My Birth Story.
My Birth Story.
The story behind The Birth Trauma Mama, told in Kayleigh’s own words.
Before You Read
This story contains detailed descriptions of a traumatic birth experience, including medical emergency, near-death, and the emotional aftermath. Please take care of yourself as you read. You can step away at any time.
Callahan’s Birth Story
WHY I SHARE THIS STORY
The heart of my work is rooted in my own story. After surviving an Amniotic Fluid Embolism, I experienced the trauma and isolation that so many survivors face. That experience became the catalyst for The Birth Trauma Mama: a space where survivors are met with validation and practical support instead of minimization.
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Part 1
Callahan’s birth story begins a few months after Steve and I were married. I always thought I wanted to wait a few years before trying to have children. Then we were married and I had baby fever. We started trying for a baby 5 months after our wedding. It was May and I got pregnant the first month we tried. I was so excited. It was the first week of June, the last week of the school year and I just found out I was pregnant. I downloaded all of the apps to see how my baby would grow over the next 9 months. I bought the “What to Expect When You’re Expecting” book. I was a little nervous because I felt like the line wasn’t super dark, but everywhere I read said a line means pregnant. Strength of lines on pregnancy tests do not relate to the viability of the pregnancy. I reminded myself of this anytime I was nervous. I called the doctor to schedule a blood draw to confirm the pregnancy. They drew blood a few days later and they called me to let me know I was pregnant but looked to be very early on in the pregnancy since my numbers were low. They suggested I return in 48 hours for another blood draw to confirm that the numbers were rising appropriately. I never made it to this appointment. I began to bleed the next day, and I kept bleeding for several days after. A week after I celebrated my pregnancy, I grieved the loss of it.
I read a lot about the high percentage of first pregnancies that end in early miscarriage or chemical pregnancy, as it’s often referred to. There are likely a lot of women who don’t realize they were even pregnant, if they aren’t obsessively testing like I was. I was sad about our loss but also excited for what the future could hold. I figured we would try again the next month and if we timed it right, we’d be pregnant again. Unfortunately, that was not the case. Over the next few months I became quite obsessive, especially during the “two week wait” periods. I would scour blogs and message boards trying to find symptoms that matched mine. Every little twinge or soreness I swore was something related to pregnancy. I was temping, I was tracking cycles, I was doing everything under the sun to try to get pregnant. June, July, and August all went by without any luck. I was beginning to feel like something was wrong with my cycles. My cycles were now irregular and something seemed off. I went to an OBGYN (a new one, since I had moved). She did some blood work and told me I wasn’t ovulating, so I would need to go to a fertility specialist. I remember getting into the car after that appointment and crying. I had gotten pregnant so easily that first month, and now I have fertility issues? It didn’t add up.
I went with Steve to our first fertility appointment. Overwhelmed is an understatement. They were great, but it was just so much information about all of the different things that could be wrong with us. To sum it up they said all of my numbers from the blood draw look great so they’re not sure why I wasn’t ovulating. However, before they put me on an ovulation drug they needed to rule out any other issues. This included a full blood panel the next time I got my period, testing for Steve, and a Hysterosalpingography (a test to see if my tubes were blocked). I had heard horror stories about the Hysterosalpingography and asked the doctor if it was actually necessary at this point, especially given that I had already been pregnant. He countered my argument by reminding me how infuriated I would be if we started the meds and nothing worked for months because the whole time I had a blockage. I agreed, but just felt like I knew by body well enough to know that wasn’t the issue. At this point Steve and I were so exhausted by the whole process that we decided to put trying to get pregnant on hold until after the testing came back. So, I waited to get my period because that’s when we could start the testing. I waited and waited, my cycles were super long at this point so I wasn’t surprised. But one morning I woke up and something in my brain told me to take a pregnancy test. I did and almost immediately 2 lines popped up. I was pregnant. I called the fertility clinic to let them know that I would not need my next appointment because I was pregnant. They told me they could actually follow my pregnancy for the first 9 weeks to perform some early blood tests and ultrasounds to make sure everything was on track. I excitedly accepted this plan. I went in for my first blood draw and found out that my hcg levels looked good. They wanted me to return in 48 hours to make sure they doubled. Later that day I started to bleed. I called Steve at work, crying telling him it was happening all over again. I continued to bleed a little the next day and then it abruptly stopped. There was a good amount of blood, but I thought maybe it could be the implantation bleeding I heard about through all my reading and research. My next blood test confirmed my numbers had more than doubled. It was implantation bleeding. Small note on this. No one ever mentioned that implantation bleeding can be more than spotting. Mine was a good amount of blood, definitely not my definition of “spotting,” but it did only last a day or two.
