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Isabella's Story
BellasMommy1211 - 02:45am May 1, 2012 EST
Where do I begin?! I’m still in the grieving stage, even though my precious miracle iust turned 1. Even though putting Isabella’s story into words is difficult and very emotionally trying, my hope is that I can give just one preemie parent a glimmer of the light at the end of the tunnel, or to just know that they are not alone!
My husband and I found out we were expecting November 17th, 2010…almost a year after we were married. Call it a “mother’s intuition”, but by the time I made it to my first OB appointment at 6 weeks, I knew something was off. I had asked for an ultrasound, because it was way too early to hear her heartbeat via the Doppler. I was told there wasn’t any reason or valid justification for it, and I needed to wait it out.
Right around 8 weeks, when we went to visit family for the Christmas holiday, I began hemorrhaging severely. I absolutely believed I was miscarrying, and I was completely devastated! It was a 30 minute drive to the hospital, and the whole way I prayed. “Please God, don’t take our baby from us! She needs us, and we need her!!” (I always knew in my heart she was a girl!) I was terrified of hearing those words, that we had lost her and there was nothing they could do. I was so elated, and surprised, when the ultrasound and blood work revealed that Bella was still inside, and doing well!
I went back to work that week, and within a few days I was hospitalized again for more hemorrhaging. Needless to say, by week 10, I was on permanent do-not-move-off-the-couch-or-clean-or-cook-or-do-anything-at-all bed rest. I was absolutely horrified! I kept trying to find reasons, or some type of cause as to why this was happening to us! I was later diagnosed with having several subchorionic hemorrhages, which basically means chronic placental abruption. I was told by every doctor that there was no rhyme or reason to them, it was completely random, and most of all it was beyond my control. There was nothing I could have done to predict or prevent them.
During my pregnancy, I had an extreme amount of blood loss and abnormally low blood pressure. I’d seen it get as low as in the 60’s. I was extremely sluggish, and getting up to use the restroom was a workout. I spent at least half of my pregnancy hospitalized, hooked up to monitors, receiving medications, and eventually receiving a blood transfusion. (My blood count was at a 7, and for a pregnant woman it should have been 14+.) Most of my family and friends (and my doctors!) were extremely concerned about my well-being, and couldn’t understand why I was fighting so hard for a pregnancy they thought was a “lost cause”. I was told numerous times that I most likely would not make it to viability. I would have never of given up the fight for her! She needed me to fight, and to be the one to stand my ground, no matter what!
At 23 weeks and 1 day, I awoke to a sudden gush, around 2:30 am. I knew something was wrong, so I called my OB first thing that morning. They immediately sent me to the hospital to be checked. As soon as the ultrasound tech looked, my worst fears were confirmed. I will never forget the look on her face. Just from looking at the ultrasound myself, I could tell there was no fluid left. She left the room almost immediately, and within minutes the doctor came in with a nurse and told me my water had indeed broken, and I could go into full-blown labor at any moment. He then read me a fact sheet about infants born this prematurely, that 3% of them actually survive, and so very many of them have very severe physical and mental handicaps.
Saying ‘I lost it’ was a complete understatement. I cried so hard that I wasn’t able to hear what anyone said from that point on. A piece of me died that day, that is for sure. I could not believe this was happening! At that point my doctor informed me that he had contacted the hospital in Denver (closest level III NICU), and they were willing to take me since I was so close to 24 weeks. He stated that a helicopter was en route to take me there, so my husband left immediately to go home and pack, and make the journey to meet me there.
When I arrived, I had a ton of ultrasounds and checks, and doctors coming in and out to warn me of all the complications she could face when she arrived. That I still had the choice to terminate if I wanted, to deliver her and not request any kind of life support. I became very upset, and said, “DO NOT talk with me about this AGAIN!” I know they see women all the time, some choosing to do so, because they weren’t able to handle it, because raising a micro preemie is hard. Or I was told that we could just “try again”. Honestly, there was never a doubt in my mind that, no matter what the outcome, we would work through it. We would give her the best shot at life, and if, God-willing, that wasn’t the way it was meant to be, we would deal with it then. I never had a doubt that Isabella belonged in my arms, and in this world with us.
