Jessica’s Story Part 2: It’s Not Supposed to be this way
A week on bedrest had passed and it was now February 4th. This was the day that I would have my first fetal echocardiogram. After that, I would quickly check in with MFM to measure my cervix and return home to continue bed rest. The fetal echocardiogram took a while because they were trying to get specific pictures and Hudson was being active. Once she was done, we waited for the pediatric cardiologist to come to talk to us.
The cardiologist had a wonderful bedside manner. She explained the anatomy of the heart and talked about the aortic arch. The arch helps supply blood to the lower part of your body. From the images, it appeared that Hudson’s aortic arch was interrupted. This was accompanied by a VSD. She explained that there is a duct called a PDA that will close a few days after birth. It would be crucial that Hudson’s stayed open so that blood flow could continue to the lower part of his body. It would need to remain open until the surgery could be performed to fix the arch and patch the VSD. They would do this by administering a medication called prostaglandins.
“We see these two defects together almost always and I have seen many children with this defect go on to live full lives.” She told us. She spent at least 30 minutes talking to us, answering questions, and reassuring me that I didn’t cause the defect. She mentioned that children with heart defects are at higher risks for developmental delays and behavioral problems down the road but that early intervention would help with that.
“So for an official diagnosis, Interrupted Aortic Arch and VSD,” She finished.
After finishing our fetal echocardiogram, I made my way to my MFM appointment alone, as Jarrod wasn’t allowed to come back with me for this one. The doctor I had been seeing was out of town, so a different one came in as they checked my cervix.
“Hmm, okay, your cervix has shortened a bit more to 1.3cm and it looks like we’re picking up some contractions.” I just stared at her. I wasn’t feeling anything out of the ordinary. “I need to check your cervix to make sure it’s not opened up.”
My first thought was…what the FUCK, how has it shortened more and how is it possible that I could be going into labor without knowing it. I had done everything the doctors told me to do. She checked me and thankfully, it wasn’t open or dilated. ‘Okay, good, I can go home and just continue to rest’ I thought to myself.
“We need to admit you to get these contractions to stop, you’ll need to go down to labor and delivery right now.” She interrupted my thoughts. I was speechless. I had just sent my husband my lunch order because I was starving and now she was telling me I had to get admitted to the hospital. The next 5 hours were pure chaos. I had to meet up with Jarrod, make our way to Labor and Delivery (who weren’t aware I was coming), and sit in a triage room to monitor my contractions. We got to a labor and delivery room, got an IV in, started the fluid and magnesium drip, covid tested me, and put in a fucking foley catheter! Within an hour of fluids and magnesium, the contractions had settled. The doctors walked in to view the monitor and talk to me.
“We’re going to keep you on the magnesium drip for at least 24 hours.” This meant the foley catheter had to stay in…great!
“Okay, and then I can go home…?” I asked, genuinely thinking that this situation wasn’t that bad and they would just let me go home.
“Umm, we’ll want to monitor you for a bit after that just to be safe because you’re only 25 weeks. If contractions start again, we want to be able to try to stop it.”
It wasn’t until a neonatologist came by to talk to me that I finally realized the severity of this situation. He explained to me that babies born before 28 weeks had a lower chance of survival but after 28 weeks, it was much better outcomes due to the lungs being more developed. He then said “However, your baby also has a very serious heart defect, and if he is born this early, his chances of survival are quite low. I need you to be aware of this possibility but know that we will do everything we can for him.” While it was a little scary to hear, I needed honesty from him.
After 2 days on the magnesium drip, I was finally safe to be transferred out of labor and delivery to the antepartum unit. 3 days later, I was transferred to the hospital downtown due to having more contractions and being 1 cm dilated. This was the hospital I needed to deliver at because it was attached to the Children’s Hospital. They got the contractions to stop and wheeled me to the antepartum unit there. I cried when they wheeled me to my room. It was literally the size of a walk-in closet. There was a terrible recliner for Jarrod to sleep in and one very small window. I felt like I was in a prison cell.
Hudson at 27 weeks!
You can imagine, being in a small ass room with a terrible shower just how depressed you would get. I cried every day for the first week I was there. Some people may think ‘hey, you get to just lay in bed and watch Netflix all day.” Let me tell you, Netflix gets old really fast on bedrest. I was allowed to shower and go on one 15 minute wheelchair ride a day but for 22-23 hours out of the day, I was laying in bed.
I came to know the nurses and had my favorites. I knew the breakfast and lunch menu like the back of my hand within 2 weeks, along with the lady that delivered it to me daily. I talked the doctors into letting me work remotely, so I at least had something else to occupy my mind during the week. I had weekly ultrasounds, which meant lots of pictures of Hudson. There were no visitors allowed, except for Jarrod. Due to my case, they made an exception and allowed my mom to be a second designated visitor but she and Jarrod could not be with me at the same time. So, on weekends my mom would come and stay with me.