My first ultrasound was at 6 weeks and the doctor warned me that we likely wouldn’t be able to see/hear a heartbeat yet. They were just looking to see if the gestational sac was in the right place and was the right size. Thankfully it was and we were even able to see the heartbeat! I won’t bore you with a long description of my pregnancy, because for the most part it was pretty great. The only small hiccups were my low lying placenta (which moved out of the way), my positive CF carrier test, and my persistent feeling that the baby was HUGE. I tested positive as a CF carrier, so we then had to wait 2 weeks to get the results of my husband’s blood test back. It was the longest two weeks of my life, but thankfully it was negative. Once the 3rd trimester hit, I was SURE this baby was oversized, but at all of my appointments my clinicians assured me I was measuring right on track. As you can see by the picture, I was quite large, and this was a full month before I delivered. I credit staying active and my weekly chiropractor appointments with keeping me feeling great and super mobile even after gaining 70 pounds.
Part 2
Fast forward to my 39th week of pregnancy. It was July. I was gigantic, hot, and impatient. I wanted to meet my baby and I no longer wanted to be pregnant. I had a prenatal appointment on the 11th and I would be full term on the 13th. I was barely effaced and not dilated at all. I was so defeated. They wanted to see me back in the office on Monday. After a weekend of working on puzzles and eating gummy bears, I headed to my appointment on Monday morning. I was so incredibly anxious because I just wanted to have this baby already. Steve recalls me bouncing my leg so vigorously in the waiting room that he asked me what was wrong. When I was brought back, they took my blood pressure and, unsurprisingly, it was high (my blood pressure tends to fluctuate with my level of anxiety). When I told the doctor this, she said she would wait until the end of my appointment and take it again. It was elevated again. The protocol for 2 elevated blood pressures this late in pregnancy is to send me to the hospital. I started crying, the last thing I wanted was to be induced, and that’s where it looked like this was headed. My blood pressure did even out in the hospital, but we decided to go ahead with the induction since I was already there and past due with no signs of progress and a seemingly large baby.
July 15th
The induction process began with Cervadil, which needed to stay in for 12 hours (so overnight). At this point I was still pretty anxious about the delivery. Throughout my entire pregnancy I was terrified of hemorrhaging and dying. Everyone reassured me that hemorrhaging was rare and I was definitely not going to die. I remember counting all the women I knew who went in and had “normal” births and were back home with their baby within a day or two. This rationalization barely touched my anxiety, but I tried my best to put it to the back of my mind. I was so obsessed with my fear of hemorrhaging that I even wrote about it in the pregnancy journal during my second trimester (so creepy to see now!). My mom came to visit me in the hospital that night to give Steve a quick break to grab some food. When he came back we all played cards together, with me pausing each time a contraction came. My brother actually still has the napkin we kept score on! I barely slept that night because of the contractions and the constant vital checking.
July 16th
The next morning I was 70% effaced but still not dilated. At this point, I hadn’t eaten solid food since before I was admitted to the hospital. There was a bit of confusion about when the Pitocin was started and so they told me I wasn’t able to eat. Then we discovered I hadn’t actually been on Pitocin, so I could have been eating. I was apparently quite rageful about the lack of food. Thankfully, my doctor made sure I got a meal in before actually starting the Pitocin. That morning they inserted a Foley bulb balloon. I really regret not asking for an epidural prior to the Foley balloon. My contractions were now every 3 minutes, but I was okay tolerating the pain. Then, they started me on Pitocin and my contractions became more painful and only about a minute apart. I had difficulty tolerating these contractions because they were one on top of the other and I didn’t feel like I had a break at all. This lasted for a while and I was still only at 1 cm- talk about frustrated. I was so afraid of not progressing that I kept refusing the epidural and just trying to gut it out. Finally I had enough and asked for the epidural around 6pm that night. I was so relived when it began working. Later that evening, they pulled the Foley bulb balloon out and ruptured my membranes. I was anxious because I was growing increasingly exhausted and knew I still needed to push out a large baby as a first time mom. I was worried I wouldn’t have the energy to sustain hours of pushing.
