My happy ending and what's to come!

Today marks three months since my precious little boy, Maverick Julien Lefevre came into this world.

Three months ago, on an operating room table, my fate was in question.  It is amazing how something so beautiful, the birth of a child can also end up being the scariest day of your life.  Thankfully, my story had a happy ending.  Because of sixty plus strangers who sat and donated blood and a wonderful team of doctors and nurses who got me through an incredibly tough surgery, I get to be here today and watch my children grow up.  Pretty incredible when you think about it.

Going through such a life altering event brings a lot into question and I have often wondered how I was able to survive (when the odds were not in my favor) and so many people die everyday of cancer and most recently, school shootings in my hometown of Parkland.  I have spent the last three months trying to enjoy every moment of the amazing life my husband and I have created.  Remembering the sleepless nights of motherhood and spit up all over my clothing will not last forever.  Soaking in every bit of my son's newborn scent whenever possible, only wishing I could bottle it up and store it. Hugging my girl's and kissing them a million times until they beg me to stop.

I am often asked how I am coping with everything I have been through. Sure, some day's have been harder than others, knowing I lost the part of me that carried and brought my three beautiful children into this world and seeing the large scar that runs vertical down my abdomen as a constant reminder of what my body had to endure make me feel sad sometimes.  Sometimes I find myself holding my breath as I remember the the feeling of waking up in the ICU fighting to breath over the ventilator. Disappointment that I missed the first 5 day's of Maverick's life, knowing I will try to make those day's up somehow in this lifetime. Deep down, I feel there is a reason I survived and although that purpose may not be clear yet, in the meantime, I will find ways to give back and pay my good fortune forward.

April is placenta accreta awareness month. For every mother who loses their life giving birth, 700 mother's almost lose their lives.  Due to rising c-sections in our country, 1 in about 550 woman will be diagnosed with placenta accreta. In a country where we supposedly have such wonderful medical technology, we should not be loosing mother's during childbirth.  The rate of mortality for placenta accreta is 7% and shockingly 10% for woman with placenta previa.  I happened to have both, which is more common than not with placenta accreta. Why are these rates so high? Often it is due to woman not being able to receive the prenatal care necessary to catch this condition so that proper action can be taken to deliver the baby and protect the mother.  Community hospitals need to be prepared to handle these conditions because it is common that the delivery of the baby becomes an emergency due to hemorrhaging and sometimes there is no time to make it to a larger facility.  What can you do today to make a difference? Go to https://www.hopeforaccreta.org/donate and donate money or seek out your local blood bank to donate.  You never know, your blood donation could go to saving a Mom just like me.

If you are reading this and you are dealing with placenta accreta know that more often than not, you will be on the other side of the beast and be able to share your story of survival.  You are not alone, seek out a support group.  I am so thankful for finding https://www.facebook.com/groups/placentaaccretaworldwide/ who offered words of encouragement and strength when I needed it most.  Educate yourself and know your options, even when you have to be your own advocate.  Make sure you find an experienced team of doctors and a hospital equipped to handle the potential need for a massive blood transfusion.

What is next for me?  Documenting this journey has ignited a love for writing.  I plan to start my own blog (which is currently in the works) that showcases my journey of motherhood through pictures, relatable topics and a little bit of humor (because who doesn't need a good laugh sometimes).  I hope you come along and follow me at www.keepingitrealmotherhood.com


XO,
Lisa

When the birth of a baby brings not one, but two Miracles!

I am here, I survived! These words I repeated in my mind over and over as I laid in the ICU bed at Orlando Regional Center, three days after giving birth to my son, Maverick Julien Lefevre.

