Wednesday, December 1, 2010
Seeing December on the calendar makes me sad....
Today was a sad one..seeing December on the calendar just reminds me that I was due THIS month. I try not to let it get me down but how could it not? I try so hard to live in the present and not think what could have been. That barely ever works...but I keep practicing. I think about how "pregnant" I would have been now...probably pretty uncomfortable by now but loving every minute of him kicking me. I surprise myself that looking at other people's newborns doesn't make me cry or make me sad...it actually just makes me mad. Not mad that they have happiness or a beautiful healthy baby but mad that I don't...and not just ANY baby but him.
Saturday, November 27, 2010
Day...oh shit, I have no idea..
Over two months have passed. I would like to document more of the events that happened but I am just not ready to dive into them in detail. I would have to ask Bret questions because I am starting to realize that I have many holes in the sequence of events.
Ronin passed away on September 20th 2010 at 12:11pm our 2nd year wedding anniversary. We were there. The last hour of his life was so sad. I really can't think of any other words to describe it. I wasn't scared because it was eminent. I wasn't scared because in my heart I knew WE would one day be ok. One day. No one should ever have to go through the last hour of their baby's life like we did. He will be apart of our lives' forever.
When we woke up that day I spoke to the nurse and she reported that the Doctor on call wanted to talk to us. I had that sinking feeling and knew that was not a good sign. We hurried to the hospital and we confronted by a very sick little boy. Over night it was clear that something was not going well. His platelet count and hermatocrit (blood level) dropped or shall I say plummeted for a baby with less that a pint of blood running through his whole little body. The previous 17 days of his life the doctors had kept saying, "stop looking at the monitors and interpretting the numbers (which we had become very good at) keep looking at your baby. He will tell you". There isn't a truer statement. This time he WAS telling us he couldn't hold on any longer and Ronin he was dying. It was pretty clear to me. His coloring was off, his facial expression was miserable. He looked sick.
We had our meeting with the Dr. Buxton. She discussed her thoughts and what we could try but she made it clear that things didn't look very promising. I will spare you the details blah blah blah because nothing is very interesting. In fact, all I wanted to do was get back to the NICU where Ronin was and stop wasting the final minutes of his life.
Ronin waited for us to return before his arrhythmias began (erratic heart rate). His heart was jumping and falling which in my opinion sounds very painful and scary. If my heart did that and I was conscious of it I would be petrified. Was he conscious of it? Possibly? Maybe not? No one will ever be able to tell me if he was, and that fact makes my tears fall on the keyboard as I type.It makes me so mad that we live in a society where I can walk into a clinic with my ailing pet and they can end the suffering, but my baby boy had to endure it all.
His last hour of injections of calcium, changes on the ventilator and 2 finger CPR will forever be stained in my mind. His heart rate went from 160 to 120 to 60 back up and down several times until it finally rested at 0.
We had the opportunity to hold him ONLY after he died. Part of my is sad because I would have liked to have felt life inside of him aside from the electrical pulses of death. The other part of me is happy I didn't because I probably would have blamed myself for moving him if things went bad right after.
Bret and I held each other so tight. Seeing him hold his dead son tortures me. I try not to think of it often but when I do I really lose it. I like to lose it alone. We went home and just cried together and held each other. Our stress of going back and forth to the NICU was over but we missed it.
Ronin passed away on September 20th 2010 at 12:11pm our 2nd year wedding anniversary. We were there. The last hour of his life was so sad. I really can't think of any other words to describe it. I wasn't scared because it was eminent. I wasn't scared because in my heart I knew WE would one day be ok. One day. No one should ever have to go through the last hour of their baby's life like we did. He will be apart of our lives' forever.
When we woke up that day I spoke to the nurse and she reported that the Doctor on call wanted to talk to us. I had that sinking feeling and knew that was not a good sign. We hurried to the hospital and we confronted by a very sick little boy. Over night it was clear that something was not going well. His platelet count and hermatocrit (blood level) dropped or shall I say plummeted for a baby with less that a pint of blood running through his whole little body. The previous 17 days of his life the doctors had kept saying, "stop looking at the monitors and interpretting the numbers (which we had become very good at) keep looking at your baby. He will tell you". There isn't a truer statement. This time he WAS telling us he couldn't hold on any longer and Ronin he was dying. It was pretty clear to me. His coloring was off, his facial expression was miserable. He looked sick.