I was given two doses of IV antibiotics, to ward off infection, and two steroids shots to improve Bella’s development before she came. I laid on bed rest for another 6 days before she made her arrival into this world. I was informed that if she came before I made it to 24 weeks, they would not resuscitate her. I knew I had to at least make it until then, and I told myself that I would make it…no ifs, ands, or buts. I spent that week in a lot of pain and discomfort, and with very sporadic, but very painful contractions.
After 6 long days of praying, and staying in bed as much as possible, I awoke to extreme back pain. It was the morning of April 5th, 2011. I had made it exactly to 24 weeks. I barely slept the night before. My doctors came in to check on me around 8 am, and I informed them of my pain. It felt as though I had a tremendous amount of pressure and weight on my lower back. My previous children were by c-section, so I was unaware of what “real” labor felt like! They then stated that they would check back with me after I had taken a shower, to see if the pain was any better.
I took a long, hot shower…and I began to feel a little better. When I stepped out, I felt an extreme urge to go to the restroom. I soon realized that was not the case. Immediately I began to panic! I pulled the emergency cord next to me at least a dozen times, and began yelling like a maniac! Within 30 seconds, I had 3 nurses in the bathroom with me. I was then carried to my bed, because I could not walk. I remember looking down, and realizing I was staring at a large trail of blood under me. Within 20 seconds after that, there was no less than 30 people in my room. NICU staff, students, OB doctors…you name it, they were there. I kept telling them to call my husband, and praying out loud that this was not the end for our precious little girl! It honestly felt like the 3 minutes it took to push Bella out was an eternity. Even in my memories, it still plays back in slow motion. I kept looking around for someone to give me some kind of reassurance that everything was going to be okay. I can only imagine the terror in my eyes, and the look on my face!
Isabella was born at 8:30 am. She was 1 lb 6 oz, and was 11 ¾ inches long. She was born breech, with one leg up by her face, and one leg down. I remember seeing her after she came out, and thinking how beautiful and perfect she was. She looked like a tiny, perfect baby doll. I also remember how red her skin was. As they put her on the warmer beside my bed, and began to intubate her, I kept asking a million questions. “Is she okay?” “Is she breathing?” “Is she going to be okay?!” …on and on and on. No one said anything. It was complete silence, and utterly terrifying! They took her from me, and whisked her away to the NICU to stabilize her. We were able to go see her within two hours after she was born. I found out later that she came out with a heartbeat, but that she was not breathing on her own.
I cannot ever put into words what I was feeling in those moments. It was so surreal to me, until I saw our precious angel for the first time. They wheeled me down to see her, and against their advice I stood up to be able to see her tiny face better. I literally almost passed out. It was too much. Too much for me, and too much for my heart to bear. It was absolutely life-altering. Our lives changed in an instant, and it was so much to process. She was so tiny, and looked so fragile. She was so tiny she wasn’t able to fit into even preemie clothing, and her diaper was less than half the size of a small baby doll’s. Her skin was paper thin, and she had tubes and wires everywhere. We were told that her first week would be designated the “honeymoon week”. Essentially, it would seem as though she was doing amazing, and that the worst was over…but that it wouldn’t last, and not to expect her not to have setbacks during our journey.
We found out in that first week that Bella did not suffer any brain bleeds. Which was an absolute miracle, since we were told it was pretty common in preemies born at her gestational age. We also discovered that Bella had an ASD (Atrial Septal Defect – a hole in her heart). She was given medication to close it, but it did not work in the beginning. With all of the extra blood flow, it was complicating her breathing even more so than it already was. Within time, we did find out that Bella’s heart is no longer an issue, and she also never suffered from Retinopathy of Prematurity, which is also very common with micro preemies.
After Bella’s “honeymoon week” was over, we went through many ups and downs. I heard her first brady (Bradycardia – a disorder of the heart rate, which causes the heart to beat too slowly. It is mostly caused by a preemie holding their breath, or forgetting to breathe). It was terrifying!!! I will never forget the alarm that is set for it as well, it will forever haunt my nightmares. For her first month of life, we often
Where do I begin?! I’m still in the grieving stage, even though my precious miracle iust turned 1. Even though putting Isabella’s story into words is difficult and very emotionally trying, my hope is that I can give just one preemie parent a glimmer of the light at the end of the tunnel, or to just know that they are not alone!