For those of you who haven't followed my blog, at 20 weeks pregnant, my husband and I received news I had placenta accreta and placenta previa. Upon googling it, everything you read focuses on the death rate associated with the evil duo that had taken over my uterus.  We were both scared.  My husband, who is my hero put on a brave and supportive face.  I did too...in front of everyone, but at night or when I was alone I would cry because I was so scared and afraid.  Just watching my girl's play or do gymnastics would bring tears to my eyes...I wasn't ready to leave this world and I didn't want my girls to grow up without their Mom. I tried to write notes to them...in case I did not survive, but could never bring myself to do it.   I tried positive affirmations, even went to a healer down in Miami to make sure I didn't have any negative energy surrounding me.  He told me I was meant to have three children and that he saw me living a long full life.  I held onto his words with every ounce of my being.

I did all the right things, researched to find an equipped hospital with an experienced team of doctors. I followed all of the restrictions and did my best to take it easy.  I was determined to not let myself or my family feel like a dark cloud had overtaken us, I wanted whatever memories my family had of me should I not survive to be of me smiling and happy.

At 32 weeks pregnant, we uprooted our lives and relocated to Orlando to be closer to the hospital. Those two weeks were both the slowest and fastest of my life.  The day before delivery, I was admitted into the hospital.  Marc stayed by my side the entire time.  I just listened to him sleep that night and watched the clock...waiting, knowing my fate would be determined the following morning. At 6am sharp, they came to start the surgical prep and shortly after loaded me into the ambulance for the short ride across the street from Winnie Palmer to ORMC.  I was as calm as I could be.  Once in pre-op, the nurses and anesthesiologist began the torturous prep for surgery.  Since they had to wait until the last possible minute to put me under general anesthesia, all the IV's (including one into my neck) and catheter had to be placed before I could be brought in the OR.  It wasn't until they were ready to wheel me back, I began to break down.  This was it, I was completely in the doctor's hands.

There was one ray of light I focused on as I went back to surgery.  When we left Winnie Palmer, a sweet young nurse greeted us and said she would be accompanying us and that her job was to stay with me the entire time...her name was Tina.  Most people don't know, but Marc lost his mother when he was a little boy, her name was Tina.  Marc and I looked at each other immediately.  I felt in my heart this was a sign that she was watching over me and would be up above protecting me.

Once I was under, Maverick's delivery couldn't of gone smoother.  Shockingly my placenta came off without much of an issue and my OB's sewed the defect in my uterus and thought they would be able to just tie my tubes and close me.  Unfortunately, it didn't work out that simple.  When they went to do their final checks, they realized I was starting to hemorrhage from my vagina.  Doctor's rushed in and they began to take me apart to try and find and stop the source of the bleeding.  They removed my uterus and had to cut one of my ureters that connected my kidney to my bladder.  They embolized  my uterine artery, but I was still loosing blood rapidly.  My body began to go into DIC (which is when you start to bleed from every where and your clotting factors start to not work).  They finally found the source of the bleeding on my back pelvic wall.  Because of the placenta previa, the weight of the placenta down low had thinned my uterus and it was like tissue paper...it just gave out and all of the dilated vessels behind it had nothing holding pressure on it anymore, causing the massive bleeding.  All in all, I lost 9 liters of blood and fluid.  On average, human's have about 3.5 liters of blood in their body.  I received over 60 units of blood products that day.  My surgeons, decided the repair of my ureter would need to wait and they packed me and sent me to ICU on a ventilator.  They planned to go back on Sunday, after giving my body time to rest and attempt to fix my bladder and kidney.

The next two day's I was heavily sedated.  I was on a breathing machine and feeding tube. I was in and out and could hear my family but couldn't open my eyes.  My Dad said I would often just give a thumbs up when asked something.  The only thing I distinctly remember those first two day's is the ICU nurse...I remember her introducing herself...can you guess what her name was?  It was Tina.  I instantly relaxed.  I am not a religious person, but I definitely feel Marc's Mom is my guardian angel.

