Hospital Births

February 14 2017

Indy’s Birth Story

Awake My Soul

Posted on November 14, 2016

I remember driving home on that perfect evening in May, we had just finished our maternity photo shoot. I was 36 weeks pregnant and had never felt so vibrant, beautiful, and peacefully happy. I think bliss is the best word to describe what I felt. B and I were talking about the sweet baby girl in my belly- how things had finally come full circle and how excited we were to meet her. I had a strong feeling she was going to come early, so we talked about all the things we needed to quickly finish before her arrival. We had been waiting for this experience for 5 years.

I remember thinking several times that week about how perfect life seemed, and recognizing that I hadn’t felt sorrow or heartbreak for quite some time. “We are finally here. This is what I have been waiting for- and it really is just as good as I dreamed it would be”, I thought. Then quickly my mind turned, and I had this feeling of, “Things are too good. We are too comfortable. Life is too easy right now- Something is coming.” I don’t know why my mind went there, maybe I had just gotten used to the heartbreak we experienced so often on this journey. I shared my thoughts with B on our drive home that night. “Things just seem too good to be true B. Don’t ya think?” He agreed, but calmed my “something is coming” thought with recounting how far we had come and how much we had been through so far. Maybe we still couldn’t quite believe we were finally having a baby.

My mother intuition was right- Indy was coming early. My water broke at 5am just 5 days after we had our maternity pictures taken. I was 36 weeks and 5 days. For years I had planned and prepared for a natural childbirth. With that preparation I learned that having your water break before you are in active labor is not favorable at all. So naturally, I broke down crying when I realized this was more than me wetting the bed. This was indeed that start of the experience that changed our lives forever.

Labor progressed slowly. Nothing was going as I had hoped, and I was stressed. My natural childbirth plan wasn’t looking very hopeful because my water broke first, and Indy was early. B left for a bit to do some things at home per my request. Thirty minutes later the biggest, most beautiful bouquet of flowers were delivered to my room on labor & delivery. There was a card that read-

Hi mommy,

I’m so excited to see you soon and can’t wait for you to hold me. I talked God into letting me send you these pretty flowers. The next couple hours is going to be a bit tough, but hang in there, you can do it! Thank you for your sacrifice. I love you!

Truly yours, Indy.

It was just what I needed to get me through the hours that followed. It was the best reminder that B Jones is the fullness of my heart, my rock, and absolutely the perfect man for me. Because things really were going to be real tough for the next little bit.

At hour 35 of labor, feeling like my body was giving up, I got an epidural. And I finally slept. When I woke up it was time to push. It was happening. We were about to meet our baby girl. I was elated. We listened to music- mostly Mumford and Sons, however there was that one Dr. Dre song that got me really amped ? I danced a little as my epidural had worn off, sang a little, and laughed a lot. It was a party in our delivery room. I pushed for 4 hours, but time passed quickly because we were so excited.

Then, she arrived. Our Indy Llew was here. Birthing a child was the most incredible experience of my life, without a doubt. I looked at her laying on the delivery bed. I cried happy tears. I looked at B, He looked at me. Then we both looked back to her. I was getting situated so I could hold her skin to skin. I picked her up. I looked at every part of her. “Her ears look different” I thought to myself. Then out-loud, during this out of body experience I was having, I said, “She doesn’t look like me”. I scanned the room to see if anyone heard me and agreed, but no one was paying attention. I easily talked myself out of any concern, she did just spend hours in the birth canal after all. I held her for 5 minutes then Bri cut the umbilical cord. I tried to have her latch on to nurse- I can’t even remember if she did latch or not.

The room was hectic and the pediatric team was in the corner waiting to assess her because she was “pre-term”. I told B not to leave her side. They took her to the baby warmer and started their assessment. Then, suddenly, the power went out. The power in the entire hospital went out. Everything was dark, everyone was franticly moving about trying to get things hooked up to the backup outlets. I don’t remember what I even felt at that moment. It was so atypical for something like this to happen. “This has never happened in all the years I have worked here”, everyone kept saying. But this event proved meaningful for B, as I will explain later. The back-up lights came on but things were still very dim. I tried not to be too alarmed when after a few minutes the pediatric team came to tell me Indy’s oxygen saturation was dropping. They needed to place her on oxygen and take her to the nursery for testing. I was still in a state of euphoria for what my body had just accomplished, so being calm in this situation came naturally. I told B to stay with her and be her advocate, and off they went. I think it was about 40 minutes later- I was freshened up and snacking on some crackers, wondering how things were going in the nursery with my baby girl. I longed to hold her and have B next to me. My mom and doula were at my bedside.

This is where it gets difficult to write. Revisiting this moment, this experience, those initial thoughts and feelings, is very painful. My hands shake, my eyes fill with tears, and a lump finds a place in my throat every time I recount what happened next. This is the reason I need to write it though. I need to let it out and put into words the pain that lingers in my heart from this night. I need to bury the darkest emotions I have ever experienced and give myself closure, because this night still haunts me.

The pediatric doctor walked through the door with Brian following her. No Indy. “Where is my baby?” I thought. The doctor, whom I have never met, did not look at me as she asked everyone to leave the room. I looked at Brian. I will never forget the look on his face, he seemed surprised and concerned. My eyes quickly met my mothers, panic and terror was all I could see in them. “My baby died. She is going to tell me my baby died.” I thought. Everyone left the room. B came and stood next to me and grabbed my hand tightly. B never acts scared or worried, but I could feel his concern for our baby girl. The doctor sat at the end of the bed. I do not remember how she started the conversation, I do not remember if I asked if my baby was ok, all I remember is her fact-of-the-matter tone that lacked compassion as she said, “We think that Indy has Down Syndrome.” Shock. Horror. Disbelief. “WHAT??” I yelled it through the sobs that started faster than I could process the words she had just spoken. “No…. No” as my head fell into my hands. I think I was too scared to look at B. I just remember him squeezing my hand tight. “Are you sure?” I cried. “Well we will do some genetic testing to be sure, but she is showing signs, we are pretty sure”. I asked what signs, hoping I would know better than her and could convince myself this doctor was wrong in her findings. “The crease in her hand, the gap between her first and second toe, and her ears and eyes look suspecting.” Her ears. Something told me they were different. I asked if she was ok, Is my baby going to be ok. “We are concerned about her heart and lungs, we are going to do an echocardiogram immediately if that is ok with you. We will transfer her to the NICU.” More shock and disbelief. Anger, heartbreak, anguish. The doctor left and my mom came back into the room, looking frantic. Me, through stunned tears, “They think she has down syndrome.” Then sobs. From me and my mom. “I don’t care, I don’t care honey.” She hugged me. I suddenly felt numb from all emotion. No more tears, no words. I sat there unable to speak. My mom tried to make me feel better by saying that maybe they were mistaken, maybe the test would prove them wrong. Bri was now sitting next to me on the bed. In a very solemn voice, with a very serious tone, he shrugged his shoulders and shook his head while saying, “She has down syndrome. That’s it. She has it.” Silence. “I think Terah and I need to be alone now.” It was after midnight, and the power was still out in the hospital. My mom cried as she left us there. We laid on that bed, neither of us spoke for several minutes. I felt so many things, but nothing was stronger than the numbness that had taken over. I didn’t just have a baby. This is not my baby. The baby I had inside of me for the past nine months was my Indy baby, not a “down syndrome baby”. The sobs started again. I wanted to go back. I wanted to put her back inside of me and do this all over. Please take me back to yesterday. Please let this be a nightmare, please let me wake up. My soul was begging and pleading to not let this be real. Please…… no. “Our life is over B. Our life is over. What are we going to do” I finally looked at him. He was staring off into nothing and quietly said- “I never imagined that what I thought would be the best day of my life, would turn in to the worst.” I felt like I had failed him.

The midwife came in the room. She could barely look at me. “Indy’s blood sugar is at a 25. They need your permission to give her glucose.” I immediately feared the worse, as an ER nurse I know what a blood sugar level that low can do to someone if prolonged. I asked if she was going to have brain damage now, on top of Down syndrome. I was distraught when all she said was, “I don’t know. Sometimes babies who are in the birth canal for a long time come out with low blood sugar, but I can’t say for sure. I am so sorry” as she looked at us with pity in her eyes. At this point I had convinced myself of the worst possible outcome in every aspect. My heart was throbbing so bad I wanted to rip it out of my chest. I wanted to run away and never come back to this moment and to these feelings. I wanted to die. I said it several times as I sobbed. “I just want to die. I am so devastated, I’m so hurt, I am so angry, I’m so scared. Why would God do this to us. Why…why.”

They transferred us to the post-partum unit. It was 1 am. I wondered what was happening to my baby all the while feeling like she wasn’t my baby. I felt like I didn’t know her. This life that had grown inside of me for the last nine months was not the life I thought I was holding. There was such a disconnect present- it is hard to explain. B and I got settled on the bed. He held me in his arms and we cried, and we waited. The NICU doctor came in 3 times, bringing with her bad news each time. A hole in her heart, and pulmonary hypertension. Then possible pneumonia, but they couldn’t verify through blood- they had already poked her 3 times for blood work with no success. They started antibiotics to be safe, which was very upsetting to me. I started sobbing again. Feeding tube, oxygen, IV’s. Finally, at the third visit from the NICU doctor, I said in a very upset tone “When am I going to be able to see my baby??” She acted like she had been waiting for me to ask. I wish I would have asked (or demanded) to see her at the very beginning. Because to this day, the thing that haunts me the most is that my baby was alone in the NICU, being poked and prodded incessantly, without her mama and probably scared to death, for 5 hours. My heart throbs with the deepest anguish every time I think of it. If things had gone “as planned”- she would have never left my side in that hospital. But I have learned that making concrete plans in life is oft times a worthless endeavor. There is always a bigger plan that will ultimately prevail.

At 4 am we were taken to the NICU to see our baby girl, after the longest and hardest 5 hours of my life. I was terrified to meet her. I had met her once, but now I was going to meet a new her. The real her, the one I didn’t think I knew. We walked through the doors to the NICU room. I don’t even recall if there were other babies in that big room. My eyes found her first, and she was all that I could see. I stared at her face as I walked up to her bed. Tears were streaming from my eyes and I was trembling. She had tubes, wires, and monitors everywhere, and I realized in that moment that I had dreamed of this a couple months prior. I had dreamed of a baby with all these monitors and tubes. However I never once thought that the scene would come to life for me and be my baby lying there; hooked up to monitors with IV’s in her head, oxygen in her nose, and a feeding tube in her mouth. Yet there she was, and here was I. Awake my soul.

Her hair was done and she had a little yellow bow glued to her head. She was sleeping peacefully, and she was absolutely beautiful. I still felt disconnected though, I still wondered if she was really mine. B and I just sat around the edge of her bed warmer and stared through tear soaked eyes. I will never forget her nurse, the one that had done her hair so cute. She stared me straight in the eyes as I cried and said with such confidence, “She’s awesome you guys. (pause) She is. She’s awesome”. Like she was trying to convince us of something we didn’t know yet. I finally got the courage to ask if I could hold her.

The nurse helped arrange her wires, and picked her up. She placed Indy Llew in my arms as my heart pounded in my chest. I was so scared of what I was going to feel, or not feel. I held her timidly… but in that moment I knew, nothing doubting, that she was mine. She was mine and I FELT. I felt her incredible spirit, I felt her love for me, her longing for me, her comfort with me. I felt the most amazing and scary love- a love I couldn’t deny. This beautiful, tiny, precious soul was indeed my Indy baby. The one I carried for 9 months, the one I knew, the one I adored more and more with every kick and hiccup in my belly. This was her, and she needed me to love her just like I did before that doctor delivered the news. Awake my soul.