Part 3
July 17th
By the next morning, I was at 7cm and by 11am I was at 9cm. The only issue was that Callahan was facing sunny side up which is a more difficult position to deliver, so they were attempting to get him to turn. At around 12:30 my OBGYN came in to check me and let me know I was 10 centimeters “ready to push!” I was definitely nervous about not having enough energy to push after laboring for so long and barely sleeping, but I was so excited to meet my little boy. The doctor left the room and said she would be back shortly to deliver my baby.
My bed was completely upright, so I was leaning against the back with my legs out straight. I told the nurse I wasn’t feeling well, which she said was normal during this stage of labor. As she went to go get me a bag I continued to say I didn’t feel well, but there was growing concern in my voice. I then started to say that something was wrong with my heart. The monitors weren’t registering anything, but I started shouting that something was wrong with my heart. The monitors picked it up, started to alert and then I was out. I slumped over in my bed with my eyes open but nothing behind them. My husband started yelling in my face to get me to wake up and then he ran into the hallway shouting for a doctor. At the same time, my nurse hit the code blue alarm, an alarm that very rarely gets pushed in L&D. People came flooding into the room, pushing Steve into the corner. By sheer luck there happened to be conference full of critical care personnel on the L&D floor that day. The quick (and life-saving!) decision was made to take me right to the OR. I was hurriedly disconnecting from every wire and IV as they wheeled me down the hall, leaving Steve back in the room. Steve was left to wait in my room alone until two nurses came to sit with him. There were nurses and techs in the hallway pointing the way to my OR so that the necessary people could get there as quickly as possible.
Once in the OR, CPR was initiated and they began an emergency c-section. The baby was out within 6 minutes of my code, which saved his life. It was a miracle that he came out crying and was somehow unaffected by my collapse. Once the baby was out, the attention turned towards me. I was dying. They successfully resuscitated me after the c-section, but I coded again a few minutes later. After the second resuscitation, I began to bleed and A LOT. I went into what is called DIC, which is when your blood no longer clots. They inserted a balloon into my uterus to try to stem the bleeding from that location.
The OBGYN came to update my family. She told them the baby was out and he was completely healthy, even though I had coded while he was still inside. She explained that I, unfortunately, was not okay, I had suffered an Amniotic Fluid Embolism. She said they were giving me clotting fluids for the DIC and that I was in critical condition, but she was hopeful they could stabilize me.
Twenty minutes later things took a turn for the worst. The OBGYN updated that it was extremely critical because they could no longer stop the bleeding and asked my family to please pray. I was bleeding from everywhere and there was no way to stop it. Massive transfusion protocol had been initiated, but the blood was pouring out as fast as it was going in (I ended up with a total of 143 units of blood product transfused by the end of this ordeal). More than 5 Liters of blood were collected through the catheter attached to the balloon that was attempting to stop the bleeding from my uterus. I was also struggling with oxygenation because my heart and lungs weren’t working at full capacity. The decision was made to put me on ECMO (a form of life support).
Part 4
July 17th
Around 3pm they took me from the OR to Interventional Radiology where they attempted to embolize my uterine arteries in hopes of slowing the blood loss from my uterus. As they were taking me to IR they noticed my abdomen had become significantly distended and decided they would have to take me to the OR after and open me up for an exploratory laparotomy. The bleeding had started to slow after this procedure, but not enough.
Meanwhile, my family was brought to a conference room so that they could be closer to where I was in the OR. When they got there (around 4pm), a few people urged Steve to go see the baby but he didn’t want to leave the location where he could be closest to me. Eventually, he agreed that he needed to be the first one to hold our son, so he went up to see Callahan with his mom and my mom. The pictures from their first time meeting bring up so many emotions for the me. They are heart wrenching. My OBGYN again came to update them. She asked for my husband to sign for the Ex Lap and possible hysterectomy. At that point, he didn’t care what they had to do, as long as they saved me. He signed the paperwork.
Around 6pm that night they took me in for the exploratory laparotomy. When they opened me up they found 4 liters of blood in my abdomen. They decided that they needed to do a hysterectomy because there was still too much bleeding. They removed my uterus and one of my ovaries/fallopian tubes. They packed my entire pelvic cavity with surgical sponges and quick clot combat gauze to help with bleeding. They then left my abdomen open with a wound vac in place because they knew they would need to go back in several times to clear clotting and possibly restitch some areas.
