So the next morning upon waking I was keen to get out of bed so I could go to the nicu. Surprisingly my pain levels were quite good, I managed to get up and have a shower. Had my breakfast, and then waited, and waited... - I had to wait for an orderly to come and wheel me to the nicu (it was quite a hike to get there). He finally came and I got to do a quick trip to the nicu - wow, my little man was tiny. How had I forgotten how tiny these babies were - it was only 5 years since I had my daughter, and she wasn't much bigger at birth, but wow - he was tiny (actually he was a decent size for his gestation).
He was doing as well as could be expected at that stage. I remembered from my previous nicu stint though, that there was what they called a "honeymoon period" where babies seemed to do extremely well for a bit, and then all the bumps would start to hit.
We that night was the end of our honeymoon period, and I so wasn't ready for it to hit us that soon. I had a call from the neonatologist in the very early hours of the morning (when you're a nicu mum you panic everytime your phone rings, but when it happens in the middle of the night you know it must be bad). Our little man, who we'd named Jai, was really struggling - he had a collapsed lung and was in desperate need of a blood transfusion. I don't know that I realised just how desperate things were that night - but as I have kept in very close contact with one of the nurses, who I now call my friend - she was actually caring for Jai on that particular night - it wasn't until I caught up with her again many months after our nicu journey ended, that she explained to me just how dire things were on that particular night. She even managed to write in his journal - thinking that it might be the last chance, but not ever letting on to me at the time how bad it was.
So not only did we have all of this going on, we also then had the first of many cranial ultrasounds - of all the things in the nicu - these scared me the most - I could handle lumbar punctures, blood tests and many other things, but ultrasounds really scared me - and I had good reason to be scared - Jai had 2 grade 2 bleeds - I know it could be worse, but this really hit me hard.
I don't know how I did it, but I refused to let any of this get me down - yes, I was absolutely terrified - but I was never going to give up hope. We'd fought tooth and nail to be able to even have a second child, and he was here and fighting - so I was going to help him in that fight.
I pulled myself back from friends, family and the "real world" for a few days while I pulled myself together. I concentrated fully on my son, and being with him as much as I possibly could. After all, love can conquer anything right??
And guess what, he started to improve.
Whilst I was a patient in the hospital though, I found it extremely hard to see him as much as I needed to. I had to be back by my bedside for meals and medications (I was on triple iv antibiotics) - I only took morphine the night of my C-section, panadeine forte the next day and night, then just plain old paracetamol the next day. By day 4 I was begging to be discharged - I was completely off pain meds, and my infection levels had finally gotten low enough that they decided it was ok to put me onto oral antibiotics instead of the iv ones - and they let me go, far earlier than they wanted to - but they knew I wouldn't give in until they let me leave.
I moved into Ronald McDonald house, and that's when things started to get a little easier...
Saturday 14 March 2015
Tuesday 10 March 2015
A miracle is born
So 10th March 2015 was a little different than what we had hoped & planned for.
Through the middle of the night I got up to go to the toilet - when I returned to bed I can remember feeling really cold and shivering. I'd had my fan going as it'd been quite warm in my room prior to that, so I switched it off, added an extra blanket and snuggled back into bed and went to sleep.
My nurse came in early that morning to do my observations - first check, temperature....... - it was high, really high :(
Next thing I know they have called my specialist obstetrician and I am being hooked up to triple iv antibiotics and also getting bloods taken. I don't know that I was really functioning, or what was exactly happening. Obviously they thought I had an infection, but in my mind I think I believed that they could connect me to all these iv's and it would all be sorted. How wrong was I.
My specialist walked in just a few moments before my husband. Her words to him were, have you been filled in on what's happening?? I said, I haven't told him anything other than I might have an infection, as I don't really know what is happening myself. She comforted both of us as she said that our baby would be delivered THAT day!!
