Girl’s Life

Yesterday marks the year anniversary of the major scare that sent me rushing back to the hospital only a week after delivering Sophia.

Last year, I posted only vaguely of my experiences. It was still too close to home to give details and describe my emotions about the whole event. I didn’t want to stop and think of how close of a call that was.

What happened is that I had a major hemorrhage from part of the placenta that was, unknowingly by the doctor, left inside my uterus after labor. And the ironic part about it all is that the morning this all happened, I was finally starting to feel like I was actually going to recover from childbirth. That first week out, I wasn’t so sure. I thought I’d be forever bloated and leaking and all those gross things. But a week later, I had woken up feeling great. Don’t get me wrong, I still had a pile of extra pounds around my middle and wasn’t going to start marathon training or anything, but I was definitely feeling more like myself than I had in awhile.

The day was beautiful. I was happy and in love with my new baby, and we were finally getting into a groove with the breastfeeding thing. (Whoever tells you it just comes naturally is smoking something. Breastfeeding is definitely a learned skill — for mom and baby.) Sophia and I were just settling into an afternoon feeding session when all of a sudden something just didn’t feel right. I knew I was bleeding, but not just a little — I could tell right then in an instant that I was bleeding out badly.

Chris was inches away from me working on the computer. So when I quickly passed off the baby to him and rushed to the bathroom yelling “Call 911!”, he knew something was very wrong.

You would think the rest would be more of a blur. But I have strange clarity about every detail for the rest of the experience. I remember the EMTs and firemen all gathered in my living room and me lying there on the floor thinking how funny it looked to have that many big men in such a small room. I remember my dog barking frantically at them as they came (they arrived only two minutes after our 911 call — amazing). I remember being wheeled to the ambulance while people from the neighborhood curiously gathered in the street, and realizing that I was the one causing the commotion. I remember the kind man in the back of the ambulance with me – talking about his job as a paramedic, about living life fully and with adventure, asking me questions, and just generally keeping my mind distracted from the fact that I was traveling in an ambulance away from my home and my new baby. Chris couldn’t ride with me to the hospital because he had Sophia, and I think that practically killed him to watch them drive away with me.

Chris got to the hospital maybe an hour later. He was my advocate. He helped make things happen. Because the whole time I was lying there in the emergency room, they didn’t check me or do anything. But once he got there, he was able to make things happen. And then everything happened really fast.

I got in for an ultrasound. And then I was whisked off to surgery when they realized I was still 3 cm dialated a whole week after labor. My doctor did the D&C and removed what was left inside. But the bleeding wouldn’t stop. I’d been bleeding for hours. She finally found a pretty major tear inside that hadn’t previously been noticed and, thus, hadn’t been stitched after labor.

And then there I was, finally done with it all. I was weak and itching like crazy from the anesthesia. And I was very low on blood. But being Rh negative, I had been given a shot upon leaving the hospital the week before that would have made finding my specific blood type with that specific shot infused into the blood to match what was flowing through my veins very difficult. I am so thankful that I didn’t get to the point where I had to have a transfusion. I was really only minutes away from needing one, and locating the right blood would have taken much more than just a few minutes.

When remembering the experience, it makes me anxious all over again. It was the most traumatic experience I have ever gone through. I was exhausted physically and emotionally. I think that’s why I haven’t relayed the events to many people. I couldn’t even fill out the hospital survey that came in the mail following my stay — I would look at it and just get sick thinking of what had happened…what could have happened.

But through it all I was also reminded of how truly cared for I am. There are so many things that I am thankful for, looking back. I am thankful for an extremely capable doctor who, I believe to this day, fixed another doctor’s big mistake. I am thankful for my mom and husband who both rushed to be by my side in the ER and who were both great at distracting me during IVs. I am thankful for my sister-in-law and mother-in-law (and mom) who stayed with Sophia and took great care of her throughout the following few days I spent in the hospital. And of course, for friends and family who made me feel loved through their prayers and concerned calls.

I think of my husband and my little girl. And mostly I am so thankful that I am here with them today. I am thankful for my beautiful family and our quiet and loud and joyful and mellow and just plain wonderful moments together.

I am thankful for another day.