The Pregnancy

For those of you who know me well, you should know by now that nothing in my life has ever been easy.  I've had to overcome plenty of obstacles, and I've always been proud of how I've handled things for the most part.  The jury is still out on this obstacle though...and only time will tell how I handle it.

Becoming pregnant was no exception.  I won't get into all of the details, but it was no easy task for Doug and I to become pregnant.  I was diagnosed with unexplained PCOS shortly after Doug and I got married and started trying.  We went to many appointments and tried various treatments to alleviate the PCOS obstacle.  Finally in September of 2012, we found out we were pregnant.  We were down in GA visiting some of our favorite people - Aunt Jeannette and Uncle Steve.  It was surreal.  We couldn't believe that something had finally gone our way. 

Then on October 12th, I had severe cramping.  I assumed it was fairly normal and dealt with the pain.  After all, UVA's homecoming football game was the next day, and I'd go to that no matter how I was feeling.  On the way up to Charlottesville, the pain became unbearable.  Instead of going to the game, we diverted to the hospital in Charlottesville.  I spent the afternoon in the hospital being told I was possibly miscarrying at about 6 weeks pregnant.  The diagnoses was confirmed the following Tuesday by my doctor.  I had lost the pregnancy.  This was devastating enough and I thought my world was ending then.  Our doctor tried to console us and tell us that it was a good sign that I could at least get pregnant - but that didn't seem to make it any easier.  I cried for several days, and dealt with it, and we decided to move forward and keep trying.  After all, something had to eventually go our way, right? 

It took us several more months of different treatments and let downs.  Then finally, on July 16th, 2013 we found out we were pregnant again with our Ellison.  When I heard the news, I almost didn't believe it.  I was apprehensive that we would miscarry again, yet excited that we had gotten such good news.  Shortly after we found out, we spent a family vacation in Holden Beach, NC and it was refreshing.  I remember thinking that I couldn't wait to share these beach memories with our little one the following summer.  When we returned and went to our first appointment around 7 weeks pregnant, I saw the little blob that was our baby on an ultrasound.  It was amazing, and I was in love.  We were told our due date was to be around March 23rd, 2014.  How perfect was that?  A spring baby, and on the 23rd nonetheless - my birthday is May 23rd.  It had to be meant to be.

When we made it past the first trimester, we were relieved.  We thought we were safe.  We had switched doctors so that we could be closer to home and work to make the appointments easier.  We loved our new doctor, she was amazing.  We had gotten to hear the heartbeat several times before, and our baby always had a strong heartbeat - in the 140s.  We knew he or she was strong.  I had had a relatively easy pregnancy thus far - no morning sickness, no strange cravings, no negative side effects really - I guess I was lucky, and I felt happy.  Doug and I wondered if it was a boy or girl.  Deep down I had a feeling it was a girl, but I didn't want to tell people that because I would have felt like a bad mother if I guessed wrong.  Doug had assumed it was a boy.  We talked about names and our excitement. My Mom was hoping it was a girl so that I could experience what she did in raising me - pay back, I suppose, for the trials and tribulations in raising a strong-willed girl.  Doug's parents hoped it was a girl as well, since they had so many grandsons and only one other granddaughter.  Everyone was happy for us.  My niece, and BFF, called the baby "her baby."  She was thrilled to help with her baby cousin and wanted to share everything with her cousin.

Finally, around 20 weeks, we went in to find out what we were having.  Of course, our child would not show his/her face (ever) on an ultrasound, but would show us the gender without embarrassment.  We were having a little girl, clear as day, as she was mooning us.  I thought Doug was going to pass out - he kept asking the tech if she was sure it was a girl.  Was there something tucked away?  No way, no how.  She was our little girl.  Everything was perfectly formed, and anatomically correct.  10 fingers, 10 toes, organs looked perfect.  No sign of any genetic abnormalities, and a perfect heartbeat.  My fluid level looked slightly below normal, but I was told to up my fluid intake and they would check again at 24 weeks.  The only other thing that appeared out of the ordinary was the placenta - I might have placenta previa, as the placenta appeared low-lying.  The doctor said not to worry, as this often corrected itself as the pregnancy progressed.  Worst case scenario, it didn't change, and we'd have to have a c-section.  I wasn't worried about this - I wasn't one of those mothers who really cared how I delivered.  I just wanted her to be delivered safe, especially after all we had been through.

The 24 week check-up showed that the placenta previa had corrected itself and my fluid levels were back in the normal range.  All of my bloodwork and urine checks and blood pressure checks were perfect.   I had passed my early glucose check (since I had PCOS - they check at 20 weeks and 28 weeks) with flying colors.  Everything was sailing along fine.  We began planning the nursery - a beach theme of course.  We picked out a name without fighting - it just felt right.  She was going to be our Ellison Ann.  Our little Ellie girl.  Ellison because I loved the nickname "Ellie" and it sounded so pretty and was unique enough that she wouldn't have to worry about another little girl having her same name in any of her classes growing up nor was it too out there that she would be made fun of.  Ann because it was my mother's and grandmother's middle name.