We had our meeting with the Dr. Buxton. She discussed her thoughts and what we could try but she made it clear that things didn't look very promising. I will spare you the details blah blah blah because nothing is very interesting. In fact, all I wanted to do was get back to the NICU where Ronin was and stop wasting the final minutes of his life.
Ronin waited for us to return before his arrhythmias began (erratic heart rate). His heart was jumping and falling which in my opinion sounds very painful and scary. If my heart did that and I was conscious of it I would be petrified. Was he conscious of it? Possibly? Maybe not? No one will ever be able to tell me if he was, and that fact makes my tears fall on the keyboard as I type.It makes me so mad that we live in a society where I can walk into a clinic with my ailing pet and they can end the suffering, but my baby boy had to endure it all.
His last hour of injections of calcium, changes on the ventilator and 2 finger CPR will forever be stained in my mind. His heart rate went from 160 to 120 to 60 back up and down several times until it finally rested at 0.
We had the opportunity to hold him ONLY after he died. Part of my is sad because I would have liked to have felt life inside of him aside from the electrical pulses of death. The other part of me is happy I didn't because I probably would have blamed myself for moving him if things went bad right after.
Bret and I held each other so tight. Seeing him hold his dead son tortures me. I try not to think of it often but when I do I really lose it. I like to lose it alone. We went home and just cried together and held each other. Our stress of going back and forth to the NICU was over but we missed it.
Friday, September 10, 2010
Day 4
Day 4: Wednesday September 1st
Around 9:00am the nurse, Naomi, who reminded me of an Amish milk made took care of me. She was very sweet and supportive. She began to notice "irritabilities" on the "tacho". She monitored and seemingly became more concerned within the hour. She had Dr. Karana come in to check on me. He asked if I wanted to be checked digitally. I was concerned because I knew that this exam could be disruptive to the amniotic sac. I wanted to speak to Dr. Mentakis. He and I had established relationship and I trusted him. We spoke and he felt that it was prudent to check. We wouldn't know what to do unless we knew what the diagnosis was. How would we treat it if we were unsure. I called Bret and he was on his was in a flash. The Doctor checked me. I was scared. I had visions of the amniotic bag popping right then and there. I warned him to be gentle. He had this swagger about him and a sense of humor that under normal circumstances I would have enjoyed. Right now, not so much. He scared me a lot when he checked me. He closed his eyes and looked like he was on a digging expedition or perhaps that he was squeezing to take a crap. Either way, I wasn't fond of it. He confirmed that I was now 4cm dilated and 100% effaced. My anxiety was needless to say, through the roof.
I was moved downstairs swiftly. Bret hadn't even returned yet and I was already brought back downstairs with my MAG dosage increased to 5mg for the first hour, 4mg the second our until it leveled out at 4 mg. Needless to say I was delirious and inhumanely thirsty. The higher the magnesium dosage the less fluids you can take for of Pulmonary Edema.
I wasn't feeling these contractions intensely possibly due to the fact that my uterus was so small given my almost 24 weeks pregnancy. I made the effort to each some lunch even though I was flat on my back. Bret and I talked, I cried, we talked. He continued to breath for me.
Once I was somewhat settled the resident Doctor came in. I liked her but she still needed to soften her bedside manner and intensity a wee bit. Her name was Dr. Dinklespeil. Her name it itself was scary. She is very young, probably not much over 30. She came in asking me about what my options where and what I was going to do if I went into active labor that day. She scared the shit out of me and I was frustrated that she didn't wait until Bret got there.
She discussed the options of a natural birth or a "classic" C-section. She explained that if the baby's heart rate decreased they would have to do an emergency C-section. This type of C-section required a vertical incision (internally) on my uterus and traditional horizontal line on my tummy. This would be the safest route to get the baby out. The idea of having a natural birth scared me. Would the baby be alive? (yes, his heart rate was perfect. Which would be more traumatizing? I had to decide what was best but I wouldn't do it without my love.
Later that evening Nicole, the hospital manager introduced herself and discussed how we didn't really have an option in terms of not resuscitating one 24 weeks was here at midnight. She was gathering the team of specialists to discuss the situation and what to expect. I wonder now if they felt that delivery was coming sooner than later or they were truly trying to prepare us. Either way, a team of 6 specialists came in. The discussion was lead my Dr. Hererra who I have grown so fond of. Words can't express how grateful I am to her. Regardless of the outcome I know she has completely and wholeheartedly done everything in her power to prove our baby with the highest level of care.