We stayed by her side for 4 hours. I held her skin to skin, inspected every inch of her perfect little body, adored her, and cried. The tears didn’t stop for me for several weeks. But B, he only needed a few hours. They say one parent always grieves harder… that parent was me. I could have never gotten through this without B. He was the rock and the foundation to our new life, the propeller that pushed us onward, for months.

We left Indy at shift change so we could get a couple hours of sleep. At this point I had hardly eaten or slept for over 48 hours. B helped me to sleep as I cried. When I woke up, he was sitting on the couch next to me and appeared very calm. He came to my side and said, “I sent a message to all our family and friends and explained everything, so you don’t have to.” The tears came again. I was so scared of telling people. I didn’t want anyone to know. I didn’t want everyone talking, a chain of phone calls and texts- “Did you hear about Brian and Terah’s baby? So sad. So awful.” I didn’t want people feeling bad for us or pitying us. I wanted people to be happy for us. We waited 5 years for our baby girl. I wanted this to be a celebration, even though I wasn’t celebrating yet. We quickly had over 200 text messages on our phones. All messages of love, support, and congratulations- “She is beautiful.” “What can we do to help while you are in the NICU”. The love was overwhelming. By the end of our hospital stay we had over a dozen bouquets of flowers delivered to our room. Gifts left on our porch. Acts of service being done at our house. More support than I ever could have dreamed. The people in our life are just so good- and we will forever be grateful for those that carried our burden beside us.

The hurt didn’t go away, it waxed and waned for weeks. Sometimes it was completely absent and sometimes it was overwhelming. Our NICU days were long and very difficult. So many unknowns and what if’s, so many doubts and fear. But they were all met with the many triumphs we experienced, the moments of overwhelming love and acceptance, the pure faith we enlisted in God- who’s presence was felt stronger than at any other time in my life so far. The morning after Indy was born my mother-in-law came to the hospital and said to me with tears in her eyes, “I was praying this morning and got the most overwhelming feeling that she is meant to be in our family. She is meant for us, and I was given such a feeling of peace.” Her words comforted me so deeply because it confirmed what I knew- she was meant for me. Awake my soul.

There is so much more to this story. So much more to our new beginning. I will share it eventually. For now I will end by sharing a small glimpse of this story through B’s eyes. Two days after Indy was born B said to me, “Remember how the power went out right after Indy was born?” Me, having actually forgotten that until then, “Oh, yeah. That was crazy huh?” B- “I knew when that happened something big was coming. It was like God was telling me “Ok B Jones, this is your reset. This is where your new life begins.” I knew things were going to be different but they were going to be ok. We are right where God wants us to be. Life is going to be good Turtle B.”

I clung to every word. Life is going to be good, I know it is.

“In these bodies we will live, in these bodies we will die. And where you invest your love, you invest your life. Awake my soul!” –Mumford & Sons

Awake My Soul

February 12 2017

Everleigh’s Birth Story

Hospital Births 0

HELLP SYNDROME SURVIVOR

I made it to 36 weeks + 4 with my daughter, I knew at 35 weeks something was not right with me. I had extreme stomach pain, loss of appetite, headaches and swelling that practically left me numb. Unfortunately the hospital I had near me didn’t realize and seemed to not care what was happening to me, I had gone 3 times within a week and they kept sending me home stating, ‘Your contractions aren’t accurate and you aren’t dilating past 3cm.

After the 3rd time enough was enough I decided to go home the next day to see my parents. I knew my Mom would provide me with comfort and help me through this awful pain as she had delivered 2 children previously. After a night of no sleep, extreme chills and constant pain my mom said something isn’t right and immediately took me to the hospital. This hospital immediately knew something was wrong and started setting me up, blood work after blood work after doctor they were starting to see everything turn for the worst, my blood pressure sky rocketed to 220/120, my blood platelets were dropping and had reached below 50,000 and my liver enzymes were starting to go which mean my liver was going into failure. At this point drugs were not an option. The doctors began giving my mother the options of drugs for my emergency c section as they stated if they allowed me to go any longer I would start to have seizures.

The options were for a small epidural that would most likely cause me to be paralyzed from the waist down or to be completely put under which could cause all my IV fluids and Magnesium (which helped in stopping seizures) to come back up into my lungs and cause distress and unfortunately high risk of death of baby and mom. But suddenly I started pushing on my own, before even having the chance to wheel me away for c section or decide on a drug plan my baby girl was delivered, she was quite a surprise and the doctors were shocked at how fast she came with no problems.

She was welcomed by 7 doctors and weighed 7 lbs 10 oz. What we thought would of been a 1-2 night stay ended up being 7 days. My blood pressure wasn’t dropping, and my blood work wasn’t getting any better. It was so emotionally hard to stay there as I just wanted to take her home, having my blood pressure taken every 2 hours was giving me extreme anxiety and half the time the nurses were running back and fourth calling for a doctor immediately due to the numbers coming in my blood pressure. My bloodwork was taken every 6 hours for an entire week, by day 3 the sound of the nurse coming with the bloodwork cart made me cry as almost all my veins were blown and it would take 45 minutes of constant ‘I promise this vein will work’ when it didn’t.

It took 2 months for my BP to finally go back to normal, but to this day I still stress and get emotional over everything that’s happened. We call my daughter our little miracle baby as she was delivered in under 4 hours, less than 20 minutes of pushing, it’s like she knew it was time – mom is sick and she needs to heal her.

Since day 1, I have constantly been asking myself, ‘Why me?’ I’ve always wanted a big family, I love babies, do I
not deserve it? Who did I hurt to have this happen to me? How come all these women are able to have normal pregnancies and deliver with no complications but yet I’m not able to? Is there anyone out there who has suffered like me? But now I know we are special and it makes me love her so much more.” ?

These are questions that many survivors have during the healing process. It’s powerful. They are, after all, part of the story. ?

February 9 2017

Case’s Birth Story

Hospital Births 0

The Beginning

January 16, 2017

The most precious 24 hours of my life yet.

November 12.

I got up and rode with Col down to Trenton to haul some corn. I had been doing this in the morning with him for the last two weeks or so whenever he went to take a load. Justin, My father-in-law, came up to the dump truck window and said “No baby today?” (Like he had been saying to me every time he saw me for the last little bit) I of course told him no and he joked that I’d have a baby the next day. He had picked the 13th of November well over a month before then and I was convinced I was going over my due date-like every girl does when she’s getting close. The day never seems like it will come. Surely all you moms out there can relate!

On our way home from Trenton I was really nauseas and uncomfortable. I remember sitting forward and halfway off my seat because I just couldn’t get comfortable. The nausea thing was normal for me so that didn’t concern me, but I could tell this baby was starting to shift downwards. I got home and just couldn’t shake off the feeling of being sick so I laid down on the couch and took a three hour nap-this would come in handy later! I remember waking up to Mack (our dog) standing right in front of my face staring at me, maybe I was snoring I don’t know haha!

Anyways around 4 that afternoon I started having some contractions. I had a few that morning, but these were getting stronger and more consistent. So I downloaded an app to track them and sure enough they were anywhere from 4-8 minutes apart and lasting 30-45 seconds.

I texted Collin and told him what was going on. He was doing some field work and said he would be home around 7, but to tell him if I thought we needed to go in.

I kept tracking my contractions until my app kept telling me that I should gather my stuff and go in to the hospital. It freaked me out so I texted Collin and said I thought we should go. Then I thought it through and realized I was listening to a phone app! Haha! so I texted him again and said we should wait longer.

We had a work dinner to go to that night that wasn’t until 8pm, so I thought I needed to tough it out until for sure after that. Plus I had heard of so many first time moms being sent back home after getting to the hospital because they weren’t progressed enough. So I wanted to be extra sure!

I got in a hot shower to try to help with the pain and didn’t have a contraction for 16 minutes so I had decided I wasn’t really in labor.

I started getting ready for the dinner, then Collin got home. Sure enough my contractions picked back up stronger than before and as close as every two and a half minutes. Collin was freaking out a little and just kept saying “Are you sure?” “I feel wierd inside, is this really happening?!” We kept laughing and couldn’t believe that we were maybe-actually going to have this baby! The baby’s bag was already packed and ready, but we hadn’t packed anything for us yet. We decided that if I was still contracting after the work dinner we would come home pack our bags and head down to the hospital.

We went to the dinner and I kept tracking the contractions. They stayed consistently close and strong so after the dinner around about 9:30pm we came home and packed our bags and headed down to Logan.

The whole drive down we were laughing so hard. I can’t remember even what about, but I remember cry/laughing in the car and being mad at Collin because the laughing made the contractions hurt 20 x worse and he kept making jokes and making me laugh.

We got to the hospital around about 10:30pm. They checked us into Labor and Delivery. The nurse checked me and I was only dilated to a 2 and 90% ephased. I cried a little inside because I was positive they would be sending me home since I was already dilated to a 1.5 and 70% ephased on Wednesday at my appointment with my doctor.

They told me my doctor was on call this weekend. I was so happy about this because he was leaving town that week and was going to be gone over my due date. I was positive that he wasn’t going to be able to deliver me. This made me progressing even more crucial because I really wanted him to deliver me!

The nurse gave me a gown and said I could walk the halls for an hour and see if I progressed anymore. So we walked. There was a Christmas tree put up in the hall and I remember thinking how excited I was to have a new baby for Christmas.

Collin kept track of the contractions on his phone. I had 18 strong contractions in the 55 minutes before we went back to the room to be checked. I was hopeful that I had progressed. They checked me and I was a 3! She said since it was my doctor on call she was 100% sure I’d be staying. She went to call my doctor and I kept telling Collin that I hoped they would keep me. It was now midnight and it would really suck to have to drive home and come back at 4am.

The nurse came back and said I was staying! I was beyond relieved and reality was setting in. We were really having a baby!!

November 13.
For about an hour and a half I contracted in some serious pain. Collin fell asleep on the couch and I knew we had a long next 24 hours ahead of us so I let him sleep. The nurse came back in and said she had been watching my screen and could see I was having some pretty serious contractions. She told me I could have my epidural anytime. She said there was some pain medication I could have if I wasn’t ready for the epidural though, which I wasn’t yet. I thought I could tough it out a little longer. I took her up on the pain medication. I also asked her for something for heartburn because it was so bad I thought I was going to throw up.

The pain med took away the edge of the contractions pretty instantly. She checked me again and I was a 4. I found that hard to believe with all the pain I had been in. Another half hour passed and I was in some serious pain again. I debated pushing the call button for some more meds, and finally gave in. She gave me more of the same stuff and it helped a little but not near as much as before.

It was now 3:20am ish and I was shaking so bad. I wasn’t cold. If anything I was hot, and I felt like I was going to puke, but I guess that’s pretty normal with all the adrenaline that was going through my body! Collin was awake now and telling me he thought I should get the epidural. I agreed. I called the nurse and told her she could call for the epidural.

The anesthesiologist arrived around 3:50am and I had my epidural by 4am. The relief was insane! I should have got it earlier. For some reason I had in my head that I wanted to be dilated to a five before I got the epidural. That was seriously dumb of me. I had been contracting consistently for 12 long hours and if I could go back I’d have asked for it way sooner! For all you not-yet-moms worrying about the epidural pain, it was seriously nothing compared to the contractions I was having!

She checked me again and I was still only a 4 and 100% ephased so she started some Pitocin in my IV and said the doctor would be there around 7 to break my water. I finally slept for about an hour and a half until a new nurse came in and said my doctor would be there anytime.

He came around 7:15am, broke my water, and checked me. I was a 6. I was so relieved to see him. I told him this baby really wanted him to deliver him that’s why he was coming 2 weeks early before he left on vacation.

The nurse kept coming in and adjusting this big egg shaped exercise ball in between my legs and rotating me from side to side to help open up my pelvis.

I remember the sun shining into our room as it got light outside. I remember thinking how our lives were about to change forever. I took a picture of it because I wanted to remember these last few moments of just Collin and I forever.