They updated my family that they had to perform the hysterectomy but that they were able to save one of my ovaries so that I would not go into early menopause.
Around 8pm one of my trauma surgeons spoke to my family. He explained what happened during the surgery and the way he had to pack my abdomen and leave it partially open. He told my family that he’d done 2 tours with the army and that this was the worst trauma he’d seen outside of war. He had to pack me like a war victim. He told them I was begin transferred to Lankenau Medical Center so they could maintain the ECMO circuit. Paoli was a Trauma 2 hospital, which meant they had enough blood for me, but they weren’t equipped for ECMO. Lankenau is a Trauma 1 facility. Thankfully the 2 hospitals are still in the same hospital system, so transfer of care was seamless.
They told my family they could see me before I was transferred to Lankenau. The doctors warned them that I would not look like myself. I was even larger and more swollen than when I was pregnant due to quantities of fluid and blood product. After waiting for about an hour while the 20 or so medical professionals readied me to travel, my family saw me for the first time since I had collapsed. It was difficult to see my face because of all the tubes coming from my nose and mouth. Steve was the first one to see me. He walked right up to the gurney, which was surrounded by about 20 nurses and doctors. Steve told me what a good job I had done keeping Cal safe. He let me know how big he was and that he was doing so well up in the NICU. My family told me there wasn’t a dry eye around that gurney when Steve was telling me about Cal. The rest of my family told me how much they loved me and to keep fighting. I was off on the ambulance to be transferred and my family rushed around to complete all of the tasks they has divvied up while waiting to see me. Steve, his sister, my mom, and my brother would follow the ambulance straight to the hospital. My dad would stay with Callahan (he couldn’t be transferred with me yet). Simone would go to Target to get clothes/toiletries for Steve. Steve’s mom would go home to take care of the dogs and Jessi would take my car home until she came to Lankenau the next day.
My husband meeting our son for the first time, while they were doing everything to save my life.
Bonus: Three Perspectives
During my initial collapse on the 17th, everyone has their individual perspectives because they were all in different places. The timing of my AFE made it so that people were preparing to meet the baby, so they were already at the hospital or on their way there. The following are the perspectives of my husband, my parents, and my best friend. These memories are so important to me because I wasn’t there to have any for myself.
My Parents
My parents came to the hospital on Wednesday morning to prepare to see their first grandchild born. Steve and I were exhausted and becoming increasingly anxious about how we were going to get through this. We had planned to just have the two of us in the room during the birth, but Steve changed his mind that morning. We decided we needed another support person so we asked my mom to stay for the birth. She left the room when I was getting checked to tell my dad that she was going to stay for the birth. As she was about the leave the waiting room to come back to walk back to my room, they both heard “Rapid Response Room 230.” They knew it was my room and my mom began to panic, but my dad said it could be anything don’t worry yet. At the same time my dad thought he heard Steve’s voice yell down the hall for a doctor, but my mom was sure it wasn’t Steve. Then, “Code Blue, Room 230” rang over the loud speaker and chaos ensued. My mom tried to step out into the hallway to get to my room just as a herd of medical personnel ran by, but they wouldn’t let her back. She told them “you don’t understand that’s my baby girl.” What felt like an eternity later, they let my mom back into my room where Steve was saying over and over again, “please just save my wife, please just save my wife.” My dad stayed in the waiting room because he knew my brother and sister-in-law were about to arrive. My mom asked Steve what happened, but at this point he still didn’t know. Eventually my dad came back to the room. Followed by my brother and sister-in-law. When the doctor gave the second update that I was extremely critical and they needed to pray, the room lost it. Everyone was crying. They were sure this was it. This was going to be the day they lost me.