When I made it to 28 weeks, it was a big celebration. The doctors were so happy I made it that far, but they weren’t ready to let me go home just yet. “Let’s just focus on getting to 30 weeks now.” I knew what they were doing, having me focus on smaller goals so I didn’t drive myself crazy. I wanted to go home so bad, I missed my bed and my dog. The thought of spending the remainder of my pregnancy in the hospital was depressing. No maternity photos, no baby shower, nothing that I had envisioned. I would sit and sulk on not being able to have those things and then immediately feel guilty and selfish for feeling that way. It was a constant battle of emotions full of many breakdowns.
Two weeks later, I made it to 30 weeks! What an accomplishment! The doctors were thrilled and I got my hopes up that if I could make it to 34 weeks, they may let me go home. During my stay, I didn’t think about the heart defect much, it was just too much to process. My main focus was staying pregnant and I had done a good job of doing that.
I was one day shy of 31 weeks (March 12) when I woke up that had pains coming and going. I had not felt anything like this before and just thought my stomach was upset. When the pains didn’t subside, I got the nurses and doctors in my room at about 8:00 am. The doctor just so happened to be the same one that admitted me back on February 4th. She checked my cervix and looked at my nurse “she’s 5 cm dilated…”
Tears fell instantly. No, this can’t be it, it’s too early, it’s not time, I still have 9 weeks. Maybe they can stop it like they did last time…right??? The contractions became more frequent and more painful. They got an IV in, started the mag drip, did an ultrasound, and transferred me to labor and delivery. When I got to labor and delivery, I was in pain! Jarrod made it to the room just as they started the epidural. It worked rather quickly! I was feeling good and thought, okay, I can relax now because labor always takes a long time….. HA!
My nurse told me she was going to check me and then we would have a better timeline of things. She checked me and instantly looked concerned, “Oh my, she’s 10 cm and bulging, we need to get the doctor in here.” Jarrod looked at me and said, “it’s game time babe.” I didn’t even have time to process what the hell was going on. Suddenly, it seemed like 20 people were in my room. I pushed for about 10 minutes and at 10:27 am, Hudson Tolliver was born. He weighed 3lbs 5oz (1.5 kg). The NICU team quickly took over, and I could hear the faintest little cry. I got to hold him for about 3 minutes and then the NICU nurse looked at me and said “I’m sorry, we have to take him now.” I nodded, kissed my sweet boy, and handed him off.
I wouldn’t see Hudson again for 10 hours. In that time, I would do my first pumping session, answer texts, cry, and move to postpartum. At 8 pm, we finally got to walk over to the NICU. I walked into Hudson’s room and stared at him in his incubator. I had no idea that many wires and tubes could go on one little baby. I sat next to him and that is when the emotions really hit me. The whole day I had been on an adrenaline rush from everything that had happened. I hadn’t processed or prepared myself for what I was walking into. The strongest emotion was guilt. My baby should still be in my belly, not hooked to machines and on a ventilator. What the hell did I do wrong? Why did this happen? WHY MY CHILD?! How could I possibly be a good mother when I couldn’t even keep him in my belly protected.
The next two days were information overload. Hudson being premature complicated things a lot. He was too small to go into surgery to fix the defects. The important thing was for him to grow, keep a close eye on his heart and lung function, and try to get him off the ventilator. I put the very little energy I had into pumping and establishing my milk supply. It was the one thing I felt like I could do, as I sat there helplessly staring at my baby through a thick piece of glass. Two days after Hudson was born, I was discharged. I could have stayed at the Ronald McDonald House but it wasn’t recommended. I hadn’t been home in 6 weeks and needed to get some good rest in and “take care of myself, so I could take care of Hudson.” A week ago I was begging to go home, and now I would give anything to be back in the antepartum unit with Hudson still in my belly. Leaving that hospital without my baby was a pain I wouldn’t wish on anyone.
Those emotions only got worse in the upcoming days. The world continued moving forward while mine had completely crumbled around me. I had a flood of texts and calls coming in, checking on me and Hudson. I got to the point where I just didn’t answer. It was too exhausting to even have to think of a response to write and I didn’t have the energy. The first week, I wasn’t able to drive and my husband was working remotely so we would go up in the afternoons to see Hudson, get an update and go home at night. It was the weirdest thing, it was like ‘hey you had a baby, but you don’t get to take the baby home…instead he has to stay here. Oh and you don’t get to hold him just yet, and don’t stroke him, you need to do hand hugs so you don’t overstimulate him.’ Literally, I was being told how to touch my baby.
When I was at home, I would sit in a state of shock, unable to process what happened and what the future held. One day, all kinds of baby gifts showed up at my house. I just sat there and looked at them. I told my husband I wasn’t ready to open them, maybe the next day. Opening up baby shower gifts wasn’t supposed to feel this way. Frankly, none of this was how it was supposed to be. Why would I want to open up all these gifts that we may never get to use? Yes, my mind had gone that dark. Writing this now brings tears to my eyes to think of how much pain I was in.
It was clear that I couldn’t fight this on my own. It was also clear that Hudson was not leaving that hospital anytime soon. I won’t make you wait for part 3 to tell you that I did seek help that week. I knew I needed help so that I could be stronger for Hudson and be able to better handle the punches to the gut that would continue to come in the weeks ahead.
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