We talked about what he would look like, laughed, and felt nervous for what was to come. I remember we talked about what his spirit was doing. Whether he was in heaven so excited saying “I’m ready to go!” And anxiously awaiting his birth, or whether his spirit had been in his body the whole time. We decided that the spirit had been with his body since he was conceived and with me all that time. Something that was so crazy to think about!

Collin kept bringing me ice, and holding my hand. He’d go lay down on the couch every once in awhile, just until I made him get up to come kiss me. I think I may have been a little bit needy during these couple hours, but he was such great support and never once complained.

Around 11am my nurse came in and checked me again. I was a 10!! We waited for an hour while my contractions pushed him down the birth canal (what they call rest and descend). I pushed my epidural button once more around 12pm because the contractions were getting to be painful again and around 12:10pm I started pushing.

I don’t remember many little details about the pushing part. I know that my eyes were closed the whole time, and my pain was so bad I was hysterically crying. (More on why it was so painful later) I pushed for an hour before she called my doctor. He came and was great at calming me down and talking me through the pain. I remember the last push he told me to open my eyes and give him a half push.

I did. It was then, at 1:34pm, that our lives changed forever when our sweet Case Collin was born.

A Trip to Holland

By Emily Perl Kingsley

I am often asked to describe the experience of raising a child with a disability — to try to help people who have not shared that unique experience to understand it, to imagine how it would feel. It’s like this…

When you’re going to have a baby, it’s like planning a fabulous vacation trip to Italy. You buy a bunch of guide books and make your wonderful plans… the Coliseum, the Sistine Chapel, Gondolas. You may learn some handy phrases in Italian. It’s all very exciting. After several months of eager anticipation, the day finally arrives.

You pack your bags and off you go. Several hours later, the plane lands. The stewardess comes in and says, “Welcome To Holland!”

“Holland?” you say. “What do you mean, Holland? I signed up for Italy. I’m supposed to be in Italy. All my life I’ve dreamed of going to Italy.” But there’s been a change in the flight plan. They’ve landed in Holland and there you must stay. The important thing is that they haven’t taken you to a horrible, disgusting, filthy place full of pestilence, famine, and disease. It’s just a different place.

So, you must go out and buy new guidebooks. And you must learn a whole new language. And you will meet a whole new group of people you would never have met. It’s just a different place. It’s slower paced than Italy, less flashy than Italy. But after you’ve been there for a while and you catch your breath, you look around. You begin to notice that Holland has windmills. Holland has tulips. And Holland even has Rembrandts. But everyone you know is busy coming and going from Italy, and they’re all bragging about what a wonderful time they had there. And for the rest of your life you will say, ” Yes, that’s where I was supposed to go. That’s what I had planned.”

And the pain of that experience will never, ever, ever, go away. The loss of that dream is a very significant loss. But if you spend your life mourning the fact that you didn’t get to Italy, you may never be free to enjoy the very special, the very lovely things about Holland.

—————————–

I had no idea that morning when the sun was gleaming into my delivery room so perfectly, that I was about to land in Holland.

They put Case on my chest and let me hold him skin to skin. I remember looking at his poor head. It was huge from his rough birth. (He came out OP. Meaning that he was sideways. Normally their shoulders are flat and they are face down, but he came out with his shoulders up and down and he was looking sideways right at Col. My doctor said this can be like adding a pound to your baby. Youchy!)

After looking over his head I noticed his face. It seemed so swollen, and I knew this was normal, but something just didn’t seem right. I just remember thinking “He doesn’t look like what I thought he would look like.”

I kept holding onto his little fingers and my tears of pain from labor had turned to tears of joy.

My baby was here.

I kept thinking over and over how different he looked than I had anticipated. After about a minute of holding him, worrying about his head, and reassuring myself he was just really swollen, it clicked. He has Down Syndrome. I didn’t say it out loud but I kept thinking it. Then I’d think no he’s just swollen. But my mind kept coming back to those words. Down Syndrome.

I was starting to worry, but there were so many people in the room that I didn’t want to say anything yet.

The NICU nurse told me to tell her when I was ready for her to take him to be weighed and checked out. After about 15 minutes of holding him I told her that she could take him. I couldn’t even concentrate on what was going on at this point. It’s all I could think. Down Syndrome. And honestly, it’s all I could see. Down Syndrome.

Collin followed the nurse over to the table where they were checking him out. I was getting all taken care of by my doctor and he kept telling me how that was a tough labor and how I did good because that’s not easy having them OP and on and on.. I can’t remember what else he said. I was too focused on one thing. Down Syndrome.

Collin was taking pictures of Case being measured and weighed and kept looking over at me. I was giving him a look. I was hoping he would give me some sort of sign that he saw it too and reassure me that I wasn’t just being dramatic. I didn’t want to ask and sound rude and have all the nurses laugh and wonder why I would even ask such a thing if he really wasn’t. I was hoping Collin would give me a look and I would know that he shared the same worry. (After talking to Collin after the whole thing he says he noticed I was giving him a look but thought I was maybe a little delusional from labor! Haha!)

He was completely oblivious.

I waited until it was just the NICU nurse, Collin, Case and I. I stirred some more inside about whether or not to ask for a few moments, then I finally did.

“Does he look Down Syndrome?” I said.

“He does have some features. Low muscle tone, flat face…..” I think she said more things but I couldn’t even think straight enough to really listen to what she was saying.

Collin and I looked at each other and listened as the nurse told us there was nothing for sure yet and they would have to do some testing to be positive. Collin kept saying “I don’t think he is. They will do the testing, but it will be okay!”

I knew that he was though. Something inside me just knew it! Call it motherly instinct or whatever you may. After him reassuring me that everything was going to be okay a few times I finally just said he is. I think he is honey.

We were left alone in the delivery room.

The next half hour is time I don’t think I could ever erase from my memory even if I tried. We hugged, all three of us, and cried. I have never felt so close to heaven as I did then.

I remember telling Collin that I was so sad that he wasn’t going to look like us. (Totally not true. He looks a lot like Collin now!) We talked about all the things we had imagined he was going to grow up and do. Play sports, drive the tractors, give us grandchildren etc.. and after a good half hour of processing and throwing this “idea” of who we thought Case would be right out the window we realized just how blessed we were, and that everything truly was going to be okay.

My doctor came back in and talked to us about how lucky we were. He gave me a hug and talked for us at a great length about how great of parents we were going to be to this special guy. He reassured me that my fears that me being extremely sick during my pregnancy and taking nausea meds caused this were not true.

He told us about his palms and how he had noticed he had a simian crease (common in Down Syndrome) on one hand but not the other. If you don’t know what this is google it! Case has one on his Left hand! He said that he went back and forth in his head as to whether or not he thought he was. He then offered to tell my mom, who was out in the waiting room. We took him up on that offer and figured it would be better for our family to know before they came in.

I have to pause here and say that I had the BEST doctor. Seriously I know that it was meant to be that I chose him and that Case came early so he could deliver me. He handled the whole situation so well and I don’t know what I’d have done if he wasn’t the one talking me through everything. I get emotional when I think about him because I truly believe everything he said to us was straight from our Heavenly Father. He was an angel to us during this time!

From here on our family came and we all cried tears of Joy! We felt so touched, and loved by our Heavenly Father for trusting us to have this perfect spirit in our lives.

Many people have told us that these precious babies only come to special families, but I beg to differ. I mean thanks for the compliment and it means a lot that people think that, but I truly think that he came here to make us better. I mean what better way to encourage us to be our best selves? He came here to strengthen our testimony and to remind us what life is really about!

I have occasional moments still when I think of what the future holds and cry for him. I don’t want to have to check him for leukemia each year because his chances of getting it are a lot higher. I don’t want him to be left out. I don’t want to have to watch him struggle through health problems other kids aren’t facing. I don’t want him to struggle for things that will come so much easier to other kids. In fact once I cried to Collin because I said he might not get to go to school dances. Collin was pretty quick to put my emotions in check when he told me that Case will be happy regardless. I want to protect him from all the stares he will get, and the finger pointing. Things like that are going to be harder on us than they will on him.

Right now he is still a baby and not much is different about him compared to other babies. I realize that is going to change. Things will get harder, he won’t hit his milestones as fast as other babies, and things such as walking and speaking will be a lot harder for him. I am well aware of that, but I am choosing to enjoy these baby moments and not worry myself sick over what is to come. We will take each day at a time.

Now to answer the questions we always get.

No, we had no idea he had Down Syndrome we weren’t just hiding it from people.

No, we didn’t get the genetic screening done when I was pregnant that would have told us he had it. We figured why would we? We were going to love and keep the baby no matter what.

No, my doctor didn’t miss something. I had many ultrasounds and all his body parts including intestines were in tact and his heart looked good. He was growing at a normal rate. These are things that usually cause questions if there are problems. So nothing seemed alarming. He wouldn’t show his face during his 3D ultrasound- I was so mad about this then, but it makes sense now. He knew this mama would have worried if I saw him and noticed he had Down Syndrome. I would have been doing all sorts of googling and worrying. The only thing that was worrisome during my pregnancy was my weight loss and my placenta was older than it should be. It was aging and calcifying early. Neither of which are signs of Down Syndrome.

He’s been really healthy compared to many. He has an ASD (a hole) in his heart that could need surgery that we are meeting with a cardiologist from Primary Children’s to address in January. We have to follow up with a audiologist because he failed his hearing test twice. (Their ear canals are a lot shorter so the test often isn’t accurate. He startles when he hears loud noises so I’m not too worried about this!). He is still on oxygen, but he is on the lowest it can be! So we are hoping he will be off it soon.

Did me being extremely sick during my pregnancy cause this? Nope! Down Syndrome is determined when conception happens. It is an extra chromosome and it has nothing to do with the many nausea meds I was on, or how much weight I lost during the first two trimesters. I bet you didn’t know that Down Syndrome CAN be genetic between the two parent’s genes. We are waiting for our genetic testing to come back to find out if that’s our case and if we have high chances of having another one. Even if they say we have a 90% chance of having another baby with Down Syndrome, we already have decided we would have another baby in a heart beat. God’s plan will lay out the way it is intended regardless of “odds”.

Do we wish we would have known? Absolutely not! We would have just worried about things we didn’t need to worry about. And no, we won’t get the genetic testing done next time either.

I hope that answers some of your questions. I know many of our close friends have been asked these things because people don’t want to offend us. Please don’t feel like you have to beat around the bush. You won’t offend us. What does offend us however, is when you tell us you are sorry. Please PLEASE don’t be sorry for us. We feel so lucky! There is absolutely nothing to be sorry for, if anything you should be jealous. 🙂 I mean seriously, how lucky am I that I’ll always have a grocery shopping buddy for the rest of my life, and Christmas will always be magical in our house!

Remember at the beginning of this story when I said all I could see when I looked at Case was Down Syndrome? It makes me so sad that that’s all I could see! Now I don’t even think he looks Down Syndrome. I honestly don’t think he does! He looks like my Case boy! I literally just see a perfect little boy. That’s exactly what he is. PERFECT.

If you’d like to follow along on his story I’ve set up an Instagram account for him.
@incaseyouredown

I can’t wait to share the joy this little boy has brought to our lives with everyone else.