Dr. Hererra tenderly discussed the plan. She looked at me in the eyes, held my hand and displayed the must genuine of emotion. She talked about outcomes and options. She shed some light on positive stories and the worst case scenarios. The discussion, as I lay in bed took a little over an hour. Bret, level headed as usual didn't feel like we received any new information, rather confirmation of what had already be expressed. We learned the dangerous game of asking a doctor "what would you do?". Asking that question can realy muddy that waters. The previous day we asked that question of Dr. Mentakis. He answered our question but the response only correlated in a perfect world. Dr. Mentakis agreed that he would limit intervention in a baby that was not yet 24 weeks. We thought that meant that would continue to be an option for us. However, as 24 weeks rapidly approached, that was no longer an option. A week has passed and I am happy that it never became a choice we had to make. It was really made for us in a roundabout way.
Thursday, September 9, 2010
Day 3
Tuesday: August 31st, 2010
Bret had gone home the previous morning at 3am to get sleep. He returned at around 11am to find me upstairs in a room that was designated for less of an acute situation. They felt my contractions were being maintained and the level of care would be less than require down on the second floor. I had a super sweet nurse (Jessica) who I bonded with in the days to come. I tried to get comfortable, as comfortable as one can get flat on the back. I was hopeful that the MAG and Indomethacin were helping to stop my contractions. I was doing a lot of tossing and turning trying to find a spot that I could tolerate. I even allowed myself to eat on my side with my head slightly up. I was anxious about the prospect of going to the bathroom in bed. I knew the worst thing I could do was be constipated. The pressure was the last thing y cervix needed. The stool softener they gave me had yet to work and the worry loomed over my head.
Bret's Dad and Step mom came around 6pm that evening bringing magazines and a book that I requested. My spirits were up a bit and I was able to have a bit of a conversation before falling asleep. A long restless night was ahead. I just couldn't fall asleep. I was concerned about taking any extra meds for fear of hurting the baby. I had no choice though. The stress of not sleeping was inevitably doing more damage than a low dose of Ambien would. I took it and it doing virtually nothing. I wasn't intentionally fighting sleep but I couldn't help it. I got through most of the night by talking to my brother. We chatted for at least an hour. It helped me make it through the night. I think I finally fell asleep around 5am to 7am.
Day 2
Monday: August 30th, 2010
Monday was a very tearful, heart wrenching day. Coming to the conclusion that if I had our baby today we would most likely have to make a decision to refuse medical intervention. The changes of him living were limited prior to 24 weeks. Every day's fetal development increase survival rates and likelihood of serious complications. Bret and I decided agreed that quality of life wad of the utmost importance to us. We felt that if the chances of serious neuro-developmental issues (possible cerebral palsy) were great than being humane and allowing our baby to pass naturally was right for us. Watching Bret cry, me crying and the uncertainty of how long I would hold out was terrifying. We held on to each other. The doctors and nurses (Jane, my angel nurse who I will remain friends with forever) tried to reassure us that many woman came, were but on bed rest for months and sometimes never continued to dilate. Hopefully this would be out story....not so lucky. I was really scared, cried intermittently, started to learn my new lifestyle. I had to do everything in bed and I mean EVERYTHING. I began to learn the art of eating laying down. This certainly burned and caused much need for Tums. I struggled with the desire to eat anything the first day. Bret left the hospital at 7am to get some essentials from home: my phone charger, feed the rats and Libby Cita and returned quickly. He bought me a banana and a bagel which a week later, as I sit and type he reminds me, I failed to eat. Bret was insistent upon me trying to eat something. I needed fuel.I attempted to eat but was becoming acclimated to the MAG and my intense thirst. I ate some melon right after taking a stool softener and taking a prenatal. I puked within 10 minutes. I should have known better than accepting a prenatal vitamin early in the morning on an empty stomach. Later that day I was willing to try an eat. Bret got my my favorite, Pasta Village (penne, spinach and mushrooms).
Through out the day we announced our new home (hospital) and situation to family and some friends and relied on each others strength throughout the day. I had my moments of strength with Bret's moments of dismay. We alternated. We communicated. Bret shared with me how he drive home and cried all the way. Our common fear, the greatest one was we would either have to make a decision of ending intervention or we would have a severely impaired child. Quality of life is the MOST important thing to us.