Steve
Steve and I had just decided that we were going to ask my mom to be in the room during the birth. Steve was so incredibly anxious that he admits (now) that he didn’t even want to be in the room with me. He thought it would be helpful to have another support person there for me, since he was struggling too. She happily accepted and went to tell my dad. My OBGYN checked me and let me know I was 10cm and that we we’re going to have a baby today. She left the room and moments later I said I wasn’t feeling right. The nurse handed Steve a puke bag to hold for me because she said sometimes people throw up. While he was holding the puke bag, I started yelling my heart didn’t feel right. Because nothing registered on the machine, Steve was assuming it was just my anxiety. But when my eyes rolled to the back of my head and I slumped over he knew something very bad was happening. When he wasn’t able to wake me up, he sprinted to the hallway to yell for a doctor. The nurse hit the code blue alarm and people came streaming into the room pushing Steve to the back corner. He just remembers pure chaos. He heard someone yell do we have a pulse, but doesn’t remember the reply. Then someone said we’re going to OR 1, but someone replied no OR 1 is booked, head to OR 2. They proceeded to rip lines and cords out of the wall and unlock my bed. The room emptied just as quickly as it had filled. At this point, Steve was still in shock and just stared at the door. Soon after, 2 nurses came in to reassure him that they were going to do everything they could to try to save my life. My mom arrived at the room just before the social worker and chaplain arrived. She was frantically asking Steve what happened. He told her he had no idea but described my collapse. My dad and Steve’s mom eventually got back to the room. Steve couldn’t stop replaying the scene in his head trying to make sense of pieces that didn’t fit together. What had just happened? Is my wife dying? He started to think about what life was going to be like as a single father. How was he going to afford to raise a kid on his own?
The OBGYN came into the room and said the baby was out and fine but that I wouldn’t stop bleeding, they were trying to stop it. She rushed back to the OR. My family was told told they were not allowed to leave the room (we found out later no one on the L&D floor was allowed out of their rooms, so they could keep the hallways clear for me). Steve remembers hearing people running up and down the halls and urgent muffled voices behind closed doors. The chaplain and social worker came back into the room and asked for Steve to come with them. They took him down the hallway to a tiny room. There was one chair in the middle of the room. Steve sat down with the chaplain and social worker on either side of him. Steve was preparing himself for them to tell him I was dead. My OBGYN came in and Steve remembers her being covered in blood, but isn’t sure if that was actually the case or he imagined it. The doctor told Steve I suffered an Amniotic Fluid Embolism. He doesn’t remember any of the conversation after that.
The doctor returned to let them know it was extremely critical and that they needed to pray. Steve remembers thinking “just go save her, go save my wife.”
Jessi
Jessi wrote me her perception of events a while ago, so I’ve included an excerpt of her own words here.
“That Wednesday morning, Steve called me while I was in the gym. It was almost time he said. Your body had recognized that it was going into labor and your cervix continued to dilate on its own overnight. You were at 8 centimeters and would be pushing in the next couple of hours. “I think she’d like you to come,” Steve said. “She’ll want to know you’re close by.” I called Michael and told him I was going to the hospital to see you and the baby. I gave him the option of coming or waiting for us to go together the next day after Callahan would have already been there. “I’ll drive you,” he said, – thank God, looking back now.
We arrived to the hospital and pulled into the parking garage – right before 1 o’clock. I remember laughing and smiling together, excited to see you and Cal. We made our way through the hospital and up to maternity. Turning into the maternity waiting room, my brain took three beats to recognize your dad, slumped forward in his chair, and a woman I didn’t recognize sitting in the chair beside him. He saw me and immediately his face crumpled. “It’s not okay, it’s not okay,” he said. He stood and hugged me hard, as I tried to piece together what was happening. “Kayleigh and the baby, we don’t know, we don’t know.”
We sat there. Michael on my left, holding my hand or rubbing my arm, me putting my hand on your dad’s back ever so often. Eventually, someone came to take your dad back to be with your mom, i think the chaplain, maybe. She told us that the baby was out and okay, but you were not. Kyle and Simone arrived not long after, much like we had, with smiles on their faces, food and coffee that would sit on the table and eventually be thrown out hours later. “The baby is okay, but we don’t know about Kayleigh yet,” is all I could clumsily tell them. Kyle fell into a waiting room chair, I remember his hair falling over across his face, head in hands, as he rocked back and forth.
At 2:03, you’d been diagnosed, but things still looked okay. Kyle and Simone got taken back to be with your mom and dad and Michael and I stayed in the waiting room. It was so difficult to sit there, not knowing what was happening, and every text from Simone was a godsend. My mom offered to come and I told her she didn’t need to, but when I got the notification on my phone that their garage door had opened, I knew that she was on her way anyway. Within 20 minutes, you were hemmoraghing and the doctors couldn’t stop your body from bleeding. I sat facing out of the waiting room, right outside the double doors, watching people in OR scrubs, running back and forth. “Please pray,” Simone’s text read. I continued to watch them run in an out of those double doors, running to save your life. “Run faster, run faster,” I desperately willed them, finally realizing that you might not live. But what will I do I remember thinking. Who will I talk to who understands what I’m saying. How could my world exist without her in it. Steve and Cal might not have her. My mom got there at some point and she and Michael held me up from both sides, reminding me how strong you were. We prayed at some point, just as we had done with Kyle and Simone earlier. The four of us had held hands and said the our father before they were taken back. I bargained with Nan, trying my best to convince her that she was not allowed to let you into heaven that day. Cal needs her, Steve needs her, I need her, I begged.