We love Holland more than we could have ever imagined. Given the choice again, we would choose Holland over Italy all over again.

https://www.incaseyouredown.com/single-post/2017/01/16/-Then-There-Were-3

February 9 2017

Taitum’s Birth Story

Hospital Births 0

My name is Haylie Krum. I was due with my second child, my first daughter on February 25th. The day came and went with no contractions other then some discomfort in my lower back. I went to sleep that night feeling annoyed I was still pregnant and not having contractions I was certain I’d be pregnant for a few more days at least. I woke up around midnight having some contractions, nothing that hurt or were unbearable. I showered and washed my hair. I took the time to blow dry and straighten it. Hoping the longer I stood the more consistent my contractions would get but around 12:30 I stopped having contractions completely. I decided I would get some sleep since I had a 2 year old I’d have to entertain the next day I needed all the sleep I could get. I woke back up soaking wet around 2:00 AM. My first thought was my son peed the bed. When I realized it was my water that broke. I took the time to wake up my husband, change my clothes, get my son dressed, change the sheets on my bed, grabbed my bag and called my mother in law to tell her it was baby time and we’d pick her up in 10 mins. I didn’t start having constant contractions until we were almost to the hospital which was 20 mins away. By this time it was 2:45 AM… I remember standing up out of the car and as soon as I stood up a gush of water running down my legs. My pants soaking wet, my socks and shoes soaking wet and waddling into the hospital, standing at the front desk to check in. Telling the receptionist my water broke, I was soaked and my contractions were getting stronger and more consistent. She pointed us to the first room and said I could use the restroom to put on a nightgown and nurse would be in once she was done with another patient.

After I got dressed and cleaned up the nurse came in to monitor my contractions. She hooked me up to the monitors and said she would be back in to check to see how dilated I was in a few minutes. I asked her when I could get my epidural. She kind of laughed and said you need to be checked in, we need to check you and you just got here. I was very persistent in telling her I wanted an epidural or I wanted something.

It wasn’t long after she left that I told my mother in law I needed to push. My mother in law went to find the nurse to tell her it was time and I felt the urge to push. I could hear the nurse in an annoyed voice say “ya okay. I’ll be in after I’m done.” My mother in walked back in and told me just to breath, not to push yet. I kept telling my mother in law I needed to push and I was having this baby right now. My mother in law stuck her head out of the room and said “she’s pushing” The nurse came in to check me. Seeming extremely annoyed this time and angry. She said “your a plus 1.. don’t push. Just breath. Her head is right there.” She rushed out to get the doctor that was already there. It wasn’t my doctor, My doctor hadn’t got to the hospital yet, she thought I would be in labor for a few hours so she didn’t rush in.

It felt like seconds before my room was full of nurses and doctors and everyone was in such a panic to get everything ready for the baby because no one bothered checking me when I got to the hospital to see how far dilated I was. The nurse figured since I was walking and talking, my contractions weren’t that bad, i couldn’t be dilated more then a 4 or 5, Plus I had only been in the room for 30 mins. I hadn’t even been checked in yet.

My husband had my son in the room when all the nurses rushed in. My son only being 2 years old started to panic and cry. I told my husband to take him out and bring him back once I had drugs and everything was ready. He took him to the car to get his suitcase of toys I had packed and his blanket.

Meanwhile the doctor that was already there was telling me to breath, not to push and try and relax. I started to panic thinking “I don’t have drugs, I don’t have anything for pain.” I asked the nurse over and over again to give me something to manage the pain. My son was 8lbs and I could vividly remember how painful and exhausting it was pushing him out with an epidural. There was no way I could do it without an epidural. The nurse said “there isn’t any time for an IV, you don’t have time for an epidural, you can do this without anything, you have no choice.”

A man came in to my room to check me into the hospital, he was asking me all sorts of questions. I remember wanting to tell him to shut up, and yelling at him. Couldn’t he see I was in the middle of having a baby. The last thing I wanted to do was answer all his non sense questions.

I tried breathing but the urge to push was getting stronger and stronger. I had no control over what my body was doing. My body completely took over and after 3-4 pushes my baby girl was born at 3:33 AM.

My husband walked in a few minutes after I delivered. He said “I missed it? I just walked to the car and back. When I walked back in i could hear a baby crying” he thought “no way is that my baby.”

It all happened so fast, I couldn’t believe I never had hard consistent contractions. Apparently the nurse didn’t think it would happen so fast either. She was so annoyed with me when I said I felt like I needed to push. I’m sure a lot of women feel like they need to push and are having the baby right now and then, out of fear and anxiety, But it rarely actually happens.

From the time my water broke to the time I delivered my little girl it all happened within an hour and a half. I only had consistent contractions for about 45 mins.

My little girl was a healthy 6lbs 15oz 19 inches!

January 2 2017

Lyla’s Birth Story

Hospital Births 0

My name is Samantha Holland. This is my second child’s birth story.

Lyla made her appearance on Sunday, June 2! I was 37 weeks and 4 days along. I was so uncomfortable by that point that to me it was 4 days too long! After 6 and a half weeks on bed rest I didn’t want to go a day over 37 weeks. I don’t know what it is about being pregnant but those last few weeks just drag out and it seems that you are never going to meet that baby.

The Friday before I had gone to the Dr and found out I was dilated to a 4 and still 80% effaced. I was glad to hear that I was progressing but she also made me well aware and to prepare mentally that I could still go to 40 weeks!

On Sunday morning I woke up with a really bad cramping pain in my lower stomach. It was constant for about an hour and a half. I then started noticing it only when I was having contractions. This whole pregnancy I had just planned on my water breaking, I’m not really sure why, I guess just because that’s what I knew from my first pregnancy! I was also nervous about counting contractions and since I hadn’t really been feeling them the last 2 months I was worried I wouldn’t really know what labor was like. Anyway…I kept having the pain so I started to keep track. At first the contractions were really random they were going anywhere from every 7-8 min up to 15 or 20. By noon they were getting stronger and more consistent. They were about every 20 min and extremely uncomfortable! I had been texting my friend Tressa, who is a labor and delivery nurse, asking her about it and getting her expert advice. My husband came home from his meetings and decided we should just go up to the hospital and get checked. I was really hesitant because I did not want to be sent home! By the time my mother in law got to my house and we were on our way they were coming every 6 min. We got to the hospital at 2:30 pm and it seemed like they were taking FOREVER to get me hooked up and let me know what was going on (even though I’m sure everything was done in a timely matter). The nurse checked me I was at a 5 and completely thinned.

They got me into my room, got my IV going, and gave me an epidural. I was so relieved to have that even though I was terrified. My last epidural experience wasn’t the greatest. The Dr came in and broke my water. Within 2 minutes of my water breaking I was at an 8+. Also right after my water broke the baby dropped suddenly into my cervix. They were noticing with each contraction the baby’s heart rate would drop, so she kept me well aware that another c-section wasn’t completely out of the picture. They gave me a shot of terbutaline. It was supposed to slow the contractions a bit just to help give the baby a little break and put me on my side because she did better when I was laying on my left side. After about an hour it was time to push! I pushed for 3 rounds of contractions and then they decided with my c-section and for the baby that we better just help her along and get her here quick, still reminding me I wasn’t totally cleared from having another c-section. They got the vacuum and said they will only do it 3 times and after that they would have to cut! She came out on the last try! I was so glad to have her here safely. Her cord had been wrapped around her neck which was causing the heart rate to drop with the contractions! She was born at 5:45 weighing 7 lbs 3 oz and 20 inches long with lots of dark hair! She is perfect!

Everything went well and we are so happy to have our little Lyla here

January 1 2017

Charlotte’s Birth Story

Hospital Births 0

I don’t normally share birth stories as the doula. The stories belong to the families! But this story is one that I couldn’t keep in. Because while it is always all about my clients, and while it is my intention during a birth to make them feel like the most important people in the world, this story had a big impact on me and my life, too.

This is the story of the birth that changed my life.

I met Meghan and Wes nine years ago in college. We were all studying music at West Virginia University when we met each other and our spouses. We were in the same classes, went to the same parties, and played in the same ensembles. We were in each other’s weddings and vowed to stay in touch. The year after my husband and I received music jobs on the Eastern Shore, Meghan got one, too! We were so excited to be close again and for Wes to bring his clarinet business to the Eastern Shore.

Naturally, we all became best friends again. We shared dinners on the weekends and even lived together one weekend when their home was evacuated for a hurricane. They were the first people we told when we had our girls. And they have been there to watch my girls grow up and see all of their “firsts”.

Last December, Meghan and I were taking my girls to the Salisbury Christmas Parade when Meghan shared the fabulous news that they were expecting! I knew that they had been trying for a while, and I was equally happy for them and excited to meet their new baby that would get to grow up with my girls!

Almost right away, they hired me to be their doula. They were planning a natural birth at the same birth center that I birthed my first daughter. I was excited to be going back and so thrilled to witness the birth of this baby, who I already loved. Meghan and Wes were some of the first participants of the class I worked so hard to design, Thrive Childbirth Education. They were so excited and adamant about their natural birth plan, and I had planned to support them in whatever they needed and wanted.

While they were pregnant, I had decided to study through Stillbirthday to become a certified Birth and Bereavement Doula. I was unlike many of my class members, as I had never experienced a pregnancy or infant loss before. To be completely honest, I had no clue what motivated me to take this training. But I was completely committed to it and finished the program in March. I wasn’t yet sure if I would ever put myself out there as a bereavement doula, but knew that I had learned some valuable information, should I ever need it.

As their due date drew nearer, Meghan began telling me that she was measuring small (the measurement in centimeters that they take from your pubic bone to your fundus at OB/midwife appointments). However, both Meghan and Wes are small people, and nothing seemed too concerning. But when her belly wasn’t growing at all after 3 or 4 appointments, her midwives recommended abiophysical profile to take a closer look at baby… just to be sure. Meghan and Wes originally wanted to decline the ultrasound, as they had declined other ultrasounds in their pregnancy. They weren’t sure whether the potential risks of a long ultrasound at 38 weeks would be worth it to find out that everything was perfectly normal in the first place.

They decided to go ahead with one biophysical profile, just to be sure baby was still growing normally. I went with Meghan while Wes was working on Thursday, July 21st. It was really cute to see their baby up on the big screen. The ultrasound tech seemed like she knew what she was doing and was busy chatting a bit, while taking measurements and snapping pictures. After it was all over, the tech said she’d be right back. She was supposed to report back to Meghan’s midwives with information. When she came back she said that they were busy, and as soon as they were able to connect, her midwives would give Meghan a call. She seemed perfectly happy and didn’t look concerned to me at that point (although I now know that she was).

When I got home, I had to teach some private music lessons almost immediately. I was in my first lesson when Meghan called back. I didn’t answer since I was teaching and instead texted “Hey I’m teaching. Everything okay?”. I waited a minute and got a reply, “No.”.

When I stepped out and called, Meghan was crying. She told me that the midwives called and told her that there was basically zero amniotic fluid with her baby. This could be life threatening to her baby, so they wanted her to drive immediately to our local hospital for a non-stress test and possibly a cesarean that very night. I was, of course, completely shocked. Since Meghan lived about 30 minutes away and she was still in town, I told her to come to my house and that Wes could meet us here.

We hugged and talked for a little bit. She was scared, of course, but wanted to be sure that her baby was as safe as possible, so we were just calm and hanging out with my two toddlers while we waited for Wes. He brought the whole birth bag just in case they would be having a baby tonight!

At the hospital, the midwife and nurses did a non-stress test, which showed that baby seemed perfectly fine and healthy. The care providers at PRMC told them that low amniotic fluid alone wasn’t a clear indicator for induction. They advised them to go home and rest. Of course, after the providers at our hospital told the midwives at the birth center, and after the birth center consulted their maternal fetal medicine (high-risk) specialists about her case, they recommended that Meghan and Wes made the 2 hour drive that very moment for an induction that night. And they politely declined, but agreed to come in the morning for a second biophysical profile with the specialists, just to be sure.

We had dinner together that evening at my home. We talked about the crazy day we had and how they really didn’t think anything was wrong. We were all surprised at how insistent the “holistic” midwives were that the baby come out tonight, when our doctors at our local practice told her that her baby seemed perfectly healthy on the non-stress test.