24 weeks and 6 days gestation - to say I was scared was an absolute understatement. My iv antibiotics were pushed through and then I was started on the magnesium drip once again whilst we waited for a theatre & surgeon (I had to deliver in the public hospital where the nicu was, but my specialist had not yet had her certification cleared to operate in that theatre). So much was going through my head, I was so not ready for this - I knew the risks, and knew all too well that the chances of our baby being born alive were dwindling quickly and if by chance our baby did survive, what would their future be like. An anaesthetist came in to see me to talk me through the procedure and signed off paperwork - he was lovely, but he said he wouldn't unfortunately be there for the delivery as he was just helping them out on a ridiculously busy day.
I was finally wheeled up to the theatre waiting area, where we basically waited some more. May people tried to lift my spirits, but it just wasn't working. Hubby got suited up in his scrubs as he planned to be there with me all the way - but hey, nothing was going right - my blood pressure was ridiculously low - I have low blood pressure anyhow, but this was much much lower. They tried all sorts of tricks to get it to rise, but it just didn't work - this unfortunately meant that it wasn't safe for me to be awake for the procedure, and I would need to have a general anaesthetic - this also meant that my hubby would not be able to enter the theatre with me.
I was eventually wheeled in, and I was a MESS!! I honestly felt like I was having a nervous breakdown. Low and behold - the anaesthetist who said he wouldn't be there for my C-section, was actually there - he was so lovely, and between him rubbing my forehead and one of the nurses holding my hand, the two of them together managed to calm me down slightly while I waited. I could not be given any anaesthesia until the surgeon was there and ready to cut me open - as they did not want bub getting any of it and being sleeping. I had to have the catheter put in twice (first time didn't work) and get completely prepped which they normally do after you-re asleep, all whilst being wide awake. This is so not a normal situation.
After what felt like forever, I nodded off to sleep - and upon waking up in recovery my first question was, how is my baby. It was a boy, born at 3.26pm weighing a very healthy 800grams, and although they almost lost him, he was doing ok and had been whisked away to nicu. I was taken back to my room at the private hospital as I was on some pretty extensive medications. Hubby spent a lot between the nicu and with myself.
It wasn't until late the next morning that I got to visit my new little man.
Through the middle of the night I got up to go to the toilet - when I returned to bed I can remember feeling really cold and shivering. I'd had my fan going as it'd been quite warm in my room prior to that, so I switched it off, added an extra blanket and snuggled back into bed and went to sleep.
My nurse came in early that morning to do my observations - first check, temperature....... - it was high, really high :(
Next thing I know they have called my specialist obstetrician and I am being hooked up to triple iv antibiotics and also getting bloods taken. I don't know that I was really functioning, or what was exactly happening. Obviously they thought I had an infection, but in my mind I think I believed that they could connect me to all these iv's and it would all be sorted. How wrong was I.
My specialist walked in just a few moments before my husband. Her words to him were, have you been filled in on what's happening?? I said, I haven't told him anything other than I might have an infection, as I don't really know what is happening myself. She comforted both of us as she said that our baby would be delivered THAT day!!
24 weeks and 6 days gestation - to say I was scared was an absolute understatement. My iv antibiotics were pushed through and then I was started on the magnesium drip once again whilst we waited for a theatre & surgeon (I had to deliver in the public hospital where the nicu was, but my specialist had not yet had her certification cleared to operate in that theatre). So much was going through my head, I was so not ready for this - I knew the risks, and knew all too well that the chances of our baby being born alive were dwindling quickly and if by chance our baby did survive, what would their future be like. An anaesthetist came in to see me to talk me through the procedure and signed off paperwork - he was lovely, but he said he wouldn't unfortunately be there for the delivery as he was just helping them out on a ridiculously busy day.
I was finally wheeled up to the theatre waiting area, where we basically waited some more. May people tried to lift my spirits, but it just wasn't working. Hubby got suited up in his scrubs as he planned to be there with me all the way - but hey, nothing was going right - my blood pressure was ridiculously low - I have low blood pressure anyhow, but this was much much lower. They tried all sorts of tricks to get it to rise, but it just didn't work - this unfortunately meant that it wasn't safe for me to be awake for the procedure, and I would need to have a general anaesthetic - this also meant that my hubby would not be able to enter the theatre with me.