My husband and I found out we were expecting November 17th, 2010…almost a year after we were married. Call it a “mother’s intuition”, but by the time I made it to my first OB appointment at 6 weeks, I knew something was off. I had asked for an ultrasound, because it was way too early to hear her heartbeat via the Doppler. I was told there wasn’t any reason or valid justification for it, and I needed to wait it out.
Right around 8 weeks, when we went to visit family for the Christmas holiday, I began hemorrhaging severely. I absolutely believed I was miscarrying, and I was completely devastated! It was a 30 minute drive to the hospital, and the whole way I prayed. “Please God, don’t take our baby from us! She needs us, and we need her!!” (I always knew in my heart she was a girl!) I was terrified of hearing those words, that we had lost her and there was nothing they could do. I was so elated, and surprised, when the ultrasound and blood work revealed that Bella was still inside, and doing well!
I went back to work that week, and within a few days I was hospitalized again for more hemorrhaging. Needless to say, by week 10, I was on permanent do-not-move-off-the-couch-or-clean-or-cook-or-do-anything-at-all bed rest. I was absolutely horrified! I kept trying to find reasons, or some type of cause as to why this was happening to us! I was later diagnosed with having several subchorionic hemorrhages, which basically means chronic placental abruption. I was told by every doctor that there was no rhyme or reason to them, it was completely random, and most of all it was beyond my control. There was nothing I could have done to predict or prevent them.
During my pregnancy, I had an extreme amount of blood loss and abnormally low blood pressure. I’d seen it get as low as in the 60’s. I was extremely sluggish, and getting up to use the restroom was a workout. I spent at least half of my pregnancy hospitalized, hooked up to monitors, receiving medications, and eventually receiving a blood transfusion. (My blood count was at a 7, and for a pregnant woman it should have been 14+.) Most of my family and friends (and my doctors!) were extremely concerned about my well-being, and couldn’t understand why I was fighting so hard for a pregnancy they thought was a “lost cause”. I was told numerous times that I most likely would not make it to viability. I would have never of given up the fight for her! She needed me to fight, and to be the one to stand my ground, no matter what!
At 23 weeks and 1 day, I awoke to a sudden gush, around 2:30 am. I knew something was wrong, so I called my OB first thing that morning. They immediately sent me to the hospital to be checked. As soon as the ultrasound tech looked, my worst fears were confirmed. I will never forget the look on her face. Just from looking at the ultrasound myself, I could tell there was no fluid left. She left the room almost immediately, and within minutes the doctor came in with a nurse and told me my water had indeed broken, and I could go into full-blown labor at any moment. He then read me a fact sheet about infants born this prematurely, that 3% of them actually survive, and so very many of them have very severe physical and mental handicaps.
Saying ‘I lost it’ was a complete understatement. I cried so hard that I wasn’t able to hear what anyone said from that point on. A piece of me died that day, that is for sure. I could not believe this was happening! At that point my doctor informed me that he had contacted the hospital in Denver (closest level III NICU), and they were willing to take me since I was so close to 24 weeks. He stated that a helicopter was en route to take me there, so my husband left immediately to go home and pack, and make the journey to meet me there.
When I arrived, I had a ton of ultrasounds and checks, and doctors coming in and out to warn me of all the complications she could face when she arrived. That I still had the choice to terminate if I wanted, to deliver her and not request any kind of life support. I became very upset, and said, “DO NOT talk with me about this AGAIN!” I know they see women all the time, some choosing to do so, because they weren’t able to handle it, because raising a micro preemie is hard. Or I was told that we could just “try again”. Honestly, there was never a doubt in my mind that, no matter what the outcome, we would work through it. We would give her the best shot at life, and if, God-willing, that wasn’t the way it was meant to be, we would deal with it then. I never had a doubt that Isabella belonged in my arms, and in this world with us.