The next morning, they made the trip to Annapolis for a second opinion on the biophysical profile. I had my bags packed to join them just in case they ended up with a baby that day, but I didn’t really think it would happen. I spent the morning pulling weeds and working outside while thinking about them and how it was going. As I jumped in the shower after working in the August sun, I finally got a text message from Meghan:

“Amniotic fluid is basically zero. They can’t find any kidneys or bladder. Without kidneys, the baby will die after birth. We’re going to AAMC for induction. You should come now.”

“worst nightmare”

I was completely in shock and “respond” mode. I was in the shower, so I jumped out, toweled off, texted my husband to come upstairs now, and started getting ready. I was in the car within minutes. I was nervous, scared, worried about my friends and their baby, and in a real hurry to get there. On my way, I called and talked to my mom and my doula/mentor to keep my mind from racing too much. They both promised to pray and reassured me that I would be able to support my friends no matter what. I told them that it wasn’t fair that my first bereavement birth after receiving my certification was for my best friends. I was still feeling pretty raw from the sudden death of my little brother just months before, and I truly didn’t know if I could do it.

I didn’t waste any time, but I didn’t speed either. While I was alone in the car, I tried to think about everything that I learned about babies who passed after birth. I would need to be strong enough to explain to my friends what to expect and yet compassionate enough to support them through a potentially long induction and birth. Two hours later, I pulled into the hospital parking garage. I practically ran to the elevators, through the Labor and Delivery doors and down to the room where the nurse told they would be. I quietly opened the door to my friends sitting on a couch together talking with their midwife.

I was breathing heavily from running and when I walked in it was completely silent.

Without speaking, I walked across the room and sat down with my friends when Wes said “Well, the induction is not until Monday”. Apparently Labor and Delivery was really busy that day (Friday), so they decided to wait until Monday for the induction. Their baby had been surviving with extremely low amniotic fluid levels and seemed to be doing fine for some time (they estimated up to 6 weeks or so), so they figured a few more days probably wouldn’t make a difference. Everyone seemed so relieved.

It was kind of awkward because we were all in shock, sad, relieved, and scared at the same time. The midwife came back with a specialist on the phone from Children’s National Health System in DC. He expressed his apologies about their situation but offered them a pretty innovative opportunity. He told them that he could see them early Monday morning for a fetal MRI to get a closer look at baby’s renal system and lungs. He told them that he would hopefully be able to get a more concrete diagnosis before the induction that morning so that they would know how to prepare for their baby’s treatment after birth. They decided to accept the offer and scheduled an MRI in Washington D.C. at 7:30am and an induction in Annapolis at 9am.

We spent the next hour or so on the phone making appointments and then made the two hour trip back home to the Eastern shore. Meghan’s parents were on their way from upstate New York and they needed to stop at the grocery store to stock their fridge for guests. Wes took my husband to the store with him while Meghan and I stayed at my house with the girls. Meghan and I talked about how it all seemed so strange and so awkward that we just found out that her baby might die and we were doing normal things like grocery shopping and watching my kids play. When they went home that night, I promised to stay in touch.

Guys, thank God for texting.

We spent the time between her diagnosis and her birth texting constantly. It was so much easier for Meghan to express her thoughts and feelings through texts than saying it all out loud. Our relationship as friends grew leaps and bounds through those messages, many of which I saved so that I wouldn’t forget. The good and bad feelings, the fears, the worries, the logistics,etc. It was like having a diary to process our thoughts together. And it was so much easier to text our thoughts than say them out loud.

On Sunday, we scheduled our prenatal meeting together. It was supposed to be a meeting where we discussed their dreams and desires for their beautiful water birth. But instead, I got my first taste of what it was like to be a bereavement doula. I met with Meghan and Wes and we discussed their options. If the MRI the next day confirmed their worst fears, and baby truly did not have a bladder or kidneys, and severely underdeveloped lungs, they would have a few choices. The staff at their hospital informed them that they could continue with the induction the next day, with the understanding that the baby might not make it through the stress of labor and die before birth. Or they could wait for spontaneous labor, knowing that the baby may pass before labor begins, and then definitely deliver a stillborn baby. Or, they could schedule a cesarean to guarantee that Meghan and Wes would have a chance to meet and hold their baby still alive, and then know that baby would probably pass in her arms shortly after.

We talked about what to expect with all of the options, including the details that I didn’t ever want to have to share with my friends.

They were aware that funeral arrangements would have to be made, but weren’t ready to talk about it yet, so Meghan’s mother and I talked through their options and I contacted a funeral home, asked questions about their options in terms of transportation of the baby’s physical form and services. I gathered all of that information and placed it in a folder in my birth bag. They decided to wait until after the MRI in the morning to make a final decision about their birth plans.

The next morning, I knew that it would likely take a long time before the MRI was finished and they were able to talk with all of the necessary specialists in DC, so I did the only thing I could think of to pass time. I feverishly cleaned my house. I literally was scrubbing the freaking baseboards because if I sat still too long, I started getting sick thinking about what might happen later that day. I had a knot in the pit of my stomach and every once in a while, I had to sit down and mentally tell myself that what they were about to go through was much harder than my role in the process, and that I could support them 100%. I knew that there would be a lot of processing and healing time afterward for everyone and I planned to give myself the energy and space for that after the birth.

When Meghan finally called, she told me that the news wasn’t good. They were unable to find any bladder or kidneys still. They told her that her baby’s lungs were severely underdeveloped (as a result of the low amniotic fluid) and that her worst nightmares were confirmed. Life outside of the womb for their baby was highly unlikely. They weren’t going through with the induction. They were coming home and waiting for their baby to decide when it was time to be born. They were aware that there was a risk of stillbirth, but they wanted to respect their baby’s timing.

Baby Rice’s diagnosis:
• Bilateral Renal Agenesis
• Pulmonary Hypoplasia
• Anhydramnios
• Potential slight spinal malformation

I was absolutely heartbroken for my friends. And I was so relieved to know that today wasn’t the day.

We didn’t know it at the time, but we still had another two whole weeks before their baby was born. They decided after the MRI to find out the sex of their baby so that at least for a short while alive, their baby could have a name. Here is the MRI photo of Charlotte Catherine Rice.

**Part III will be posted soon…**

***Of course, I have received full permission from Meghan and Wes to share my version of this story and use their real names***

We were in a really weird space. Baby Charlotte’s heart could stop beating at any moment. And yet, there was nothing to do but wait. Wes owns his own business which is right next to their home. He would come home during lunch and talk to and read to Charlotte.

Wes would wake up in the middle of the night and feel Meghan’s belly just to be sure that Charlotte would still kick back.

My family spent a good bit of time with them during this time. We looked at Charlotte’s MRI photos, we talked about her and to her, and we tried to keep busy. I remember Wes being pretty down. But Meghan was surprisingly not. It’s hard to try to understand how she was feeling, but I think I can compare it to how sometimes people in devastating situations just do what needs to be done because there is simply nothing else to do. She knew that there would be a time after the birth to grieve, mourn, process, and then finally begin healing. It seemed to me that she was blocking those emotions while still holding out hope for baby Charlotte and her desire to spend whatever time she had with her in a positive way.

In conjunction with their midwives, the bereavement coordinator at the hospital she would be delivering in, the specialists at Children’s National Medical Center, and me, Meghan and Wes drafted a number of birth plans to be prepared for all of the potential outcomes. One for if Charlotte had passed before before birth (stillbirth plan), one for if Charlotte was born and it was clear that she would not be able to breathe on her own (comfort care only), and one for if Charlotte was born with vigorous breathing and crying (potential for medical care).

Their specialists told them that there was only about a 5% chance that Charlotte would be born with the potential to breathe on her own since her lungs were so underdeveloped. And after that, only a 5% chance that she would continue to be able to do so and medical care would actually be a possibility. The statistics were pretty clear: It was a fatal diagnosis. Because of this information, Meghan and Wes made the very difficult decision to only intervene with medical care if Charlotte was born breathing, crying, and made it very obvious to the medical staff that her lungs would function completely on their own. The specialists told them that it would be very easy to be able to tell the difference. If so, Meghan and Wes were comfortable providing Charlotte with the care that she needed for her renal system.

There were so many text conversations with Meghan about how they came to this decision and why they were so adamant about not interfering. They knew that if Charlotte was born alive that it was highly likely that they would only have a few moments or hours with her. They didn’t want those moments to be spent with Charlotte whisked away, hooked up to a ventilator, and away from the ones who love her.

They didn’t want her to live her only earthly moments out of their loving arms. They didn’t want her to die on a table surrounded by strangers.

My brain still has a difficult time wrapping around this issue. I can absolutely see and understand the desire to want to do anything possible to save your child. And I know that there are parents out there who would make that choice. As their doula, I planned to support them no matter what their decision was. But truly, I felt so much respect for their decision to completely respect Charlotte’s story and path and their desire to keep her as comfortable and at ease as possible.

During this time, our conversations moved to her fears. She had a few clear and distinct fears that she wanted to be able to work through before her birth. In my childbirth education class, we talk a lot about using affirmations to help process fears and move away from negative thoughts. I offered to create some pretty affirmations for Meghan to read to herself every day. I’ll share a few of them here.

Before I do, I want to share that I understand that these affirmations are not within everyone’s belief systems. That’s totally okay. I made sure that the wording was something that Meghan was comfortable with and that she completely approved. I know that everyone will approach such a difficult subject by bringing their own life experiences, spiritual and religious beliefs, and heart with them. As her doula, it wasn’t within my scope or desire to express my beliefs. I simply wanted to support her in processing her fears so that she would be as mentally prepared as possible for her labor and birth.

Some of the fears: That Charlotte won’t be born alive, that she will be in pain, that she will not breathe on her own.

When Meghan went into labor, our hearts all sank.

We spent that day texting and talking. She told me she wasn’t ready to do it. My stomach was in knots and I was nervous all day. Wes was having a rough time and didn’t really know what to do with himself all day. It wasn’t like my other clients. When they call and say they are in labor, I congratulate them, tell them to keep in touch until they need me, and we talk about how they should try to rest even though they’re so excited. This situation just felt like pure dread.

My family was in town for a vacation and thank goodness, too. I was distracted all day while Meghan’s labor slowly increased in intensity. Even though things were moving slowly and contractions were still pretty far apart, their care providers assured them that if they made the 2 hour trip to Annapolis, they would not be turned away for not being in “active labor”. To be on the safe side, we headed to Annapolis that evening.

Meghan’s contractions were still pretty far apart and manageable. We were all trying to be our normal selves without thinking about the inevitable. Sometimes we were joking and laughing because really, what else is there to do? The staff at the hospital was FANTASTIC. They gave us a very large labor and delivery room in the corner so as not to be interrupted or distracted by crying babies, labor sounds, or the general hustle and bustle of a hospital.

In some ways, the regular “rules” of the hospital Labor and Delivery department didn’t apply to Meghan. She chose to never have electronic fetal monitoring. EFM are those bands that you see around women’s bellies in the hospital. They have sensors on them to measure both your contractions and the baby’s heart rate. Most of the time, hospitals have policies about wearing them so that they are able to monitor the baby’s heart rate and the length of your contractions. But, we knew that it was a possibility that Charlotte, who was still alive and kicking at the start of her labor, would not make it through the stress of labor and pass away before she was born. Meghan chose not to do any monitoring of her heart beat so that we didn’t know if and when that happened. The goal of this labor was very simple: focus on making it through labor just like any other pregnant woman would. I learned in my bereavement training the importance of encouraging your client to take it one contraction at a time and focus on birth first, then baby later. It makes sense, right? How could a woman possibly push a baby out knowing that the baby may not come out alive or if it does, know that she will likely die in your arms moments later? The hospital did a fantastic job at sending us the perfect nurses for a situation like Meghan’s.

Truly, our nurses were like gifts from Heaven.

They read her multiple birth plans over and over and worked hard to create the exact atmosphere that Meghan and Wes wanted. They were compassionate, attentive, funny when we needed to lighten up stressful moments, encouraging, helpful, and the most wonderful nurses I’ve ever had the privilege to work with. They, along with their doctors and a midwife, inspired this blog post about what I call the Birth Dream Team.

