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}