I was given two doses of IV antibiotics, to ward off infection, and two steroids shots to improve Bella’s development before she came. I laid on bed rest for another 6 days before she made her arrival into this world. I was informed that if she came before I made it to 24 weeks, they would not resuscitate her. I knew I had to at least make it until then, and I told myself that I would make it…no ifs, ands, or buts. I spent that week in a lot of pain and discomfort, and with very sporadic, but very painful contractions.
After 6 long days of praying, and staying in bed as much as possible, I awoke to extreme back pain. It was the morning of April 5th, 2011. I had made it exactly to 24 weeks. I barely slept the night before. My doctors came in to check on me around 8 am, and I informed them of my pain. It felt as though I had a tremendous amount of pressure and weight on my lower back. My previous children were by c-section, so I was unaware of what “real” labor felt like! They then stated that they would check back with me after I had taken a shower, to see if the pain was any better.
I took a long, hot shower…and I began to feel a little better. When I stepped out, I felt an extreme urge to go to the restroom. I soon realized that was not the case. Immediately I began to panic! I pulled the emergency cord next to me at least a dozen times, and began yelling like a maniac! Within 30 seconds, I had 3 nurses in the bathroom with me. I was then carried to my bed, because I could not walk. I remember looking down, and realizing I was staring at a large trail of blood under me. Within 20 seconds after that, there was no less than 30 people in my room. NICU staff, students, OB doctors…you name it, they were there. I kept telling them to call my husband, and praying out loud that this was not the end for our precious little girl! It honestly felt like the 3 minutes it took to push Bella out was an eternity. Even in my memories, it still plays back in slow motion. I kept looking around for someone to give me some kind of reassurance that everything was going to be okay. I can only imagine the terror in my eyes, and the look on my face!
Isabella was born at 8:30 am. She was 1 lb 6 oz, and was 11 ¾ inches long. She was born breech, with one leg up by her face, and one leg down. I remember seeing her after she came out, and thinking how beautiful and perfect she was. She looked like a tiny, perfect baby doll. I also remember how red her skin was. As they put her on the warmer beside my bed, and began to intubate her, I kept asking a million questions. “Is she okay?” “Is she breathing?” “Is she going to be okay?!” …on and on and on. No one said anything. It was complete silence, and utterly terrifying! They took her from me, and whisked her away to the NICU to stabilize her. We were able to go see her within two hours after she was born. I found out later that she came out with a heartbeat, but that she was not breathing on her own.
I cannot ever put into words what I was feeling in those moments. It was so surreal to me, until I saw our precious angel for the first time. They wheeled me down to see her, and against their advice I stood up to be able to see her tiny face better. I literally almost passed out. It was too much. Too much for me, and too much for my heart to bear. It was absolutely life-altering. Our lives changed in an instant, and it was so much to process. She was so tiny, and looked so fragile. She was so tiny she wasn’t able to fit into even preemie clothing, and her diaper was less than half the size of a small baby doll’s. Her skin was paper thin, and she had tubes and wires everywhere. We were told that her first week would be designated the “honeymoon week”. Essentially, it would seem as though she was doing amazing, and that the worst was over…but that it wouldn’t last, and not to expect her not to have setbacks during our journey.
We found out in that first week that Bella did not suffer any brain bleeds. Which was an absolute miracle, since we were told it was pretty common in preemies born at her gestational age. We also discovered that Bella had an ASD (Atrial Septal Defect – a hole in her heart). She was given medication to close it, but it did not work in the beginning. With all of the extra blood flow, it was complicating her breathing even more so than it already was. Within time, we did find out that Bella’s heart is no longer an issue, and she also never suffered from Retinopathy of Prematurity, which is also very common with micro preemies.
After Bella’s “honeymoon week” was over, we went through many ups and downs. I heard her first brady (Bradycardia – a disorder of the heart rate, which causes the heart to beat too slowly. It is mostly caused by a preemie holding their breath, or forgetting to breathe). It was terrifying!!! I will never forget the alarm that is set for it as well, it will forever haunt my nightmares. For her first month of life, we often
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