When we arrived at the hospital, Meghan was admitted right away and the midwife on call checked her and determined that she was about 3 centimeters dilated. She had been having contractions for nearly 24 hours at that point and they were still manageable and far apart, so we all got settled in the room and decided to try and get some sleep. It was around 1:30am at that point. In the room for the entire labor and birth was me, Wes, Meghan’s mom Mary Ellen, and Meghan. We all got comfortable and turned out the lights. Before we were able to doze off, Meghan’s labor began picking up. Mary Ellen, Wes, and I took turns for the next few hours rubbing Meghan’s back, holding her hands, helping her to the bathroom, and breathing with her through contractions. She truly seemed in complete control. Her labor was definitely becoming more intense, but she was doing a fantastic job breathing through each wave. When the midwife came back in to check her again, she was already to 5cm. That was reassuring. It’s a strange place to be in, though. You wish for it to go quickly for her sake, but at the same time, it’s impossible not to think about what is coming when labor is over. And then you wish it would never happen.

MEGHAN AND WES BREATHING THROUGH CONTRACTIONS TOGETHER

Their goal was an un-medicated birth, not matter what. It was their original plan before diagnosis, but now that they knew that Charlotte was so compromised, they didn’t want to make the experience any more stressful for her. They declined all drugs and interventions so that Charlotte would be most comfortable. Meghan was completely educated and prepared about what to expect and how to make it through labor and she was a complete rockstar through the whole experience.

After a few more hours of intense labor, we were all beginning to feel very tired. Meghan had been in labor for nearly 24 hours total, no one had slept in about 24 hours, no one had eaten in about 12 hours or more, and we were so emotionally drained. When the midwife entered again and offered to check Meghan, she was hopeful that her labor would be almost over. Her midwife’s vaginal exam was very uncomfortable for her. And when another contraction started, the midwife did not remove her hand. Instead, she left her hand where it was even though Meghan cried out in pain.

When the midwife still didn’t move her hand, Meghan yelled “no. no. No. NO!” and literally grabbed her hand and pulled it out of her.

I was in complete shock. I could not believe my eyes and what I just witnessed. It is worth mentioning that this midwife also attended the birth of my first daughter and I wasn’t so pleased with her care back then either. We were all silent and in shock and very, very angry. The midwife proceeded to stand up, look down on my friend, and tell her that she was still only 5cm after all of those hours and all of that work. She told her (in a polite voice) that if she was not progressing faster by the next time she came in, she might consider augmentation with pitocin and even mentioned that it could lead to a cesarean. She was the only person in that entire experience who did not respect Meghan and Wes’ wishes by honoring their birth plan. After she left, and I realized how upset everyone was, I told them that it wouldn’t be unreasonable to request another midwife.

It was just coincidence that the best midwife to ever live happened to come on shift shortly after. Our nurse told us that they had the option to switch midwives and they jumped on the opportunity. In the meantime, the nurse on shift took over all of Meghan’s care and was absolutely fantastic, compassionate, and respected every wish.

After another few hours and another vaginal exam, Meghan was still at 5-6cm. That was really heartbreaking for her because she was working so, so hard. Everyone in the room was physically exhausted, emotionally exhausted, and our bodies were beginning to fail us because we were all working hard, especially Meghan. My arm was so sore from rubbing Meghan’s back during contractions. At one point, I woke up from a dream, looked around, and realized that I was still standing where I was a moment ago. I actually fell asleep while standing up right next to her hospital bed.

Meghan preferred to be laying on her side while laboring, but after that last check I could see that she was wearing thin. We all were. I suggested that she be upright for contractions to take advantage of gravity and help her baby move down. She hesitated because it was so much more uncomfortable that way. When the nurse came back in, she finally asked for an epidural. It felt like time was standing still. The nurse understood and said she would grab the anesthesiologist. It was only a short time later when the nurse said they were ready. Meghan had been standing for about 40 minutes. I mentioned that it was a possibility to get another check to see if things had progressed before she was ready for her epidural. She agreed and was already at 8cm!

MARY ELLEN AND MEGHAN. MARY ELLEN WAS THE MOST FANTASTIC SUPPORT FOR MEGHAN. SHE SHOULD BE A DOULA.

She held off on the epidural and we kept trying to do what seemed to be working. Standing, swaying, on hands and knees, and generally upright. After just a few more hours, a new nurse on shift, and the most supportive midwife ever, Meghan was making grunting and pushing noises. Sure enough, 10 centimeters.

That’s when the energy in the room shifted.

Everyone was scared for the moment of birth and now that we knew it was closer, we were all noticeably anxious. Meghan requested to see her affirmations again to help as the fears were cropping up. But, in the end, the affirmations were too hard to read in labor.

I spent a lot of time holding Meghan’s leg up while pushing, breathing with her, and holding her squeezing hand. Meghan’s mom was often holding the other leg. And Wes was holding her hand and helping hold her head up while talking to her. I cannot imagine that experience without the three of us. Almost always, we were all actively and physically involved in supporting Meghan and I don’t know how it would have worked without any piece of the puzzle. It was so, so, so intense, painful, and scary. During my lowest of low moments at that birth, I felt 100% sure that doula work was over for me. I was terrified that I would never be able to attend another birth again.

Meghan pushed for hours and hours. She preferred being on her back, but we tried many positions to get Charlotte to move down. Hands and knees, squatting with the squat bar, squatting without the squat bar, on her side, etc. Meghan told us that she knew that Charlotte had not moved down at all. And she was right. The midwife told us that Charlotte was stuck under Meghan’s pubic bone. After four hours of pushing and absolutely no progress, the room felt flat. The midwife, who was so calm and reassuring, told Meghan that her only options were to keep it up, receive an epidural, or have a cesarean. Meghan consulted her family and decided in the end to receive an epidural so that she could get some sleep and hopefully push her baby out after she gained some more energy. I knew that she was feeling defeated and weak. I tried to reassure her that she was strong and that Charlotte knew that. I told her that it’s totally okay to accept her epidural so that she could take care of herself and that she was making a good choice.

It didn’t take long after her epidural was placed for her to relax. The energy in the room shifted again. It was light, happier, and so much more calm. We had all been on edge and anxious for so long. Meghan’s dad and Wes’ parents had been in the lobby sleeping and waiting for nearly 24 hours so Meghan’s mom went to get some sleep, some dinner, and to update them. Wes and I got Meghan settled in her bed, covered her up to keep her warm, and got her some jello and water. A new nurse came on shift again and was, once again, the perfect nurse. This woman was spunky, upbeat, warm, inviting, and was excellent at her job. She brought with her the exact type of energy that we needed at the time. Wes went to get dinner and during that time Meghan and I were alone. We reflected on the events of the past day, we laughed a little, we cried a little, we talked about how we didn’t ever expect this to be the route that this birth took. Meghan was now hooked up to many wires and machines and just two weeks ago she was planning a quiet out-of-hospital water birth. We got her set up on her side with a peanut ball between her legs to give Charlotte some room to re-position and move down. Finally, Meghan was able to fall asleep.

Wes and I went downstairs to eat dinner in the lobby. I was still so sick to my stomach that I couldn’t eat more than a few bites. Everything felt surreal. I couldn’t eat. I hadn’t slept at all in over 36 hours. I had been there for what felt like forever and the moment that I was most terrified of hadn’t even come yet.

I think it’s worth mentioning that what I was most scared of wasn’t seeing Charlotte. We knew that her features would likely be different or strange, as many babies with her diagnosis were. We knew that if she was born not alive, she would look a little different. And we knew that if she was born alive, that her physical features could change quickly after her death. Watching a baby die isn’t exactly what I was scared of–although it was certainly sitting in the pit of my stomach. I think that what I was most afraid of was watching my best friend have to go through all of it. I still get tears just thinking about how badly my friends were hurting.

When the originally got the diagnosis, I bought Meghan a tree of life necklace to wear at her birth. I wore one, too. It really helped to keep us connected and moving toward her goals.

We went back to Meghan’s room and she was stirring. We all got comfortable to take a good nap. It was about 10pm at this point and we had been at the hospital for nearly 24 hours. Meghan’s mom was asleep on a little cot/bed, Wes wrapped up in a chair sitting up, and I was sitting on a birth ball, leaned over Meghan’s bed. I slept with my head on pillows on her legs. I was only asleep for about 45 minutes when Meghan told us to head downstairs to get some rest in the lobby since no one was really resting well. Her mom was with her in case she needed anything.

It was then that Wes and I had a real heart to heart conversation. We made make-shift beds in the lobby of the hospital by pushing a bunch of chairs together. We spent some time talking about what had happened and what was to come.

Wes told me that he had already grieved the loss of his daughter and that he knew that Meghan had not yet. We discussed how we would have to be supportive of her afterward so that she could have the necessary time and space to grieve.

We talked about the birth plans again and what each of our roles would be in each of the scenarios. We knew that the midwife would be back at 1:30am. It was 12:30. We set an alarm for one hour from then, and curled up in hospital sheets on chairs.

At 1:30 we went back up, checked on Meghan, and they had started the pitocin. It wasn’t in her original plan, but her epidural was slowing her contractions way, way down. Her pitocin started at the lowest amount possible. She was still relaxed and not feeling contractions. After a while, Meghan convinced me to go back to the lobby to get more sleep. I finally relaxed enough to get two hours of good sleep. I knew that the midwife would come back in around 5am so I went back up around then. Everyone was just waking up and the midwife came in to check Meghan again. Our nurse had been slowly upping the pitocin over the past few hours. When the midwife checked Meghan, Charlotte was still high and above the pubic bone, but still at 10cm. Everyone agreed that it was time to push this baby out.

Pushing this time was much different than it was the night before. It was so much less intense. Meghan wasn’t in pain, she wasn’t exhausted, and we were all feeling much better. But, baby still wasn’t budging. Liza, the midwife, was so, so encouraging. She was doing all she could to get Charlotte to come down under the pubic bone. We tried different positions, which was really hard to do while Meghan had an epidural. But we all worked as a fantastic team to support her. Everyone’s role was needed and important. We all found a way to come together to facilitate this birth: midwife, nurse, Meghan, me, Wes, and Mary Ellen. A new nurse was on shift now and once again, was the perfect fit for this new phase we were in. Finally, after a few hours of pushing and no descent, the midwife asked if she could invite an obstetrician in to check things out and give some input.

When the OB checked Meghan, she was very honest and open. She said that she thought there was plenty of room for baby to come down and out and that she surely would do that, but it was just taking a lot of time. She encouraged Meghan to keep pushing (both literally and figuratively). So, that’s what we did.

Sometime during this time, Meghan stopped feeling Charlotte move. Charlotte had been really active throughout the duration of the labor and then there was nothing. It’s not uncommon to not feel your baby move in late stages of labor, but since Charlotte had been moving for the last two days so much, Meghan started getting really worried. She wanted to meet her baby alive. But she knew it might not happen and she was starting to lose hope. In-between contractions, she would poke her belly and call Charlotte’s name and there was no movement in return. No one said definitively that they thought Charlotte was gone, but I could see it in everyone’s eyes.

When someone mentioned to me that it was Monday, I realized that I had no clue what day it was. We drove to the hospital on Saturday and I had completely lost track of time. I told them that I needed to leave to go cancel my plans that day. I was scheduled for an online training and had an appointment that day.

Back in the room, after about two more hours of pushing and absolutely no progress, we were all wearing thin again. We called the OB back in. She was not as hopeful this time. Meghan had been pushing for over 8 hours total over the course of the last day. We had been in this hospital for over 36 hours. She recommended a forceps delivery. She called in her supervising OB to confirm that this was the right course of action. It was unanimous. After asking a lot of questions and hearing about benefits and risks, Meghan finally made the hard decision to consent to a forceps delivery of her baby.