When we went in right before our 28th week, we had another ultrasound.  It had appeared that the placenta previa might have returned but the doctor wanted the maternal fetal specialist to take a look at it.  She did, and decided she wanted us to come back in for another check in a week.  We went in at about 28 weeks, 3 days.  I had my Mom with me for this appointment since Doug had worked the night before and needed to sleep.  As the tech examined her, she hid her face as usual.  Her fluid levels looked fine and her measurements were all normal.  But when checking the placenta, the tech kept going over the same area and finally said she was going to get the specialist.  I knew something was not normal and immediately began to panic.  The specialist came in and examined the area herself.  She asked me to get dressed and she would talk to me then.  I knew it wasn't great news.  When she returned, she explained that it was not placenta previa, it was vasa previa.  A more serious and rare condition.  One that occurs in less than 1% of all pregnancies.  She explained that I had a velamentous insertion of the umbilical cord that was indicative of a vasa previa.  In other words, Ellison's cord was low-lying, and the membranes of the cord itself were exposed and possibly attached to the outlying tissue of my cervix as the cord tracked up to the placenta.  This condition carries a 50% fetal mortality rate if not diagnosed, but a 97% survival rate if caught early.  The risk effects the baby in that if the membranes rupture (as happens usually during labor), the baby would most likely bleed out in a matter of about two minutes. 

The course of treatment would be to go on immediate bed rest at home until about 30 weeks, then I would go into the hospital at 30 weeks for more thorough monitoring of contractions and heartbeat.  Then, Ellison would be delivered via c-section at 35 weeks.  Since little is known about vasa previa, and it's so rare, the doctor said that this was the established course of treatment.  While I was worried, I figured it had been caught early and we'd be in the best place possible in the event that anything happened.  So, Doug and I prepared for the thought of bed-rest for 7 weeks.  He was a trooper - taking care of the household, the animals, me, all while working midnight shift.  I tried to occupy myself the best I could at home.  My Mom brought me breakfast every morning that my Dad had made and kept me company.

Finally, on January 7th we were admitted to the hospital for what was to be a little over a 5 week stay.  I tried to stay positive, and deal with the separation from my normal activities, my animals, and my husband.  I endured numerous needle sticks, IV lines being put in, and different monitorings.  I tried not to complain.  Now I wish I had not complained at all.  During the time periods when my family, and friends, weren't visiting, I would talk to Ellison.  I would even read to her and tell her things - how much I loved her, and that I couldn't wait to see her little face.  I would constantly rub my belly hoping she would feel my touch.  Oftentimes, it was just me and her.  It was my job to protect her since I was her mother.

The nurses and doctors all marveled at her amazingly strong heartbeat and accelerations during all of her monitorings.  She always hovered in the 140s and was very active.  She hated the monitorings - I'd often have to chase her down during these.  She would punch and kick and hiccup often.  Especially in the mornings after I had eaten french toast or pancakes with syrup.  She was definitely Doug and I's daughter - always making her presence felt.  She often woke me up at 5 am with the hiccups.  We had even prepared for the possibility that she would have to spend time in the NICU because she was coming a little early but we knew she was tough and thought that she'd be out of there in record time if she even had to go at all.  I kept trying to eat as healthy as I could to get her to keep growing to a healthy weight.  I figured if I could get her to be over 5 lbs, she'd be as healthy as possible.  I took two steroid shots to help her lungs mature.  After my 31st week check-up, she was in the 53rd percentile for weight and height, and was growing everyday.  My belly seemed like it was getting bigger with each passing day.  We knew she was head-down after our last ultrasound, and her butt was constantly jabbing me in the ribs.  Again, she just wanted me to know she was right there, constantly punching.  And she definitely had a strong hook - she was my daughter.

While at the hospital, the nurses and doctors were all amazing.  I got to know many of them and we'd talk about their stories and many of them had positive stories of bed-rest and pre-term babies that were now healthy children.  I felt that we were in good hands.  My doctor came to visit almost everyday to check on me.  I had even made friends with the other long-term bedresters who ironically were also having girls.  Figures - only girls could be difficult.  A social worker would come visit and talk with me often - she even arranged fun activities for us like crafts and pedicures.  The time was passing, and it hadn't been too bad.  I got excited to change the calender from January to February, thinking that I would get to see and hear Ellison in about 17 days when her c-section was penciled in for February 18th.  Everything appeared perfectly fine with the pregnancy.  Everything up until February 1st when that calendar was changed over... 

-I have to stop here for now, as it will take a lot out of me to write about how the day that forever changed my life occurred.  I'm sorry if this is long, and maybe boring, but I just feel I have to get it out.