On Sunday they took me back into surgery and thankfully were able to put me back together.  I spent the next two day's in the ICU.  It didn't take long for me to regain my spunky spirit and I made every attempt and was determined to get the tubes out of me.  On day three, they took out the breathing tube and day four they took out the feeding tube.  That night, I was transferred back over to Winnie Palmer.  I knew I was getting closer to finally meeting my son.

On the 5th day, I was wheeled down to the NICU.  This was the culmination of the entire journey as I laid my eye's upon my tiny little boy, laying under the UV lights to help his jaundice.  I finally got to hold him in my arms.  I cried, because I felt so lucky to be in that moment, to be there and to have survived.

So, yeah, two miracles happened the day my son was born...one was him and the other miracle was me.  <3

I will admit, I still cry pretty frequently, but not because I am scared of loosing my life, because I am so happy I have been given a second chance.

{A huge thank you to the team of doctor's and nurses from Winnie Palmer and ORMC, whose planning and quick action got me through the hardest day of my life.  They are true hero's and I am one very lucky patient}

An Emotional Rollar Coaster - 3 day's to go

So, I should probably start this post with the preface that it will be brutally honest and I may at many points sound like I am I barely holding it together, which at many moments, isn't far from the truth.  I do my best every day to put on a happy face and pretend I have it together, but at any moment, I can break down and cry...and I do.  From one moment to the next my mental and emotional state seems to shift with the wind.  We are down to the wire, 3 more day's to go and the reality of the journey I am about to embark on is at the forefront.  I will say I wouldn't wish my condition or having to go through this upon anyone, it sucks, and is completely unfair.  I know everyone keeps telling me everything will be alright...you will be happy when your holding that beautiful baby, but I just nod and thank them even though deep down I am a mess and sometimes feel my world is crashing in around me.  I know I am fortunate to be surrounded by those who love me, but at the same time I feel very alone.

Today started with a call from the anesthesiologist to go over what I can expect on Friday and to give me the final verdict on what the anesthesia approach will be.  I had been told by many of my doctor's not count on being awake for the delivery portion, but that they would fight their best for me to try to be awake.  After consulting with colleagues and weighing the benefits versus risks, the anesthesiologist called me personally to let me know the entire delivery and surgery would be done under general.  It felt like a crushing blow to hear those words...as even though I knew the chances were slim I held onto the one thing in my eyes  that might make the birth of my son bearable.  It feels as though I am grieving the loss of a moment I will never be able to get back.  The risks with the surgery are already so scary and I felt knowing that he was at least okay would bring me some peace. Seeing him even if for a moment would bring some happiness to my situation.  I know eventually I will find a way to move forward from this but at this moment it feels impossible.  So today, I am allowing myself to be upset...I am not fighting back feeling sorry for myself...I am not gonna just fake it and put on a happy face for everyone.  Today, I am throwing myself a pity party!

Coming from 12 years of medical device sales, I am not afraid of the Operating Room, or even so much the physical pain, as I will be awake during the entire preparation for the delivery, I will feel every poke, and discomfort as they do everything they can to get me ready for the delivery.  It is really a fucked up mind game and test of mental and emotional strength more than anything else.  I will save everyone all the exciting details on the amount and types of IV's I will have inserted or the Interventional Radiology procedure I will endure to allow my doctors to be proactive and ready for any situation that arises. I know it will be the longest morning/ day of my life.  In my career, it was always someone else on that operating table and on Friday it will be me.  Nothing can prepare you..

Besides the Neonatal staff and Interventional Radiologist, I have met all of the doctors who will help get me and my little man through this.  I can say with complete confidence though, I feel in really good hands with my doctors.  I know why they are doing everything they are doing and from a medical standpoint, I don't really think it is possible to have a better plan.  They have all been so considerate, comforting and encouraging.  I feel like I have an army by side and for that I am so very thankful!

Not saying that the next few day's won't be long and filled with lots of emotion, fear and anxiety, but come Friday morning, I will intend to brush myself off and carry on like the fucking warrior I know I am!