Later that evening Maria and Amanda both came to visit. I was in and out of clarity. it made me feel good to have their live and support and took a few minutes of pressure of Bret for my mind was being semi occupied. Maria has been the best. I know she is there for me and I am grateful. I can be myself with her. I let her know when I am scared and uncertain and when I am strong and determined. The night was sleepless and still continues to be so. I have not truly slept through the night in over 9 days. The sleepless nights are a cruel and unusual punishment. Your mind never stops and your blood pressure pulsates through every vein and artery. They offered me a sleeping pill but I was too concerned about how it would effect the baby. Sleeping was also difficult because I couldn't find a comfortable position. Being on my back didn't feel good because it promoted contractions. Being on my side only lasted so long because my hips would hurt. The Tachometer (contraction monitor) was driving me nuts. I wanted to confirm every contraction and stop them. The contractions were very mild and were not even considered contractions by the nurses. They were "irritabilities" or blips. Essentially, a tremor vs an earthquake.
Bret tried to sleep on the awful couch on Monday night and did so until 3am. I sent him home. He needed to get sleep and was certainly not going to do so on that so called bed. I needed him to be present the next day and the best way for him to do so was to get some rest. It relaxed me a bit to know he would get sleep even if I didn't. One of us would have clarity if the other didn't.
Monday was a very tearful, heart wrenching day. Coming to the conclusion that if I had our baby today we would most likely have to make a decision to refuse medical intervention. The changes of him living were limited prior to 24 weeks. Every day's fetal development increase survival rates and likelihood of serious complications. Bret and I decided agreed that quality of life wad of the utmost importance to us. We felt that if the chances of serious neuro-developmental issues (possible cerebral palsy) were great than being humane and allowing our baby to pass naturally was right for us. Watching Bret cry, me crying and the uncertainty of how long I would hold out was terrifying. We held on to each other. The doctors and nurses (Jane, my angel nurse who I will remain friends with forever) tried to reassure us that many woman came, were but on bed rest for months and sometimes never continued to dilate. Hopefully this would be out story....not so lucky. I was really scared, cried intermittently, started to learn my new lifestyle. I had to do everything in bed and I mean EVERYTHING. I began to learn the art of eating laying down. This certainly burned and caused much need for Tums. I struggled with the desire to eat anything the first day. Bret left the hospital at 7am to get some essentials from home: my phone charger, feed the rats and Libby Cita and returned quickly. He bought me a banana and a bagel which a week later, as I sit and type he reminds me, I failed to eat. Bret was insistent upon me trying to eat something. I needed fuel.I attempted to eat but was becoming acclimated to the MAG and my intense thirst. I ate some melon right after taking a stool softener and taking a prenatal. I puked within 10 minutes. I should have known better than accepting a prenatal vitamin early in the morning on an empty stomach. Later that day I was willing to try an eat. Bret got my my favorite, Pasta Village (penne, spinach and mushrooms).
Through out the day we announced our new home (hospital) and situation to family and some friends and relied on each others strength throughout the day. I had my moments of strength with Bret's moments of dismay. We alternated. We communicated. Bret shared with me how he drive home and cried all the way. Our common fear, the greatest one was we would either have to make a decision of ending intervention or we would have a severely impaired child. Quality of life is the MOST important thing to us.
Later that evening Maria and Amanda both came to visit. I was in and out of clarity. it made me feel good to have their live and support and took a few minutes of pressure of Bret for my mind was being semi occupied. Maria has been the best. I know she is there for me and I am grateful. I can be myself with her. I let her know when I am scared and uncertain and when I am strong and determined. The night was sleepless and still continues to be so. I have not truly slept through the night in over 9 days. The sleepless nights are a cruel and unusual punishment. Your mind never stops and your blood pressure pulsates through every vein and artery. They offered me a sleeping pill but I was too concerned about how it would effect the baby. Sleeping was also difficult because I couldn't find a comfortable position. Being on my back didn't feel good because it promoted contractions. Being on my side only lasted so long because my hips would hurt. The Tachometer (contraction monitor) was driving me nuts. I wanted to confirm every contraction and stop them. The contractions were very mild and were not even considered contractions by the nurses. They were "irritabilities" or blips. Essentially, a tremor vs an earthquake.
Bret tried to sleep on the awful couch on Monday night and did so until 3am. I sent him home. He needed to get sleep and was certainly not going to do so on that so called bed. I needed him to be present the next day and the best way for him to do so was to get some rest. It relaxed me a bit to know he would get sleep even if I didn't. One of us would have clarity if the other didn't.