For an hour and forty minutes I didn’t know that you were going to live. People came in and out of the waiting room. Some tried to talk to us. I vaguely remember a set of grandparents and a newborn’s older sister coming to visit her new baby sibling. Can’t you see I don’t want to talk to you, I remember thinking. People would come up to the doors to go inside and look in, startled to see tears and sadness. Keep walking, don’t look at me I thought. A doctor came in with her white coat on and asked if we were there for you. “It doesn’t look good,” she said, then asking if we were family. “I’m her best friend,” I told her. “Unfortunately I can’t tell you anything,” she said, with a pitying look on her face. “It’s touch and go,” she finally admitted. “How much touch and how much go?”, my mom pressed, looking at my face. She grimaced and with an uncomfortable shrug said, “I mean, there’s a very small chance she could make it.”
Finally, around four o’clock there was news that the bleeding was slowing.
I wrote you this in a note…
‘ Kayleigh, If you don’t pull it together I’m going to be so so angry at you. Do you know how terrible it is to sit in a hospital all day thinking JUST DO YOUR JOB AND FIX HER. Also, I’m mad that of course you were right about the bleeding.’ “
Part 5
Once at Lankenau Medical Center, it took them a few hours to get my settled into my room in the CTICU because I had so many machines attached to me.
July 18th
Around 3am the next morning, my Cardiologist came to speak to Steve and my mom. ECMO was keeping me oxygenated, and therefore alive, but they were having trouble getting my heart to start pumping strong enough again. They had already tried a few different drugs with no success. They told my family that they were going to try an Impella Device. They basically insert a tiny windmill-like device into your femoral artery up into your heart. The hope is that it will expel the blood from the left ventricle and allow the heart to start pumping strongly again. The doctors were clear that this was pretty much a last ditch effort. If this didn’t work my heart would clot and I wouldn’t make it.
Thankfully, it worked! After the Impella Device was inserted, I was taken to the OR again for another exploratory laparotomy and abdominal washout. They cleaned up the abdominal area, re-stiched some previous incisions, and re-packed me. They, again, left me partially open so they could go back in. The idea was to continue going back in to make sure the bleeding was still slowed and to clean the area since my stat c-section was unable to be done under the most sterile of conditions. At this point my neurological functioning was still TBD. They were attempting to keep my temperature down to heed off any neurological complications, but they needed to start warming me back up so my heart and clotting would hopefully return to normal.
Later that day, my team updated my family to let them know that my heart was starting to eject and that they felt like the Impella was working. The goal was to give me time to rest and they would run a few tests to check on any possible heart damage as well as brain activity.
The best moment of the day: Cal was transferred from Paoli to be with me. We met for the first time, even though I was unconscious.
That night, I opened my eyes, felt all of my tubes, and also moved my leg.
The first time I met my son. More than twenty-four hours after he was born.
July 19th
The next morning, I was brought into the OR for another exploratory laparotomy and abdominal washout. Again, they cleaned up the abdominal area, re-stiched some previous incisions, and re-packed me. They were able to close me a little more this time, but still left the incision partially open to go back in the next day.
My heart was finally doing it’s job again and looked great. They were hoping to downgrade my ECMO support to just lungs. When they took me back to test the functioning with the ECMO support clamped off, they realized my lungs were doing pretty well with just the vent, so they were able to take me completely off of ECMO just 2 days after the support had been initiated. They originally thought I would be on ECMO for a week or two.
Part 6
July 20th
The morning of the 20th, I was taken back for my final ex lap and abdominal washout. They were able to close completely.
