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.
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