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
Day 1
Sunday, August 29th
The day was seemingly a normal one. I was feeling fairly well, as I had for the entire 23 plus weeks pregnancy. I did have a feeling of pressure in my pelvic region that was of some concern but nothing that I felt required immediate medical attention. I had been trying hard to not alarm myself or Bret. I was trying to just listen to my body. That had been my mantra all along especially for the delivery of our little boy. On Saturday I had an insignificant amount (but an amount nonetheless) of pressure in my butt. I kept saying, "It feels like I need to go to the bathroom". Sunday night rolled around and I thought a good night sleep would eliminate the feeling and all would be well. The day before we had completed our registry at Goores and Babies r Us. I figured the pressure (which seemed somewhat minimal) was brought on by a lot of walking. I went to sleep around 9:00pm and woke up at 11 with a somewhat increased sensation. I also had some discharge that did not make me happy. It was very little but enough that I didn't like it. As I listening to my body I felt it was time to go to the hospital. At this point I think Bret might have felt I was being a wee bit silly but he supportively went along with it without and complaints. We got to the hospital and went to the emergency room. They took me over to labor and delivery where I met the triage nurse and Dr. Tyson. My lil' one's activity was confirmed by swooshing sounds and a strong heartbeat of 142 beats per minute. The two weeks prior I had been seeing Dr. Mentakis who diagnosed me with a cervical aperture. He wanted to keep monitoring me via internal ultrasounds but up to this point he was not alarmed. It was closed enough with the small tip of my amniotic bag dipper down. He felt would could catch any changes and provide me with the necessary medical attention in time aka cerclage (the sewing of the cervix). I was permitted to go to work. In retrospect, I did way too much that week. I was unable to set up my classroom until last minute. I had some help but the help certainly didn't replace me burning the candle at both ends. I am very disappointed with my workplace and still think someone should have noticed that stress level was inappropriate for anyone, especially someone who was pregnant. Perhaps I should have spoken up but I truly felt I had. Not enough? I was, I think, already considered quite the "articulator" aka "complainer.
Dr Tyson, the labor and delivery Dr. that evening checked me with the speculum. I learned that using the speculum, although more uncomfortable is less invasive than a digital exam. The concerned look on her face said it all. I was 3 cm dialted with a bag the was dipped down too much. I was rapidly admitted. A nurse with a lovely accent worked on me to get my on complete bedrest, an IV started with steroids which later proved to be extremely important. She started my IV in my forearm which I knew was a bad idea. She insisted and was unsuccessful. I now have a lovely pruple bruise to show for it. The new IV was started in my left hand as I intially requested. Anxious I waited through the night, Bret my my bedside. I could tell he was so nervous. I felt helpless and really wished I could comfort him more.
The night hours passed slowly and with every tick I worried what was going to be the outcome. 6am rolled around and my nurse tracked down my parinatologist. He was making some rounds that were not really part of his duties but once he saw my name he came in. I really liked him and respected his medical knowledge and opinion. He decided to check the status of my cervix to confirm the 3 cm of dialation and an increase in the amniotic sac tension from the last time I had seen him. He gave the nurse medical orders to start my on 3 mg of Magnesium Sulfate. His bedside manner definitely was in efforts to calm me down. However, he didn't blow smoke up my ass. He warned me that the Magnesium Sulfate, now known to Bret and I as "The MAG", had nasty side effects. I would feel like I was on fire, spacey and was on fluid restriction. The thirst was the worst part and only got worse as my fluid restriction increased. The MAG required a certain ratio of fluid intake because too much fluid coupled with strict bedrest could cause Pulmonary Edema. PE is an abnormal build up of fluid in the air sacs of the lungs. Scary stuff but at this point I would just have to deal. I was ordered to not get out of bed and put into a position called Trendelenburg. This position requires that your body is flat with your head down and feet up in a significant angle. This could make anyone crazy and I was no exception.
We were given information that will remain one of the scariest days of our lives. Bret and I were confronted with the fact that delivering a baby prior to 24 weeks meant almost eminent death. I had to hold on until 24 weeks. The 24 week mark would signify viability. Bret and I emotionally discussed our desires. As adverse a situation, it was most comforting to learn that my sweetness, my love, my husband, my partner, my true best friend and I continued to have values and hopes for the future that were the same. When you get married you never know what you are going to get, especially in a situation like this. My thoughts could have changed and our alignment could have been out of wack. I am so grateful for him. This was just the beginning of a week's long ordeal and only the beginning of a love that was about to grow exponentially.