At 9pm that evening, they decided they wanted to try to take the ventilator out. I was brought out of sedation and immediately terrified. I tried to pull the tube. I started to hyperventilate. They said they needed me to calmly breathe over the vent for 40 minutes before they would pull it. Imagine waking up in the CTICU with a tube down your throat and remembering nothing except for being at the end of your pregnancy. It wasn’t looking like I was going to stay calm enough for them to take it out. Then my best friend decided that this needed to happen tonight. I needed to get off this vent. She came to my bedside put her hand on my forehead, while holding my other hand and spoke softly to me. Every time she tried to take her hand off my head, I hyperventilated. She stood there, after barely sleeping for 3 nights and willed me off that ventilator. I was taken off the vent that night and switched over to nasal oxygen. It took me a while to catch my breath and I needed lots of oxygen plus some steroid treatments to help open my airways. Now that the vent was out, I didn’t need to be kept as sedated, but that meant I was more aware of what was going on around me and as a result, absolutely terrified.
July 21st
I held my son for the first time while conscious. I unfortunately don’t remember this, but we have a video. I asked if he looked like a fish and whether or not he was a mutant, like X-Men. I had a weird obsession with water and asked my mom if she remembered when we were in the water together and how weird that was. I then began to question what had happened to me. My family decided to tell me it was a c-section, until they could come with a better plan of how to tell me what actually happened. One of my favorite stories from this time is when I would look around and ask Steve if everything was okay. He would, of course, say yes and I would look around and ask “are you sure, seems pretty fucked up.”
The first time I held my son while “conscious”. Five days after his birth.
July 22nd
This was the day I finally found out what happened to me. My family couldn’t decide who would tell me and what they would include. No one felt qualified to explain what happened, but they also didn’t feel like they had a choice. As they were discussing it, my OBGYN and anesthesiologist from Paoli showed up to visit me. My OBGYN offered to explain what happened to me. This is actually my first memory. I remember she was at my bedside holding my hand to the right of my head and my anesthesiologist was on my left side, down near my hip, holding my hand. I remember her telling me that I had an AFE. I remember mostly holding it together and nodding thinking it finally made sense given where I was and all of my tubes and lines. Then, she told me I needed a hysterectomy, and I started to cry. She was so patient with explaining everything I wanted to know. After they left, I rested for a while and then started to ask my family a million questions. Later that day I was finally able to drink fluids. Unfortunately, I went a little crazy with the drinking because of my dry mouth and threw up massive amounts that night. I proceeded to tell everyone that it was the most traumatic thing I’d been through. To which they rolled their eyes and reminded me of my son’s birth, 5 days prior.
Part 7
First time in a chair- headed down to the Cardiac ICU.
July 23rd
The epidural came out today (they left it in this whole time for pain management). The plan was to move me from the CTICU to the surgical ICU, but the surgical ICU wasn’t open and they didn’t want to open it for one patient. I was instead moved to the Cardiac ICU. That evening I got out of bed for the first time and was able to pivot to the chair. I was in a lot of pain, but his was a huge step for me!
In the middle of the night I had an abnormal heart rhythm. It just felt like a palpitation to me, which I’ve experienced intermittently before even being pregnant. Everything up until this point had felt like progress forward. This was my first set back. Someone immediately came into the room and they put large AED pads on me incase they needed to shock my heart back into rhythm (cue the tears). I was a hot mess. The anxiety I was already experiencing skyrocketed and I was unable to sleep the rest of the night.
July 24th
That morning they reran an EKG, x-ray, and blood work to check on my heart functioning. Everything came back normal. Unfortunately, I had my first run in with an unhelpful physician after this event. A heart rhythm doctor was called to consult because of the abnormal rhythm. When I told him that I had experienced these palpitations in the past usually associated with anxiety, he told me to “please stop calling this anxiety” and then proceeded to say he wouldn’t tell me what it was because then I would google it and scare myself. Needless to say I asked to never speak to that doctor again. Thankfully, my wonderful cardiologist came to check on me and let me know that everything seemed fine and that there are a lot of things that can cause what I experienced, lack of sleep, stress, my low potassium/magnesium numbers etc.
July 25th
I was able to start solid food, which I was so pumped about! It had been over a week since my last food. However, when I tried to eat, I had no appetite and everything tasted like cardboard, even the bagel and cream cheese I craved all pregnancy. Apparently, this is common for abdominal surgery, but I was definitely disappointed. The only thing that sounded good was cereal with milk. I had to force myself to eat the rest of the hospital stay and for a few weeks after discharge. Thankfully my appetite did eventually return.
