to her and discover that a positive outcome is possible, even with a bleak diagnosis. When we got off the phone with her we felt encouraged and hopeful.

Derek's parents took Toby home with them, my dad and siblings left, and Derek went out to procure some food for us. My mom stayed and kept me company. The nurses started my blood transfusion. I cried while my mom held me.

Derek returned with Beef and Broccoli (anything with iron to help with my anemia). We prayed, my mom went home, and Derek and I tried to get some sleep. We knew we were in for a long journey.

The next day we waited for the perinatologist to come. All morning before he came I prayed for a miracle; that somehow there would miraculously be fluid, even if it was a little bit. I was praying for this whole thing to be some strange and awful nightmare.

My mom came and we all waited. Derek wasn't planning on attending the premiere anymore, but there were other people that we knew we could call upon to take over the plans so that the whole event didn't have to be canceled. It was so amazing how willing everyone was to help out, their kindness was just awesome.

Finally the perinatologist came and did another ultrasound. There wasn't any fluid. The baby looked good; there was a heartbeat (despite what the other doctor had said the night before), the kidneys looked like they were functioning, and there was blood flow in the umbilical cord. Besides there being no fluid everything looked fine. The perinatologist gave us the hard facts about what could happen. There was a lot of information but the gist of it was this:
-the baby needed the amniotic fluid to practice breathing
-amniotic fluid is created when the baby pees (the fact that the baby's kidneys appeared to be functioning was encouraging)
-without the amniotic fluid I was at a higher risk for infection. Uterine infections like that could spread quickly and could be fatal (to me and baby)
-without the amniotic fluid I was at a higher risk of premature labor
-if I could carry the baby past the 23 week line (which is when they consider babies "viable"), there was a high chance that the baby wouldn't survive because there is no way to tell how much damage not having the fluid would do, and if the baby did make it there was a risk of development issues.

It was important for us to understand what we were really up against, but still it was not what we wanted to hear. The doctor was on board with us trying to make it to the 23 week mark, so we made plans for him to come back for one last scan the next day and then we would go from there.

It was a long day, Derek and my mom had to come and go a few times for some last minute preparations for the premiere. My sister-in-law came to visit and was sweet enough to bring some movies for us to watch. The midwife that we had met earlier in my pregnancy (we were hoping for a home birth) came to see us; she has since become a dear friend and an amazing inspiration as a prayer warrior.

It was a long day, but a good one. Derek's parents brought Toby over for a visit. It was so good to hold that little boy, it was a great reminder of what I was fighting for- another sweet little one to cuddle with.

Derek wasn't planning on going to his premiere but I urged him to go; he had worked so hard on the movie and it would be a shame for him not to experience the first screening with everyone who had supported him. He decided to go and then he went to spend the night at his parents house; he needed a good night's sleep (hospitals are nearly impossible to sleep in!) and also we thought it would be good for Toby to see Derek in the morning. My mom stayed with me that night. We watched the Winter Olympics and enjoyed each others company.

That night a longtime friend of my mom's called and encouraged us to seek care at a hospital that was pro-life, like us. To be honest we had never thought that this could make a difference in the type of care we received. My mom's friend works as an administrator at another hospital in town and was encouraging us to go there. She gave us the name of some doctors that could be a great fit for us. I called Derek and talked the idea over with him and we agreed that being in a place that supported our strong desire to fight for our baby's life would make a difference.

The next day the perinatologist came back for one last scan. Still no fluid, but baby looked good. He wanted to discharge me and send me home until I got to 23 weeks. Our concern with going home so soon was that if something went wrong, it would take us at least forty minutes to get the hospital. We felt like it would be better if I could stay in the hospital as long as possible in case the baby was born early, at least being in the hospital meant that we were somewhere with people that would know what to do.

We left the first hospital and drove straight to another one, the one that my mom's friend had encouraged us to go to. I'm so glad we did.

We had to wait a while before seeing the doctor. She came in and had such a kind and compassionate disposition that put us at ease. She did another ultrasound, which still looked the same as the one at the other hospital. She was honest in telling us that the diagnosis we had already received was indeed the case and that there wasn't anything she could do to change it. She did however suggest that staying for a course of IV antibiotics could help prevent an infection and might keep me pregnant longer. The longer we could keep the baby in the better. After talking things over we agreed to be admitted for the antibiotics.

The new hospital was amazing. The nurses were incredibly compassionate, the rooms were calming, and it just felt like we were in a better place.

I was still overwhelmed with emotions. When the nurse tried to start an IV in me I started crying. Normally I don't cry over needles, but this was different. I didn't want to poked anymore. I didn't want to be in a hospital at all, no matter how nice it was. I wanted to be home with Toby. I wanted to feel confident that the little one growing inside me was going to be okay. I just wanted all of this to go away. I'm so glad my mom and my husband were there to encourage me and be a source of strength for me.

We went to sleep that night unsure of what was ahead of us, but we were feeling more hopeful.