The day was seemingly a normal one. I was feeling fairly well, as I had for the entire 23 plus weeks pregnancy. I did have a feeling of pressure in my pelvic region that was of some concern but nothing that I felt required immediate medical attention. I had been trying hard to not alarm myself or Bret. I was trying to just listen to my body. That had been my mantra all along especially for the delivery of our little boy. On Saturday I had an insignificant amount (but an amount nonetheless) of pressure in my butt. I kept saying, "It feels like I need to go to the bathroom". Sunday night rolled around and I thought a good night sleep would eliminate the feeling and all would be well. The day before we had completed our registry at Goores and Babies r Us. I figured the pressure (which seemed somewhat minimal) was brought on by a lot of walking. I went to sleep around 9:00pm and woke up at 11 with a somewhat increased sensation. I also had some discharge that did not make me happy. It was very little but enough that I didn't like it. As I listening to my body I felt it was time to go to the hospital. At this point I think Bret might have felt I was being a wee bit silly but he supportively went along with it without and complaints. We got to the hospital and went to the emergency room. They took me over to labor and delivery where I met the triage nurse and Dr. Tyson. My lil' one's activity was confirmed by swooshing sounds and a strong heartbeat of 142 beats per minute. The two weeks prior I had been seeing Dr. Mentakis who diagnosed me with a cervical aperture. He wanted to keep monitoring me via internal ultrasounds but up to this point he was not alarmed. It was closed enough with the small tip of my amniotic bag dipper down. He felt would could catch any changes and provide me with the necessary medical attention in time aka cerclage (the sewing of the cervix). I was permitted to go to work. In retrospect, I did way too much that week. I was unable to set up my classroom until last minute. I had some help but the help certainly didn't replace me burning the candle at both ends. I am very disappointed with my workplace and still think someone should have noticed that stress level was inappropriate for anyone, especially someone who was pregnant. Perhaps I should have spoken up but I truly felt I had. Not enough? I was, I think, already considered quite the "articulator" aka "complainer.
Dr Tyson, the labor and delivery Dr. that evening checked me with the speculum. I learned that using the speculum, although more uncomfortable is less invasive than a digital exam. The concerned look on her face said it all. I was 3 cm dialted with a bag the was dipped down too much. I was rapidly admitted. A nurse with a lovely accent worked on me to get my on complete bedrest, an IV started with steroids which later proved to be extremely important. She started my IV in my forearm which I knew was a bad idea. She insisted and was unsuccessful. I now have a lovely pruple bruise to show for it. The new IV was started in my left hand as I intially requested. Anxious I waited through the night, Bret my my bedside. I could tell he was so nervous. I felt helpless and really wished I could comfort him more.
The night hours passed slowly and with every tick I worried what was going to be the outcome. 6am rolled around and my nurse tracked down my parinatologist. He was making some rounds that were not really part of his duties but once he saw my name he came in. I really liked him and respected his medical knowledge and opinion. He decided to check the status of my cervix to confirm the 3 cm of dialation and an increase in the amniotic sac tension from the last time I had seen him. He gave the nurse medical orders to start my on 3 mg of Magnesium Sulfate. His bedside manner definitely was in efforts to calm me down. However, he didn't blow smoke up my ass. He warned me that the Magnesium Sulfate, now known to Bret and I as "The MAG", had nasty side effects. I would feel like I was on fire, spacey and was on fluid restriction. The thirst was the worst part and only got worse as my fluid restriction increased. The MAG required a certain ratio of fluid intake because too much fluid coupled with strict bedrest could cause Pulmonary Edema. PE is an abnormal build up of fluid in the air sacs of the lungs. Scary stuff but at this point I would just have to deal. I was ordered to not get out of bed and put into a position called Trendelenburg. This position requires that your body is flat with your head down and feet up in a significant angle. This could make anyone crazy and I was no exception.
We were given information that will remain one of the scariest days of our lives. Bret and I were confronted with the fact that delivering a baby prior to 24 weeks meant almost eminent death. I had to hold on until 24 weeks. The 24 week mark would signify viability. Bret and I emotionally discussed our desires. As adverse a situation, it was most comforting to learn that my sweetness, my love, my husband, my partner, my true best friend and I continued to have values and hopes for the future that were the same. When you get married you never know what you are going to get, especially in a situation like this. My thoughts could have changed and our alignment could have been out of wack. I am so grateful for him. This was just the beginning of a week's long ordeal and only the beginning of a love that was about to grow exponentially.
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