This blog is about to take a new direction, at least for the next few months or so. Usually I post rants or what-nots about various things that interest me but you can likely expect a lot fewer posts like those for a while. This blog, for the time being, will focus on my journey as a mother of a preemie. I will still post other things - crochet patterns and other frivolous interests - but there will likely be more purpose to this page than there used to be.
One thing I do want to discuss because I haven't been able to get on in awhile, is the power of positive thinking (or prayer, if that's your thing). My last blog entry was made when I found out my cousin was dying. Turns out, the day I wrote that post, my cousin - who was scheduled to begin donorship (not a word, but it fits) of his organs, was being granted a reprieve, thanks to one of his doctors, who decided to go over his scans one last time. It fits with the theme of this post in particular, because she trusted her instincts, got a second opinion, ceased the process, and now my cousin is on his way to recovery. He has a long journey to go and we don't know exactly what his end-results will be, but every day brings with it new progress for him, of which we are all grateful.
On Monday, September 5 2016, I woke up feeling like shit. Not unusual as I was 32 weeks pregnant and my pregnancies aren't the most uneventful gastrointestinal excursions my body undergoes...underwent. That's not ever happening again, but I'll get to that in a bit.
My entire torso from the center of my belly and up to my head, felt like it was on fire. I did end up getting physically sick, called my midwife, did a few things she suggested, and tried to let it pass. When it didn't - it actually progressed into full-blown headache, blurry/loss of vision, vomiting, and dizziness - I tried to get a hold of my clinic again. It was a holiday but there should have been a nurse line open. Unfortunately, the system had automatically turned the answering service over so that the phones were running as if it were a business day...which meant no one was actually there to answer the phones and the only way to get through to a nurse was to leave a message...which I did, at first. Make no mistake, they did get back to me. The next day.
After sitting on hold for 30 minutes, I decided to head over to my childbirthing center to get checked out. Now, I thought it was a migraine. I thought I was being maybe a tad melodramatic but my head hurt like a bitch and I knew that they'd give me some pain killers and fluids and send me on my way. Not how I wanted to spend Labor day - we had made plans to do a whole lot of nothing (literally) for Andy's birthday and it was going to be a great day off. We'd had our baby sprinkle the day before so all three of us were looking forward to the day off and some rest. So, not how I wanted to spend my holiday but I wasn't about to spend it completely miserable either.
Here's the thing. For a moment, the headache subsided enough that I thought maybe I'd just stay home. But instead of regretting it later (which I would have), we decided to go in anyway.
I'll cut to the chase because frankly, I need to get going here. On Monday, September 5 2016, my son and I almost died. There's no melodrama here because frankly, it's simply the facts. Had I listened to that voice in my head - which had been put there by people in my youth btw (probably get to that some day but not now, and yes clearly I have a hard time letting certain things go) - telling me that I was probably over-reacting, I wouldn't have made it to L&D in time. I would have likely stroked out, my son's placenta would have completely abrupted, and that would have been the end of it. My son was delivered at 5:44 pm via c-section due to preeclampsia and fetal heart-rate complications (his BP at one point had dropped from 150 to 70 bmp). Apparently his placenta had began abruption (possibly) a few days earlier and that might have been what started everything. They don't know really what causes preeclampsia. I was not at all at risk for preeclampsia - I have never had heart problems or blood pressure issues, I'm not over-weight and while I don't eat the best, I am by far from the unhealthiest of eaters. In fact, we had just started switching our diets to something far more body-friendly and one of the things I had decreased was salt intake.
I need to head out to the NICU. My son and I both made it through this. As of last night, he's progressing well for a 32 weeker. We're both on the way to recovering. I'm on bp medicine for the next few weeks, until I'm no longer at risk for regression. Apparently the "cure" for preeclampsia is delivery of the baby but the main event is kind of like throwing a stone in a puddle. It takes a bit for the water to calm again and you can get stuck in a ripple if you aren't careful (there's your analogy for the day). I still have high blood pressure and hopefully that'll go back to normal now that I'm on a daily med for it.
The moral: being melodramatic and overly cautious of your health might annoy people (don't let it get out of hand - there is a thing called hypochondria and it's a real illness, but this isn't what I'm referring to). It might be inconvenient to your schedule because the last 8 times you went in to get checked out for something, it wasn't nearly as serious as Dr. Google made you think it was...but it's that one time that matters. Trust your gut. It's there to save your life when you need it.
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