I was eventually wheeled in, and I was a MESS!! I honestly felt like I was having a nervous breakdown. Low and behold - the anaesthetist who said he wouldn't be there for my C-section, was actually there - he was so lovely, and between him rubbing my forehead and one of the nurses holding my hand, the two of them together managed to calm me down slightly while I waited. I could not be given any anaesthesia until the surgeon was there and ready to cut me open - as they did not want bub getting any of it and being sleeping. I had to have the catheter put in twice (first time didn't work) and get completely prepped which they normally do after you-re asleep, all whilst being wide awake. This is so not a normal situation.
After what felt like forever, I nodded off to sleep - and upon waking up in recovery my first question was, how is my baby. It was a boy, born at 3.26pm weighing a very healthy 800grams, and although they almost lost him, he was doing ok and had been whisked away to nicu. I was taken back to my room at the private hospital as I was on some pretty extensive medications. Hubby spent a lot between the nicu and with myself.
It wasn't until late the next morning that I got to visit my new little man.
Monday 9 March 2015
New hope
Upon arrival in Hobart, my new team of specialists came and introduced themselves. They were absolutely amazing and would do everything possible in their power to bring my baby safely in to this world, but not a day earlier than was absolutely necessary.
I was started on antibiotics, progesterone (rectally to reduce risk of infection), regular blood tests to check for infection, magnesium to help protect bub if I did go into labour, steroids for bub's lungs, and also medication to stop contractions (even though I wasn't having any at that stage) and round the clock observations. I was told that generally the first sign of infection, is tightening's in the uterus, or just not feeling quite right in myself.
I was hopeful - after all, I had done this before - my daughter was born just 5 years earlier, but I didn't get an infection with her, I just went into labour - but I had a stitch this time - I was putting all my faith into that stitch!!
That night I was taken away for an in depth scan of bub, just to see if there was any fluid left and to double check that all was ok. Bub was estimated to be around 700 grams at this point, which is a fantastic size for gestation. Very little fluid unfortunately, but bub was happy & healthy. They weren't able to confirm gender for me (I had forgotten to ask my ob at my 20 weeks scan to confirm haha) due to the lack of fluid.
My team of specialists made sure that I was aware, that the only thing worse than an extremely premature baby, is an extremely premature sick baby - so any signs at all of infection, or further complications, then I would be rushed off for an emergency C-section.
I had a meeting with the head neonatologist, whom I had gotten to know quite well from when my daughter was born, and had to have a conversation that no one ever wants to have about whether to resuscitate, or fight for bub's life if he/she was to be born soon. At 24 weeks, bub had only a 50% chance of survival, and that was if he/she was born healthy. I had fought so hard for this pregnancy, and at no stage was I ever going to give up on this miracle. My decision was that I placed full trust in the specialist team, and if they thought we were fighting a losing battle, then I would leave the decision up to them - if bub had a chance, then I wanted them to help us fight for it though.
All was going perfectly well. My ultimate goal was to reach 32 weeks, although as a smaller goal we thought we could aim for 25 weeks first - each day was a bonus though.
On the 10th March 2015, we were to be tested once again...
I was started on antibiotics, progesterone (rectally to reduce risk of infection), regular blood tests to check for infection, magnesium to help protect bub if I did go into labour, steroids for bub's lungs, and also medication to stop contractions (even though I wasn't having any at that stage) and round the clock observations. I was told that generally the first sign of infection, is tightening's in the uterus, or just not feeling quite right in myself.
I was hopeful - after all, I had done this before - my daughter was born just 5 years earlier, but I didn't get an infection with her, I just went into labour - but I had a stitch this time - I was putting all my faith into that stitch!!
