What Happened

My little girl, Ella was born two months ago today. I’ve wanted to tell my story for a while now, but have been putting it off. God knows I play the event in my head several times a day. It is really weird how I can be back in that moment in an instant. But, there are times that I wonder if it really happened.

It all started with cramps. I had been having mild cramps all day, but figured I ate something that didn’t agree with me or that I was just growing. I had a lot of cramping the first couple of months of the pregnancy, so I figured this was nothing. My husband and I were in bed watching Entourage and I got up to go to the bathroom. I started screaming from the bathroom because I had passed my mucus plug- though at the time, I didn’t identify this as a mucus plug- I hadn’t gotten to the labor part of What to Expect When You’re Expecting, but I knew something wasn’t right. I phoned the on-call doctor and she told me just to drink water and lay down. I followed her instructions, but about a half hour later, my intuition told me to just go get it checked out.

We arrived at the hospital around midnight. The doctor checked me and said everything felt fine, but that she wanted to do an ultrasound also. The ultrasound showed that my cervix was shortening. She told me that she wanted me to stay over night so that they could monitor me. At this point, I wasn’t terribly worried. I thought I was in good hands and that I’d get all fixed up. The monitor showed that I was having contractions and that my uterus was irritable.

I sat around for another day and on Monday morning, I was wheeled up to Perinatology for another ultrasound. Ella looked beautiful! She looked so big. The technician said that all of Ella’s organs looked good. Ella was measuring 1 pound 3 ounces. She got a really good shot of her foot and was able to confirm that Ella was indeed a girl. Then, she proceeded to check my cervix. Again, I was not familiar with any of this. I ignored the chapters on what could go wrong when reading my pregnancy books. She told me that my cervix was funneled and was only a couple of millimeters long. She told me to get dressed and then she wheeled me into the peri’s office. Before she started talking, I asked her to call down to my room to see if my husband had arrived. I had sent him home the night before to get some much needed sleep and he wasn’t back yet. I still wish he would have been there to hear the news. She basically told me that I could do nothing and see what happened or I could have an emergency cerclage and receive progesterone shots once a week. She was pregnant, so I asked her what she would do if she were in my position. I didn’t really get a straight answer from her, but I think she was trying to say that I should take the latter route. She told me that she’d consult with the head doctor and then come see me in my room a little later. She rolled me out to the lobby and left me there for the nurse from L and D to come get me. I don’t think I’ve ever felt more alone. I just started crying. The receptionist came over and gave me some tissue. I had only been back in my room for a couple of minutes, when the peri came to see me again. She said she’d looked at the print out of my contractions and that my uterus was too irritable to sew me up, therefore cerclage was not an option. This was the first time that I thought, “Oh my god, I’m losing this baby.” This was the first time I felt hopeless. The peri left and my actual doctor came in to see me. My husband arrived shortly after. I started crying the second he walked in because I knew that I had to tell him the horrible news. My doctor’s plan was to send me home. She told me I needed to be on complete bed rest and that someone would come to my house once a week to administer progesterone shots. At 24 weeks (I was 22 at the time), I could get a round of steroid shots to accelerate the development of Ella’s lungs. She also said that if I made it to 25 weeks (viability), I could continue my bed rest at a hospital that had a level 3 NICU. I was given my first progesterone shot and a bottle of Nifedipine (to stop the contractions) and was sent home. Looking back, I wish I would have refused to go home. I should have just asked to stay in the hospital to be monitored 24/7.

I tried to remain so positive the week I was on bed rest. I never complained about the aches and pains I was experiencing from being in bed 23.5 hours a day. I knew that I would rather have been in bed in pain than be delivering my daughter. I had my husband tape up pictures of healthy babies on my wall so that I could meditate on the idea of bringing home a healthy baby. My husband did such an amazing job caring for me. I woke him up at 5 am each morning because I was starving. He’d get up and make me eggs or oatmeal and then we’d go back to bed for a few more hours. I was trying to consume a lot of protein and fat so that Ella could grow big and strong since it was inevitable that she would be born early. I really couldn’t do much lying in bed, so I watched a lot of TV and checked my email frequently. As the week progressed, my contractions got stronger and closer together.

Seven days had passed since I went to the hospital. Again, my husband and I were in bed watching Slumdog Millionaire. I had been in touch with my doctor all day because I was having more intense contractions. Again, I got up to go to the bathroom and discovered that I was bleeding. I called my doctor and she asked me to put her on speaker phone so that she could speak to both of us. She explained to us that it seemed like Ella was coming and asked us if we wanted to try to save her (did we want to resuscitate at birth), because if we did, we’d need to go to another hospital that had a level 3 NICU and she would not be the delivering doctor. I spoke without even asking my husband for his opinion. I told her that I wanted to do everything to keep Ella inside me, but that if she was going to come, I wanted nature to take its course. I still feel bad about this decision, but my feeling was that I didn’t want her to spend months in the NICU and the rest of her life sick. I wanted to be selfish and do anything to keep her alive, but I also knew that it wouldn’t be fair. In the end, I didn’t even have to make this decision because Ella wasn’t alive at birth.

I arrived at the hospital around midnight. The doctor went to check me and saw that my membranes were bulging and that I would probably deliver soon. The nurse started to explain to us what would happen. I asked if they could just knock me out and take the baby out of me. She said that while they could do that, they really wanted me to be a part of the whole process and see my baby. She said it helps with the whole grieving process.

As I settled into my room, the contractions were so strong that I was screaming. Once I got my epidural (my water broke while I was receiving it, by the way) and some anxiety medication, I was more comfortable.

Morning came and my doctor finally arrived. It was her birthday and she was scheduled off for the weekend, but she came in to deliver Ella. My contractions were leveling off a bit, so I was given Pitocin to speed things up. At about 10:45, I was ready to deliver. The nurses held my legs up and told me to push. I started to cry as I made my first push. I couldn’t believe that this was it. I would be with Ella no more. My doctor told me to push again and by the third push, at 10:50 Ella was out. My doctor had tears in her eyes and was so calm. She told me that Ella was not alive and that she was quite bruised because the labor is hard on such a little baby. I was surprised that she wasn’t alive. When I had arrived at the hospital, Ella’s heart was beating away. I thought I’d at least get to see her alive for a couple of minutes. My doctor explained to me that the whole process is really tough on the baby and that she probably died when my water broke. The nurse wrapped Ella in a blanket and put her on my chest. The nurse gushed and said Ella was so beautiful. That soothed me. I was so afraid of seeing her because I thought she’d be underdeveloped at 23 weeks. My teary eyed husband was right next to me and his head was lying on my chest too. Ella felt so warm. I examined her hands, feet, and lips. I held her on my chest for about two hours and then gave her to the nurse so that she could get cleaned up.

Ella was brought back into my room one more time about 8 pm that night. She was cleaned and dressed all in pink. There was a fresh pink rose in her basket. The nurse handed her to me, but I only held her for a minute. Once again, I asked the nurse to take her away. At the time, it was just too hard to look at my dead baby.

To this day, I still don’t know why I gave her to the nurse so easily. I should have held onto to her longer. I should have refused to give her up. I should have refused to leave the hospital without my baby. I also know that no length of time would have been enough.