That’s when things started really picking up pace. People started entering the room and poor Meghan was still pushing with all of her might during every contraction just in case she could get Charlotte down under that bone before the OBs came back with forceps.

We had tried to retain the services of a Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep photographer to photograph the birth and Charlotte afterwards with her parents, but no one was available. So, another nurse on shift came with a camera to take photos. The midwife was still there, but stepped out of the way. Our nurse was still there for support. An entire NICU team came in to evaluate Charlotte immediately if she was born alive. It was in their birth plan that if Charlotte was born alive, they wanted absolutely no intervention or resuscitation–only comfort measures. In the super rare case (less than 1% chance according to the specialists) that she was born breathing on her own, with vigorous crying and no intervention necessary, she would be transported to Children’s National hospital in DC to figure out if medical treatment of her renal system issues was a possibility. So, the NICU doctors and nurses were there to evaluate what Charlotte’s condition was and then make a plan for either comfort care or transport. There was a Catholic priest waiting in the hallway to baptize Charlotte immediately after birth and give her Last Rites. Immediately surrounding Meghan was still me, Wes, and Mary Ellen. Then, the two OBs came back in the room as well with the forceps.

It was going to be over in a matter of minutes.

As the doctors talked Meghan through the process, they were calm and supportive. Everyone was waiting quietly. It was like time stood still. The moment was finally upon us. The doctors put the forceps on. The plan was that with the next contraction, Meghan would push with all of her might to assist them with pulling. They would use the forceps to pull Charlotte down under the pubic bone, take them off, and then assist Meghan with pushing her out the rest of the way. I had seen forceps deliveries in videos before and knew that it wasn’t always gentle and easy, so I encouraged Meghan and Wes to focus on each other and keep eye contact so that they wouldn’t have to watch the process. Every 30 seconds or so, Meghan would begin to cry and shake her head no (as she was clearly anticipating the birth), but it was our job to keep her focused and encourage her that it was almost over and she was strong enough to do this one last push. As we were waiting for the next contraction, the minutes went on and on. Meghan later told me that she believes the reason why her body couldn’t push Charlotte out and why that last contraction took a good 15 minutes to come was because she didn’t want to have to go through what was coming next. In the birth world, that’s sometimes referred to as emotional dystocia. And it’s so, so real.

I had the important job of holding Meghan’s leg up and holding her hand while she pushed. I told Wes, who was standing right beside me, that I would wait until baby came out and then get out of the way so that he could see better and get close to Meghan and Charlotte. He said “no, that’s okay.” I told him it was fine and that I would let them have the very first seconds together.

He held my arm and said “No. I want you here.” That was truly a defining moment for me and when I realized that my presence was necessary, appreciated, and worth every second. I’m crying just remembering how important I felt and how vulnerable I realized everyone was.

Finally, a contraction was starting. The OB told Meghan to push. She closed her eyes and pushed with every bit of energy she had. The OB pulled so hard that Meghan started scooting off the bed. I was pulling back against the pressure on Meghan’s leg and trying to keep her from sliding off the bed. It was only a few seconds before the OB was taking the forceps off. They encouraged Meghan to push hard one last time. Meghan pushed and I looked down. I had it in my mind that if I was able to see Charlotte first (especially if she was already gone, which I was pretty sure of at the time) that it wouldn’t hurt as bad to watch Meghan see her. I don’t know why. Charlotte’s head came out facing down. I told Meghan to reach down and get ready to grab her baby. As Charlotte’s body turned upward, Meghan was reaching for her, and the OB began to pull her out, one of her eyes popped right open. My jaw dropped. I was not expecting her to be alive. An immediate rush of dread and adrenaline filled every part of my body. The picture below is of our faces (Mary Ellen, me, and Wes) as Charlotte was placed into Meghan’s arms.

THE LOOKS ON OUR FACES THE MOMENT CHARLOTTE WAS BORN.

Then, the defining moment. Charlotte let out a huge, loud, and healthy scream.

The only word to describe what I did at that point was WAIL. We all did. Everyone in the room wailed. There was such a minuscule chance that Charlotte would ever cry. I backed up from the bed and all of the emotions of the last two weeks overwhelmed me. I leaned against the wall behind me, slid down to my knees, and just cried. I cried for Charlotte, who so clearly wanted to meet her parents; I cried for Meghan and Wes, who wanted nothing more than to meet their daughter alive; and I cried a release of emotions. It was so hard, but I forced myself to stand up, shake it off, and take some photos for them. Charlotte was on Meghan’s chest. She was alive and she was breathing. It was a complete shock. The head NICU doctor was observing closely, but respectfully allowing Meghan and Wes to meet their daughter.

As Charlotte started showing signs of difficult breathing, the doctor asked Meghan if it would be okay to take her to the warmer to check her out more closely. Meghan said yes. Wes cut the cord and Charlotte went to the warmer. The doctor was checking her heart rate, giving her some blow-by oxygen (as was indicated in their birth plan), and observing. Wes joined Charlotte and after checking on Meghan, I hopped over to take some photos. It was clear to me that she was struggling to regulate her breathing (more than the average newborn).

Before the birth, the NICU docs told us that it would be pretty obvious right away if Charlotte wasn’t going to be able to breathe on her own. But, in reality, it seemed a little more confusing. When Wes asked what her opinion was, the doctor said that she would like to do an x-ray to determine Charlotte’s lung development. It was already a shock that she was born alive and that her lungs were functioning at all, considering she was living in her mother’s uterus with almost no amniotic fluid for so long. They decided to go ahead with the x-ray and Wes could come along. If anything changed or if it looked like Charlotte was struggling too much, they would bring her back to Meghan to be in her arms.

But first, the priest came in to baptize Charlotte. It was a deeply emotional and spiritual moment that Meghan and Wes did not think would ever happen. Their Catholic faith is important to them, though, so their nurses were sure to have a local priest close by. How many babies do you know that were baptized at only 12 minutes old?!

THE CATHOLIC PRIEST BAPTIZES CHARLOTTE WHILE WES IS PRESENT.

They brought Charlotte to Meghan and Wes before the x-ray to get some good bonding time for a few minutes and take some photos. Then, Charlotte was put back in the warmer and Wes, Charlotte and the NICU team left to go to the NICU for the x-ray.

Just seconds after they left, Meghan said she didn’t feel well. She calmly and slowly laid her head to the side, closed her eyes, and stopped talking. Mary Ellen was beside her calling her name “Meghan. Meghan! Meghan, answer me!”, but Meghan showed no response. The nurse quickly took her blood pressure. It was 49/24. Things started moving quickly. They laid her bed down, hooked another bag of IV fluids up, and maybe a bag of medicine, I can’t honestly remember. All I remember was seeing the most postpartum blood loss that I’d ever seen at a birth and being scared. Meghan’s mom got out of the way of the nurses and came and stood with me on the other side of the room. I felt paralyzed. Mary Ellen finally told me to go talk to her. I think she was too scared to be over there. I got my wits about me, walked to Meghan, and said “Meghan. It’s Maria. I’m right here and I’m not leaving your side. You’re going to be okay.” I kept talking to her and I vividly remember softly brushing her bangs out of her eyes over and over.

After a few moments, she started making small movements with her head. Mary Ellen asked me to ask if she was okay. Before I even got the question out, Meghan said (in a somewhat annoyed way) “I’m fine.” That gave us all a good laugh. We knew she was going to be okay. That was my first and only to date experience with postpartum hemorrhage and going into shock. It was so scary. Meghan ended up receiving two blood transfusions after that.

During the next fifteen minutes or so, the OB who delivered Charlotte was repairing Meghan’s severe tear. Because Charlotte was born so quickly, and with forceps, she had some pretty severe damage that needed to be sewed by a surgeon. While that was happening, a nurse came into the room and asked for Maria. I identified myself and she said that they needed me in the NICU with Wes and Charlotte. I was so confused. I said “I’m the doula”. She said “I know.”

I was scared and confused, but moved quickly. I walked out of the Labor and Delivery room, through the hallways, and out of the doors of the unit. I was headed across the hall to the NICU when I saw Wes’ parents and Meghan’s dad jump up and run up to me. They asked what was going on. I told them I didn’t know but that they needed me in the NICU quickly.

Family: “Why the NICU?!”
Me: Because that’s where they are.
Family: Who?
Me: Wes and Charlotte.
Family: Charlotte is here?! Is she alive?! What’s going on!!!

It finally occurred to me that they hadn’t even been updated on the birth yet. So, I quickly told them that Charlotte was alive as far as I knew, that they took her for an x-ray, and that they asked me to come and I didn’t know why. So, I ran off but not before they asked how Meghan was. I was vague and said “she’s doing better”. I didn’t want to scare them about what had just happened.

When I went into the NICU, I found them quickly. Charlotte was laying in a warmer and Wes was changing her diaper. She had pooped twice already! He told me that her x-ray hadn’t gone so well, as her lungs were not developed normally, but that she seemed to be doing okay with the blow by oxygen. He needed to go speak with Meghan about whether or not to transport Charlotte to Children’s National, but didn’t want Charlotte to be alone. Even though no one was allowed in the NICU but immediate family, he convinced Charlotte’s doctor to let me stay with her so that she wasn’t alone. I told him I would keep her company. It was then that the emotions finally hit us and Wes and I shared a hug and cried.

He left to talk to Meghan and Charlotte’s doctor taught me how to hold Charlotte’s blow-by oxygen and to cup it around my hand against her nose if her oxygen saturation went below 80 (which it did a few times). For the next hour while Wes and Meghan were talking together, to their families, and to doctors, Charlotte and I were alone in the NICU room. I considered it to be a tremendous honor and responsibility to spend that time with Charlotte in her first few hours of life. I talked to her about how she was loved, how her birth was a roller-coaster, how her parents met, how we were all great friends, and about how my daughter Clara was so excited to meet her. When she would get fussy, I sang Baby Beluga over and over again to her, which usually seemed to calm her back down. She pooped again and I changed her diaper. I sang to her until she fell asleep and her breathing really regulated. She seemed calm and relaxed. I couldn’t believe that she looked like a normal baby. We were expecting many different facial features, possibly club feet, spinal malformation, etc. And that was only if she was born alive! But she had none of that. She was gorgeous. I got the overwhelming feeling and message from Charlotte that she wanted to be here and alive on Earth. I knew that she would be okay. Thinking about that still gives me chills.

After about an hour, Wes and the doctor came back to take her to Meghan’s room. We strolled through the hallways with Charlotte asleep in her rolling cradle, oxygen tank and all. We got back to Meghan, swaddled her up, and finally Meghan and her family got to meet and hold Charlotte in a calm and relaxed environment. It was lovely.

SKIN TO SKIN WITH MOMMY

After a little while, the NICU doctor came back in and told us that after sending the x-rays to Children’s and updating them about Charlotte’s condition, the specialists were very optimistic and wanted Charlotte transported immediately so that they could begin their own evaluations and care for her. Meghan and her family said goodbye to Wes and Charlotte and they left to get in an ambulance to make the trip to DC.

I stayed for a while with Meghan and her mom while we talked about how we couldn’t believe what had just happened. We were so happy, shocked, relieved, still scared for the future, and so, so grateful. After a while, Meghan told me to finally go home to my girls. It had been 45 hours since I had seen them, 50 hours since I had eaten anything of much substance, and 60 hours since I had slept (other than those tiny naps that totaled about 3.5 hours).

I gave Meghan and Mary Ellen the best hugs of my life, grabbed my bags, and headed home from what seemed like a surreal and very long experience. I was back in the sunlight after two days and walking to my car and just thanking God for Charlotte, for my friends, and for allowing me to be a part of that experience. I drove the two hours home with so much adrenaline, energy, and love. When I got home, my husband and daughters were outside in the August evening sun waiting for me. Inside, my husband had the house cleaned. We ate dinner together and I have never been more thankful for a dinner with my family. I slept really, really hard that night.

