Survival Story

Only because I love the blogger lady over at Thorns Have Roses so much, I felt the need to contribute to her discussion. The first event that came to my mind was the birth of my son.

Now, every mother I've ever known has seen childbirth with a sense of apprehension. The welcoming of new life is an amazing feat- however the actual process can be anxiety raising to say the least. In my case, it was a trick I'd already done before. Which leads up to a little back story. I gave birth to my daughter on April 30th of 2009 after having been induced. When the midwife examined the placenta, she realized that she didn't have the whole thing. So, after having already stitched me up, she went back in and got the bit that was left (you continue to hemorrhage until it's ALL out) and all was jolly if a little sore. No huge trauma.

holding baby Erica

On to the main fun where I almost die and yet manage to pull through. On April 27th of 2010 I was induced into labor for my son Aaron. My husband and I made sure we let the new midwife know about my prior delivery, and I knuckled down to push out a baby. Just past 9pm, my son arrived. Unfortunately a ton of blood came with him. Following the passing of the placenta, the midwives added another bag to my IV and left to clean up the baby. I was extremely lethargic and dehydrated. Unfortunately, I was still hemorrhaging. I asked for the nurse several times, but she said everything seemed normal. Unfortunately I was continuing to dehydrate despite the IV, and my lethargy was getting to the point where I was passing out. The worst part had to be the cold though. To this day I remember that feeling. It was 75 degrees in the room, but I was under two heavy blankets and STILL shivering. Finally at 2am a midwife came in. There was a big issue. The amount of bleeding I was doing had worried her, and upon re-checking the placenta she discovered that there was some missing. I had to go in for surgery immediately. At this point, I still had not even been able to hold my son because of how weak I felt, and my cousin had to call my husband since he had returned home to get some sleep before work the next morning. By 2:30 my husband arrived, and they were wheeling me to the O.R.- I remember making a joking comment to my midwife that I felt dead tired. She responded not to say things like that. When I looked at her she was nearly as white as I had become. Then they put me under.

Upon finding out that Aaron weighed 8.09 lbs at birth

When I came to, I was in a recovery room. When they realized I was awake, they took my vitals and wheeled me back to the maternity room I'd given birth to Aaron in. I noticed I had a new IV as well. When someone finally told me what had gone on, they told me they'd barely had to sedate me because I'd lost somewhere around six units worth of blood. I had a blood transfusion over the next two days I received four units of blood. I finally got to hold my baby. My face was swollen from the amount of fluids and extra antibiotics that they had flowing through the tubes. But even the awkward feeling of the tubes couldn't take away the magic of getting to hold my baby- something I nearly didn't get to do. Unfortunately, there was more bad news yet to come. The midwife came back and informed my husband and I that they had to advise against me having any more children because it was pretty much definite that I would have the same issue again. At twenty years old, it was not something I wanted to hear. It took me two years to even begin to come to terms with it. And of course, even then it wasn't something I just accepted. I did my research. Retained placentas effect 2% of pregnancies (man I should be playing the lottery...) however, once you have a history with them, it becomes a pretty definite thing that you will have another one. On the other hand, even in developing countries retained placentas only carry a 10% mortality rate. In the United States, the odds are MUCH better. So a large portion of my issues can be chalked to negligence in the hospital. (Fun fact, upon doing some research Robert Packer Hospital in Sayre doesn't have a very good reputation...)

Holding my baby Aaron with ma swollen face

 But, here I sit telling you all about my adventure, and listening to my two and three year old argue about toys. So in the end, the shadow is but a passing thing.