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My nightmare, my miracle, and the importance of knowing your body
First off, I apologize in advance for typos- I have an oxygen monitor on my hand that makes typing weird for me.
Most of you who have been around have seen my multitude of threads on how things weren't going well at various points in my pregnancy. i went to triage multiple times, and each time got kind of blown off and sent home. Then, I'd go to see my doctor and she'd find an infection they missed (also, you may remember I changed doctors within the practice because mine wasn't listening). Fast forward to Sunday. I had an awesome baby shower! It went GREAT! Then, went to the restaurant. I started to feel what I recognized as braxton hicks during dinner, but everything was okay. We went home from the restaurant, and I was writing out thank you notes while Drew (my best friend) put together my stroller system. My pain started to get VERY intense. In my back. I mean, really bad, to where I was having trouble talking or breathing through them. Drew started timing them, just to make sure everything was okay, and when they were clearly in a pattern, I called the nurse on call (around midnight Sunday into Monday). My mom took me to the maternity triage, at the suggestion of the nurse on call. Let me just say, the triage nurse had an attitude the second I got there. I'd seen her before once- she was rude then, too, but I gave her the benefit of the doubt that first time. This time, she took one look at me and said "Women don't feel contractions in the BACK. I'm sure they'll send you home," but proceeded to do the samples and labs recommended. Well, my blood pressure kept going up and up. The nurse on call told her to have me stay there and keep looking for cervical change. Finally she started seeing my contractions on the monitor, but I was at 3 and not changing. She said "I'm sending you home. Let me call the Nurse on call and get the paperwork." Then, she came back to the room 10 minutes later. She said "Well, she's making you stay. But don't get comfortable, you'll probably only be here until 6am, when a doctor can check you out." I stayed overnight, and saw a doctor around 9. When he came in the room, he said, you'll probably leave after I check you- I heard about last night. He checked me, got a weird look on his face, and said, "I'll be back." The other nurse came in and said "Well, he'll probably release you when your mom gets here to drive you." Mom got there, the doctor came in, and said "You'll be here for the long haul. Get comfortable." Monday was spent going through tests, doctors, more tests, and more labs. At one point I was having blood drawn from an artery on one arm and a vein on the other, and at another point I was getting an echocardiogram and a uterus ultrasound at once. Final diagnosis? Congenital heart failure related to pregnancy. My lungs were filling with fluid, my heart was shutting down, and the doctors literally told me pregnancy was killing me... for real. They put me on a myriad of meds, and worked on getting my levels well enough to deliver. Monday night they started me on my first low dose of pitocin. Tuesday morning, they upped the pitocin, gave me an epidural right away, and let me sleep through the full labor (I hadn't slept in 3 days). I got close around 3:05 in the afternoon, so they called the doctor over. After lots of pushing through 10 contractions, I held Zachary Andrew for the first time. 7 pounds, 3.1 ounces, 19 inches long. He was born at exactly 4pm. (I'm going to be honest, after all of the tests and struggles, I barely even felt labor and delivery). So, the point is, I've been telling everyone for 5 months now that something was wrong with my body. No one listened, but I kept fighting. Had that nurse sent me home, the doctor says there's little chance I would have survived. But the REAL point is... check out this handsome little devil
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