And now my whole world has changed

Where to start? I guess we’ll pick up where I picked up on it–entirely too late.

I found out in early August that I was expecting. On the day that I learned, this, I was nearly 26 weeks along. But how could you not know? you may ask. Vicki Iovine opined that you’d have to be a complete moron not to know. How could you possibly misinterpret the morning sickness, dizziness, weight gain, fatigue, cravings, smell aversions, frequent peeing, and missed periods? (I read Mamapundit, ok? Even if I’d had ptyalism, I would’ve been tipped off to something.)

Suppose you don’t have any of those. If you’ve been on extremely effective birth control for over ten years and you don’t get periods anyway, in the absence of classic pregnancy symptoms, how would YOU know?

I’m a reasonable, intelligent woman. I take care of myself. I see my doctor regularly. My provider had actually required that I take a test prior to my January injection. (It was negative, and I’d had two shots since then, so believe me, I figured there was no chance.)

But then my dad came over to help me touch up some paint outside my house. We worked outside all day; that evening my feet and ankles were swollen. Like, really swollen. It wasn’t normal. I was about to make an appointment with a doctor for some GI issues that had cropped up recently, so in case s/he asked, I figured I’d just take a home test to rule it out. By now, you know the result.

My regular GYN was on maternity leave at that point so I got a referral to a different one. (This OB, it turns out, had just delivered my GYN’s baby.) I was so concerned for his well-being that my whole body shook the entire time I was on the ultrasound table. I hope the nurse knew enough of my story that she didn’t think I was nuts. Despite having had no prenatal care for seven months, my baby was healthy. Though still shell-shocked, I was extremely relieved.

I began telling people my news. (So did others–hear me now and believe me later: this is not news you should deliver for someone else.) I began taking prenatal vitamins, looking for and borrowing clothes for the last three months of pregnancy, and drinking tons of water. After Vicki had initially pissed me off, I picked up her book and started reading it again. Hey, at least it wasn’t like that tv show–at least I had three months to prepare. A friend of a friend (who is also a very reasonable, intelligent woman) had arrived at the hospital in labor last year without ever knowing she was pregnant, so at least I had notice.

Two weeks after my first doctor’s appointment (three weeks after learning the news at all), I went back for a follow-up ultrasound. They hadn’t gotten to see all the views they’d wanted to earlier. This time the tech hardly said a word. My sister picked up on this earlier than I did; I was just concentrating on trying to see the screen. (I’d had a stubborn migraine for three days and it was affecting my vision with this weird black dot.) My sister asked whether we’d be seeing the doctor that day or just having the ultrasound. Oh yes, she said quickly. We would see her.

We waited for about 45 minutes and then were called back. Dr. Awesome came in and explained that they weren’t satisfied with the baby’s growth in the past two weeks. She said that my amniotic fluid was low and that his Doppler readings weren’t great. She wanted to admit me for 24-hour observation. That was upsetting (and I cried), but I was glad to do whatever I needed to do.

By the time they wheeled me across the catwalk to the hospital and got me checked in, my blood pressure had skyrocketed. Women in my family always have somewhat low blood pressure, so at first we thought it was a mistake. My sister insisted that the nurse take hers so we could compare. But it wasn’t a mistake.

They wheeled me over to another ultrasound lab. This tech was quite a bit more chatty, but I don’t remember much of what she said or what I said. I’m usually pretty fearless but at that moment, I was scared.

Dr. Specialist met us at the door to my room when we got back. With no further ado, she said, “How long have you had a headache?” How did she know that, I wondered. I told her I’d had a migraine for three days. She said, “Does it feel like a normal migraine? Do you see a black dot?” I said no it didn’t and that yes, I did. “I don’t think you have a migraine at all. I think you have toxemia.”

You run across preeclampsia* and toxemia in pregnancy literature, but I hadn’t had time to do any research. By now the room was filling up with people: two nurses, Dr. Specialist, and Dr. Awesome had just arrived. (My sister was by my side, of course.) It quickly became clear that this was a Big Deal.

My family was summoned and assembled. Meanwhile my blood pressure continued to rise. A nurse escorted my family members out to the hall, one by one, and vehemently imposed upon them the importance of keeping me calm and quiet, as my blood pressure was putting me at risk for stroke or seizure. Dr. Specialist told me they were going to give me a steroid shot to try to mature the baby’s lungs quickly. She hoped we’d have enough time for two shots–a day apart–since by now I was only at 29 weeks. They also gave me an injection of magnesium sulfate to forestall any seizures. I didn’t cry during this part. I was in shock.

The problem with this particular complication is that there’s only so much you can do to manage it. The only cure is getting the placenta out. Until that happened, I was going to keep getting sicker. Finally Dr. Specialist and Dr. Awesome decided I needed an emergency c-section as soon as possible; we couldn’t wait. They wheeled me off to the operating room, again accompanied by my sister, who was at this point sporting a hospital gown over her suit and little booties over her high heels.

By now my face, hands, and the rest of my body were significantly swollen. They were a little concerned about getting the spinal block in the correct location because of the swelling. But they did, and from then until late the next day, I didn’t feel much from my sternum down. The actual operation was very quick. I was in and out and back in my room in 45 minutes total. The only man in the OR was my baby; both his team and my team were entirely comprised of women.

Though the neonatologist had warned me that he probably wouldn’t cry because he would be intubated almost immediately, he did cry. It was a tiny, mewling, sweet sound. But I couldn’t really see him all the way across the room and of course they whisked him away to NICU as quickly as they could. He and I weren’t reunited until about 36 hours later, since I was also in intensive care.

Just like that, I was a mommy. In the space of about three weeks.

* Preeclampsia and toxemia are interchangeable. It’s a fairly common complication with pregnancy, but it is a very serious and potentially life-threatening one. If the mother’s blood pressure rises too much, the flow of oxygen and nutrients to the baby is reduced. It can also lead to lots of other problems for both baby and mother; go Google it for more info.