This birth CHANGED MY LIFE because:

I will never take my children’s health for granted again.
I realized that I treated Meghan differently than other clients since we were such great friends. Since then, I’ve found a way to connect with my other clients in a meaningful way during their births even though my clients aren’t always life-long friends first.
I am a much better doula. After supporting Meghan, Wes, and their family through such a long and overwhelming birth, I felt like I could do anything. I’ve supported some women with long and difficult births since and I feel so much more prepared, relaxed, and supportive.
My best friends turned into my family. We share something really, really special and sacred. I wouldn’t give that up for anything.
I learned that miracles happen.
I am so grateful for my husband and two daughters, because I’ve learned that not everyone has the privilege of bringing their healthy children home.
Charlotte changed my life. In that hour that I spent with her in the NICU, my brain was re-wired. I had never been in the immediate presence of a miracle. Let alone with such a connection that would be the beginning of my relationship with her.

Guess what? Stay tuned, because Part V will be coming at you soon. I’ll be sharing a special update from Meghan and Wes themselves on the journey that they’ve been on for the last five months.

UDATE:

We’re baaaaaack! After making you all sob and thank the stars for your healthy babies, we’re back one more time with Part V of The Birth That Changed My Life. And this time it’s extra special, because MEGHAN AND WES THEMSELVES will be filling you in on all that’s been going on in the last 7 months since Charlotte’s infamous birth. Enjoy!

It was two weeks before my due date. We had been to a doctor who specializes in high risk pregnancy for an ultrasound, and the results didn’t look good. To confirm the findings, we were sent to Children’s National Medical Center (CNMC) for an MRI. The better imaging could give us more insight into Charlotte’s condition.

After the MRI (which was the scariest thing ever – my anxiety had hit a new high) we were introduced to a team of doctors. They had reviewed the scans and confirmed the previous prognosis – Charlotte had no kidneys, and perhaps no bladder. We were told by the specialists that because of a lack of kidneys and therefore amniotic fluid, the likelihood of Charlotte’s lungs being developed enough to survive outside the womb was less than 5%. We were advised to start preparing for the death of our baby.

In the weeks before her birth, we mourned for our little unborn baby who was still thriving inside of me. We bought her a beautiful frilly dress to take what we assumed would be the only pictures we would have to remember her by. We made hand and footprint art with our hands and left places for Charlotte’s hands and feet next to ours. We even made a recording of her strong little heartbeat to put into a stuffed bear! I didn’t want to regret not capturing the memories of this amazingly strong baby that I had grown.

Despite being advised to induce labor, we decided to spend as much time as possible with Charlotte and let her determine when she would like to make her appearance. Two long, horribly emotional weeks later, she decided to make her debut.

If Charlotte was to have a chance of survival, her lungs would have to be developed. We could deal with kidney issues with dialysis, but her breathing was the main concern. We were told that if she cried at birth, there was a good chance that her lungs were developed.

After a long and emotional labor (see Part IV), Charlotte was born CRYING!! Surprisingly, she looked like a normal healthy baby! After evaluating her, the NICU doctors determined she had a pneumothorax (air outside of the lungs) causing her right lung to not expand correctly. We decided to give her some blow-by oxygen to keep her comfortable and to see if it would resolve on its own. Within two days, her breathing was perfectly normal!

Hours after Charlotte’s birth, she was on her way to CNMC with her Daddy as I lay in a hospital bed trying to recover from two blood transfusions, crazy blood pressures, an epidural, and Pitocin. Oh, and the fact that I just had my baby who was born alive and strong, and that she was not with me!

I think it was the next day…it’s all really just a blur, so it could have been two days later – not sure. I managed to get out of bed and shower without passing out, so the hospital staff decided I could be discharged to go see my baby! My parents, who were a great support and didn’t leave my side throughout all of this craziness (THANKS MOM AND DAD), drove me to CNMC and helped me get to the NICU to see Charlotte. She was amazing, beautiful, stunning, and ALIVE AND THRIVING! She looked just like her daddy!

At two weeks old Charlotte, went into surgery for her Peritoneal Dialysis Cather and Gastrostomy Tube to be placed. Handing my perfect little baby over to the nursesand knowing that she was going to come back with tubes coming out of her belly was the hardest thing I have ever done. I cried like a baby and wouldn’t let them take her from my arms untilthe last possible moment. I was a blubbering mess. Wes was amazing; he just held my hand and reassured me everything was going to be okay. This is what we had signed up for when Charlotte came out crying and showed us she was willing to fight for her life!

Charlotte came through surgery just fine, and the next day we were transferred out of the NICU to the Heart and Kidney Unit (HKU). We spent the next two weeks watching Charlotte heal and working to stabilize her electrolytes with many different medications and supplements. At that point we could all go home together for the first time!

For two weeks , we were told we would get to go home the next day. Then that day would come, and we would be told we couldn’t leave because Charlotte’s levels were not stable enough yet. It was stressful and disheartening. I had not been home in over a month at this point. I was living in the Ronald McDonald House and in her hospital room; it was the only home she knew, and it broke my heart.

Then the day finally came! We were being discharged to go home!!! It was September 3rd 2016: almost a month after Charlotte was born. It was a miracle. On our way home, Charlotte began spitting up. This had been happening on and off for about 3 days prior to us being discharged, so I really didn’t think much about it. The nurses and doctors didn’t really seem concerned.

When we arrived home, it was amazing and overwhelming all at the same time! My house was a wreck… I had to measure out and organize 12 different medications that were each given several times a day. I had to pump my breast milk, measure it out, and add a supplement to it. It would bind any potassium, and then we would pour off the remaining milk. At that point, we would add the other supplements at different times. The concoction was poured into her feeding pump, and every three hours we would repeat. I didn’t even have enough time that evening to cuddle my little baby.

When it was bedtime, I noticed Charlotte was very agitated and couldn’t get herself comfortable. She was grunting a lot. We tried to put her in the bassinet next to the bed, but she just couldn’t settle herself.

I took her into the living room so Wes could get some sleep. I put her in the swing, which seemed to settle her down a little bit. The next morning, Charlotte was still very uneasy and restless. Neither Charlotte nor I had gotten much sleep the night before, so I chalked it up to that. A little later that morning, I noticed Charlotte was breathing rather fast and bobbing her head up and down. I immediately knew something wasn’t right. I called my mom and sent her a video of what Charlotte was doing. We decided that I should probably call the Hospital just to make sure nothing was wrong.

When I called the nephrologist (Kidney Doctor) at CNMC, she told me to immediately take Charlotte to Peninsula Regional Medical Center (PRMC) to evaluate her. It sounded like she was in respiratory distress. Less than 24 hours after coming home, we rushed Charlotte back to a hospital. We were immediately admitted to the emergency department where they put Charlotte on some pressurized oxygen, and they called Children’s National to come get her.

A few hours later, Charlotte and I got to experience our very first Helicopter ride. I am not going to lie; it was beautiful, yet terrifying.

in the helicopter

baby charlotte is in there!

view from the helicopter

We were re admitted back into the NICU at CNMC. Charlotte was extremely fluid overloaded, and her lungs were filling. The Doctors’ main goal was to get fluid off of her without having to start dialysis. Her dialysis catheter, which could be used to remove the fluid, had only been healing for two and a half weeks. The nephrologists suggested we wait four whole weeks before using it. If you use the catheter too soon, the chances of the fluid leaking out of the exit site and introducing infection into the peritoneal cavity (the space around all of your organs) is very high. Most deaths from PD occur from this type of infection called Peritonitis.

Charlotte was put on diuretics to try to get her to urinate out the extra fluid. That night, Charlotte’s breathing was so bad that she turned white and blue. They had to assist with her breathing and intubate her. THIS WAS THE MOST TERRIFYING THING I HAVE EVER EXPERIENCED. I was sleeping next to her bed in a chair one minute, and then the next minute the room was filled with 20 doctors and nurses. My baby was not breathing well enough on her own to survive.

Wes and I were told we might want to step out while they place the breathing tube. We left the room, and all I did for the next few minutes (which felt like hours) was sob uncontrollably in the hallway. When we were told to come back into the room, my baby was cold to the touch and white as a ghost. WORST FEELING EVER!

Charlotte was attached to a ventilator for about a week. In that time, we had to start peritoneal dialysis (basically, the abdomen is filled with fluid and drained to extract extra fluid and toxins). At first, it was going great! The dialysis pulled a ton of extra fluid off of her lungs and allowed her to be weaned off of the breathing support. However, a few days later when I was changing her diaper, I noticed that the dressing which covered her belly button was wet. When placing her catheter and G-tube, the surgeon had entered through her belly button, which was still healing. I immediately showed the nurse, and we stopped dialysis. The nephrologists had never experienced leaking of the PD fluid from the umbilicus before, so this was new to everyone.

A few days later, Charlotte was diagnosed with her first round of Peritonitis, most likely because of the leak. Luckily, we caught the infection very early, and with lots of antibiotics they were able to clear it up!

Over the next few weeks, we stayed off of dialysis to allow her umbilicus to heal properly. The only downside to this was she became fluid overloaded another two times and struggled with breathing once again. Luckily, it was never as bad as the first time, and she only needed minimal respiratory support.

Finally, the 4 week mark of healing came around. Charlotte was now one and a half months old, and we tried to start dialysis very slowly with minimal fluid. We didn’t want to stretch her cavity too much and cause it to leak again. Well what do ya know… It leaked again, and she was on antibiotics… again…for potential peritonitis.

Third time’s the charm…right? A week later we tried dialysis, and there was NO LEAKING!!!!!! From this point on, Charlotte was on 24/7 dialysis. Her fill volumes were too low for a machine, so it had to be done manually. We remained in the NICU for another few weeks with one on one nurses. Their main responsibility was to fill and drain Charlotte’s dialysis fluid every single hour of the day.

I was with Charlotte at the hospital 24/7 watching over our nurses and making sure everything was done correctly. There was great risk of contamination and overfilling. As each new nurse came to watch Charlotte, I made sure they were doing things correctly. YES, I was that hover mom J .

We gradually increased the amount of fill over the next few weeks so that we could graduate to the cycler machine that does the dialysis on its own – no one on one nurse needed. I really couldn’t wait to get out of the NICU. When we reached the right amount of fill, we were transferred to the HKU where I spent the next two weeks with Charlotte. I learned how to use the cycler machine and how to take care of Charlotte on my own. We were so close to going home!

Wes drove into town to pick us up on November, 1st – It was finally time to head home! …for the second time… It was much easier than before. My house was only a semi-mess this time, and I only had 6 medications to deal with instead of 12! It was amazing to be home with Charlotte. Up until this point, I had only dreamed that this day would come. We were home, stable, and doing well!

Since November 1 2016, we have been home trying to figure out our new normal (like every new parent). Charlotte is doing well; she is growing and thriving beautifully. She currently is 7 months old, 26 inches long, and weighs 13.6 lbs. She is sitting up on her own, babbling, and has a very strong personality! Charlotte is not shy in telling you what she likes and dislikes. She is our little miracle baby, and we are so blessed to have her in our lives!

We are currently doing home Peritoneal Dialysis with Charlotte every night for 9 hours. Just call me Nurse Mommy. We will continue PD until she is eligible for a transplant: when she reaches 26 lbs.

Please join us or donate to “Team Charlotte” for the National Kidney Foundation’s Kidney Walk! The event takes place May 7, 2017 in Salisbury MD. 80 cents of every dollar donated goes to research, patient services, professional education, public health education, and community services. We would love to see all of you there to support Charlotte and the millions of others that suffer from Kidney disease! Even if you cannot join us for the walk, you can still help out by donating to our team: http://donate.kidney.org/site/TR/Walk/Maryland?team_id=203238&pg=team&fr_id=8621