My anxiety was still very high and I needed someone to sleep in my room with me every night in order to even get 3 hours of sleep. Poor Steve had been sleeping over every night and was absolutely wrecked. We forced Steve to stay at the hotel and had my mom sleep over that night. I remember listening to music so that I didn’t have to hear the sounds of the ICU. Our wedding song came on and I balled my eyes out thinking about how lucky I was to still be here. I just couldn’t believe I had made it through what everyone was telling me happened.
That night, soon after I finally fell asleep, I woke up feeling like I was drowning. I was coughing and sounding like I was choking. I was absolutely fine and have no idea what I was dreaming about except that I felt like I was drowning.
With the bagel I hated and the AED pads on my chest.
Part 8
On my way to see Cal at his nursery for the first time (instead of him coming down to see me)!
Things were continuing to improve. My WBC count was trending down, but still high so they needed to keep an eye on it. My heart was looking great. That morning I was able to walk without the walker and then that evening I was walking up and down stairs. No one really understands how this progressed so quickly. I just remember feeling like I wasn’t in pain anymore and at this point I was mostly just on Tylenol for pain, Dilauded when it got worse, usually at night. It felt good to be out of bed and walking so I continued to do it. At this point I was feeling so over being in the hospital, I just wanted to go home. My wonderful nurse could tell I was starting to lose it, so she suggested that I take a walk outside since I was able to be disconnected from the heart monitor for a little bit each day. The first time I went outside, even though it was in the middle of a heat wave, was magical. The ICU air was so dry for me, I actually had to start using a mouth rinse to keep my mouth moist when I came off the vent. Feeling the sun on my skin was the medicine my soul needed.
Enjoying some outside time after my first shower in almost 2 weeks!
Part 9
July 28th
My ability to sleep continued to be terrible. The biggest issue for me besides trying to sleep in an ICU, was that I couldn’t turn to my side to sleep because of the pain it would cause to my abdomen. I was also terrified to sleep for fear I wouldn’t wake up. I vividly remember dreading the night. I would become increasingly anxious as I watched the clock tick towards dinner time. I had visitors in and out all day long (including my favorite little boy!) to keep me occupied and distracted. If I was lucky enough to fall asleep for a few hours, I was always woken up in the early hours of the morning for a blood draw. Then I would just stare around the room, hoping whoever was with me, Steve or my mom, would hurry up and wake up already! I was desperate not to be left with my own thoughts.
We were able to celebrate my mother-in-law’s birthday in the hospital courtyard and I was able to see my dog, Dax! I remember being so excited to have these small reprieves from the ICU, but also by the time I got to the location I was already exhausted and wanting to go back to bed. It was so frustrating.
Celebrating MoMo’s birthday in the hospital courtyard.
July 29th
Everything was looking like I would be discharged today. My WBC count was almost back within normal range, my last echo of my heart looked good, I was walking on my own all the way down to the courtyard without a wheel chair. I was so disappointed when we approached dinner time and I still hadn’t been discharged. My big accomplishment was that I showered mostly on my own with just a little help from the nurse. It had been decided that I would be able to be discharged to home without going to rehab. I was capable of taking care of myself and we would have a lot of help taking care of Cal.
One of my trauma surgeons from Paoli came to visit me. She was thrilled to see me walking and talking, considering where she had seen me just 2 weeks prior.
July 30th
My WBC was basically back to normal and they had figured out an anticoagulation med in pill form to put me on so that I didn’t have to do daily injections like I had been receiving in the hospital. I needed to stay on them for a few months while the blood clots in my groin, from the ECMO placement, dissolved.
I was finally discharged that day, along with Cal. I was overcome with emotions when I got in our car that day with our perfect baby boy. The ride home was painful with every bump, but I didn’t even care because I was so excited to get home.
That night, I figured out a way to prop my stomach with pillows so it didn’t hurt to sleep on my side. I slept for 14 hours straight. Over the course of the next month, I had daily nurse visits to pack my incision which didn’t close completely.
There is so much trauma and emotion that comes from not being able to see the birth of your baby, not meeting your baby for several days, and then not being able to take care of your own baby for months. That’s a topic I’ll save for future posts.
For now, I am grateful my son and I are both alive and well. As long as that is the case, I will continue to fight for moms who aren’t as lucky. I will continue to fight through the hard days. I will continue to survive.
If you are looking to learn more about Amniotic Fluid Embolisms, the rare complication I experienced with the birth of my son, please visit AFEsupport.org.
Tears of happiness that we’re finally headed home!