That night I was taken away for an in depth scan of bub, just to see if there was any fluid left and to double check that all was ok. Bub was estimated to be around 700 grams at this point, which is a fantastic size for gestation. Very little fluid unfortunately, but bub was happy & healthy. They weren't able to confirm gender for me (I had forgotten to ask my ob at my 20 weeks scan to confirm haha) due to the lack of fluid.
My team of specialists made sure that I was aware, that the only thing worse than an extremely premature baby, is an extremely premature sick baby - so any signs at all of infection, or further complications, then I would be rushed off for an emergency C-section.
I had a meeting with the head neonatologist, whom I had gotten to know quite well from when my daughter was born, and had to have a conversation that no one ever wants to have about whether to resuscitate, or fight for bub's life if he/she was to be born soon. At 24 weeks, bub had only a 50% chance of survival, and that was if he/she was born healthy. I had fought so hard for this pregnancy, and at no stage was I ever going to give up on this miracle. My decision was that I placed full trust in the specialist team, and if they thought we were fighting a losing battle, then I would leave the decision up to them - if bub had a chance, then I wanted them to help us fight for it though.
All was going perfectly well. My ultimate goal was to reach 32 weeks, although as a smaller goal we thought we could aim for 25 weeks first - each day was a bonus though.
On the 10th March 2015, we were to be tested once again...
Saturday 7 March 2015
Then it all turned to shit
Friday March 6th 2015 was almost like any other day - I was now 24 weeks and 2 days pregnant, but it was also my daughters 5th birthday.
I was so excited - I had planned an amazing birthday party for her the next day, with all of her friends, and as a surprise, her favourite face painter. The entire party was perfectly planned out and I had nothing else to organise for it.
That day I walked out the door to head to work, pointing at my tummy with a silly comment "today is not your day, so no funny business thankyou". Little did I know at the time, that this particular day my world would be thrown upside down.
I was at work and just returning to my desk after a trip to the toilet - just as I got back to my desk I felt a strange leak - thinking it was just discharge, I sat down at my desk. Curiosity got the better of me though and I thought I'd better head back to the toilet and just double check. As I stood up, I felt more leakage. I sat back down, tried to gather my thoughts, but obviously started stressing - I was determined that I needed to go check things out, so I got up again only to have more leakage. By this point I knew exactly what was going on.
I quickly phoned my mum, as I knew that she was the closest person to come help - "I think my waters have broken" I said to her in a panic on the phone. She said she would be straight there to pick me up - whilst I was on the phone to her, I was shutting down my work computer. I then snuck out the back door without telling a soul what was happening. Whilst walking out, I had a lot more leakage - my membranes had definitely ruptured and I now looked like I had wet my pants. I stood by my own car waiting for my mum as I rang my midwife - not game to sit in my car while I waited, as it was a brand new car and I didn't want to ruin the seat with amniotic fluid - still can't believe that thoughts like that even crossed my mind with what I was going through.
Whilst mum drove me home so we could pack my things I called my hubby - absolutely heartbroken, he dropped everything to come home to me. My gorgeous little girl packed my hospital bag for me, and did a fantastic job, even packing my special teddy bear. I don't think she fully understood what was happening. I phoned my boss and said that I was heading into the hospital with "baby trouble" - didn't know how to tell him that my maternity leave would be starting immediately.
I was surprisingly calm through the whole ordeal. This was exactly what I had gone through 5 years earlier with my daughter, I knew this pregnancy was a lot earlier which had it's own risks, but I had confidence that this time I had a stitch in place and that would keep baby inside.
On arrival to my local hospital, it was confirmed that I had fully ruptured and that I would need to go to a larger hospital with a high level nicu. This particular hospital was about 4 hours away. There were arguments over whether I would be flying or going in an ambulance - the weather was bad, and they didn't want me flying with too much turbulence. They then sent normal ambulance personnel to get me - my midwife refused to let me go into their care and said that I need to have an intensive care paramedic just in case bub did try to make an appearance. I left the hospital in the ambulance, still not knowing if we were going to the airport, or doing the long trip in the ambulance - 10 minutes down the road we got a call to go to the airport.
Surprisingly it was a calm trip. I tried to pretend I was sleeping most of the way. By the time I arrived at Hobart Private Hospital, I had explained what was going on with far too many health professionals - I know it's their job to do it, but seriously when someone is going through that kind of situation, the last thing you need to be doing is repeating the story again and again.
I was all alone. I had asked my husband to stay home and still hold my daughters birthday before coming to Hobart to be with me. I did not want to ruin my daughters birthday - kids just don't understand.
I was so excited - I had planned an amazing birthday party for her the next day, with all of her friends, and as a surprise, her favourite face painter. The entire party was perfectly planned out and I had nothing else to organise for it.
That day I walked out the door to head to work, pointing at my tummy with a silly comment "today is not your day, so no funny business thankyou". Little did I know at the time, that this particular day my world would be thrown upside down.
I was at work and just returning to my desk after a trip to the toilet - just as I got back to my desk I felt a strange leak - thinking it was just discharge, I sat down at my desk. Curiosity got the better of me though and I thought I'd better head back to the toilet and just double check. As I stood up, I felt more leakage. I sat back down, tried to gather my thoughts, but obviously started stressing - I was determined that I needed to go check things out, so I got up again only to have more leakage. By this point I knew exactly what was going on.
I quickly phoned my mum, as I knew that she was the closest person to come help - "I think my waters have broken" I said to her in a panic on the phone. She said she would be straight there to pick me up - whilst I was on the phone to her, I was shutting down my work computer. I then snuck out the back door without telling a soul what was happening. Whilst walking out, I had a lot more leakage - my membranes had definitely ruptured and I now looked like I had wet my pants. I stood by my own car waiting for my mum as I rang my midwife - not game to sit in my car while I waited, as it was a brand new car and I didn't want to ruin the seat with amniotic fluid - still can't believe that thoughts like that even crossed my mind with what I was going through.
Whilst mum drove me home so we could pack my things I called my hubby - absolutely heartbroken, he dropped everything to come home to me. My gorgeous little girl packed my hospital bag for me, and did a fantastic job, even packing my special teddy bear. I don't think she fully understood what was happening. I phoned my boss and said that I was heading into the hospital with "baby trouble" - didn't know how to tell him that my maternity leave would be starting immediately.
I was surprisingly calm through the whole ordeal. This was exactly what I had gone through 5 years earlier with my daughter, I knew this pregnancy was a lot earlier which had it's own risks, but I had confidence that this time I had a stitch in place and that would keep baby inside.
On arrival to my local hospital, it was confirmed that I had fully ruptured and that I would need to go to a larger hospital with a high level nicu. This particular hospital was about 4 hours away. There were arguments over whether I would be flying or going in an ambulance - the weather was bad, and they didn't want me flying with too much turbulence. They then sent normal ambulance personnel to get me - my midwife refused to let me go into their care and said that I need to have an intensive care paramedic just in case bub did try to make an appearance. I left the hospital in the ambulance, still not knowing if we were going to the airport, or doing the long trip in the ambulance - 10 minutes down the road we got a call to go to the airport.
Surprisingly it was a calm trip. I tried to pretend I was sleeping most of the way. By the time I arrived at Hobart Private Hospital, I had explained what was going on with far too many health professionals - I know it's their job to do it, but seriously when someone is going through that kind of situation, the last thing you need to be doing is repeating the story again and again.
I was all alone. I had asked my husband to stay home and still hold my daughters birthday before coming to Hobart to be with me. I did not want to ruin my daughters birthday - kids just don't understand.
Thursday 5 March 2015
The joys of pregnancy
I had my first appointment with my obstetrician on 19th November - he was amazed, not only that I had managed to fall pregnant after what I had been through, but that I had this perfect little person growing inside me.
I was suffering morning sickness - or actually, all day nausea more to the point. I had not suffered at all when I was pregnant with my daughter, so this was something different!! As long as I had food on hand at all times, and ate something small like a dry biscuit every hour, I was fine - but if I got busy and couldn't eat something (like when I was in meetings at work), then I felt awful!!
I did ask a few questions about how my pregnancy would be managed, and I was told that I would have fortnightly checks until 3rd trimester, and that he was confident that the stitch I had in place would hold everything together.
I had my scheduled scans at 11 weeks and 13 weeks, then my next scan was at 16 weeks. At this scan I had done some more research and thought that there were other things we should be doing to maximise my chances of taking this pregnancy to term, or atleast close to. All of my concerns were brushed off and I was told that everything was unnecessary - progesterone (told it wouldn't help due to not having any cervix), clexane (not required as I was still moving around), antibiotics (only required if infection is proven), bed rest (just silly - the stitch would hold), infection swabs/checks (not required, swabs would only increase the risk of infection).
My next scan was then scheduled for 19 weeks (my morphology scan) - so already the scans had been stretched from fortnightly to every three weeks! All went perfectly at this scan, and the sonographer told us she thought bub was a little boy - although said to confirm with our obstetrician at our next appointment which was the following week.
At this next appointment, I was curious to get a detailed report from the morphology scan - particularly on how my "cervix" was holding up. I was told that the stitch was still holding perfectly fine and that everything was perfect with bub - measuring quite a decent size! I was told that I didn't need to be seen now until 25 weeks - so now my appointments were being stretched even further apart.
My stress levels were getting quite high. I just wanted to make it to viability. I was so nervous that I would lose this baby, that no one was taking my concerns seriously - but I didn't really have any other options - I had to place my trust in my obstetrician - he had been practicing for many many years, and my gyne/onc was confident that he was the best person to look after me.
On Wednesday 4th March 2015, I was sooooo excited to hit 24 weeks that I took my first belly photos!!!
Little did I know at the time, these would be my ONLY belly photos.
I was suffering morning sickness - or actually, all day nausea more to the point. I had not suffered at all when I was pregnant with my daughter, so this was something different!! As long as I had food on hand at all times, and ate something small like a dry biscuit every hour, I was fine - but if I got busy and couldn't eat something (like when I was in meetings at work), then I felt awful!!
I did ask a few questions about how my pregnancy would be managed, and I was told that I would have fortnightly checks until 3rd trimester, and that he was confident that the stitch I had in place would hold everything together.
I had my scheduled scans at 11 weeks and 13 weeks, then my next scan was at 16 weeks. At this scan I had done some more research and thought that there were other things we should be doing to maximise my chances of taking this pregnancy to term, or atleast close to. All of my concerns were brushed off and I was told that everything was unnecessary - progesterone (told it wouldn't help due to not having any cervix), clexane (not required as I was still moving around), antibiotics (only required if infection is proven), bed rest (just silly - the stitch would hold), infection swabs/checks (not required, swabs would only increase the risk of infection).
My next scan was then scheduled for 19 weeks (my morphology scan) - so already the scans had been stretched from fortnightly to every three weeks! All went perfectly at this scan, and the sonographer told us she thought bub was a little boy - although said to confirm with our obstetrician at our next appointment which was the following week.
At this next appointment, I was curious to get a detailed report from the morphology scan - particularly on how my "cervix" was holding up. I was told that the stitch was still holding perfectly fine and that everything was perfect with bub - measuring quite a decent size! I was told that I didn't need to be seen now until 25 weeks - so now my appointments were being stretched even further apart.
My stress levels were getting quite high. I just wanted to make it to viability. I was so nervous that I would lose this baby, that no one was taking my concerns seriously - but I didn't really have any other options - I had to place my trust in my obstetrician - he had been practicing for many many years, and my gyne/onc was confident that he was the best person to look after me.
On Wednesday 4th March 2015, I was sooooo excited to hit 24 weeks that I took my first belly photos!!!
Little did I know at the time, these would be my ONLY belly photos.
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