Sheer and Utter Terror

I let this blog slip by for too long, and for that the story is now going to lack in the richness it so deserves.  I’m going to try to compress months, or parts of months, into an hour or two of writing before I pass out, after this day.  I have to write this, not for you, but I need to write this for me.

Erin and I have spent months preparing for our Beanie.  We call the baby The Bean because we don’t know it’s gender.  So we can’t use a name, and “it” gets old quickly, but sometimes you just have too.  The name Bean came from when we were looking at various bits of info and size photos on the babycenter.com website (btw, good site for a lot of info, if you haven’t figured this out already).  At one point early on we saw that the baby was the size of a bean of some sort, and the name Bean came, and stuck.

We’re on week 31, and it’s still the Bean.

We have, for the last 28 or so weeks, been preparing for the Bean.  We’ve taken classes, found an excellent midwife, developed a birth plan we’re both very happy with.  We’ve researched formula and breast-feeding, disposable and reusable diapers, strollers, car seats, cribs and co-sleepers.  We’ve seen the midwife, time and time again.  Found ourselves a doula.  Talked about what music to have during the birth, made jokes when we read it was safe to have sex while Erin was having contractions as long as the water hadn’t broke.  I know more about more things that a year ago I never cared about, or knew existed than I would’ve guessed possible.  Read, read, talk and talk.

I’ve been amazed at how much any one person, namely how much I, can talk about a baby not yet born, hell, talk about a baby at all.  Every conversation turns that way, sooner or later, but mostly sooner.  And I rarely have gotten bored of it, I’m probably the only person in the conversation who wasn’t bored.  The Bean fascinates me, the possibilities of this little life amaze me.  The frightening possibility that any universe would allow me to raise a child astounds me.

Several months back we were on a trip to northern California.  Erin had just started to feel Beanie kicking and punching a week or two earlier.  So in a hotel room in Reno Nevada I felt my baby kick my hand.  My baby, kicked, maybe punched, my hand.  We were just laying in bed spooning, and I felt my baby, my Beanie move.  As the months would go by we would get used to this.  The Bean was  very active, very active.  I could count ten movements in as many seconds regularly.  It was fun.  Less so for Erin, who’s ribs were getting sore in one spot.  Beanie was the master of En Utero Dance Dance Revolution.

For 30 weeks of pregnancy, everything had been smooth.  Erin has grown normally, her protein has been good, Bean’s heart has been strong and regular.  Any other number of tests have come back fine and well (I have no idea what all the little strips on the urine test measure among other things.)

Week 31 things got tough.  Erin started having pain in her lower abdomen, her left leg, and her side, under her rib.  Her walking was becoming labored and difficult, as was her sleeping.  Our midwife diagnosed Erin as have an irritable uterus.  Basically she was having irregular, short contractions.  Nothing that was a source of immediate concern for a pre-term birth, but it was disturbing her sleep.

Friday we went and she did a test at a local clinic for a UTI, positive.  (Really, it’s not like pregnant women are peeing constantly already, or have pressure in their abdomens, or many of the other symptoms.)  Got meds for it.  Did some research and found out a UTI will increase problems with an irritable uterus.  Thought we had any number of the recent problems on the road to reduction.

Saturday, the 4th of July, Erin sent an email to our midwife with a photo of her foot.  One swollen (left), one not (right).  She told us to go the ER immediately to get checked for a blood clot in her left leg.  On the way to the ER my mom called, she’s a nurse.  I told her what was up, and what the symptoms were, and she diagnosed Erin with a blood clot also.

On arrival at the hospital we were first taken up to labor and delivery.  Being 31 weeks pregnant they wanted to check the baby first and foremost.  Erin was put on a fetal monitor.  The Beanie’s heartbeat, was, as always, strong and regular.  Erin’s uterus was having irregular intermittent contractions.  On the advice of the doctor and in consultation with our midwife she was given some drug I don’t remember the name of that relaxes smooth muscle tissue so the contractions would stop.  After two or three hours everything was good and fine, and back to the ER.

In the ER after a doppler ultrasound of her left leg Erin was diagnosed with a blood clotting issue.  Once they diagnosed it they wouldn’t let her even go to the bathroom.  Things got serious for a bit.  After talking to this person and that person, this doc and that doc, a plan was decided on.  She was to go on something called Leverox, or something like that, I can’t remember the names of all these drugs precisely, it’s an anticoagulant.  Because of the holiday weekend getting the script for home use wasn’t a possibility and she needed to be on it so Erin was admitted for a day or two so she could get her shots and be observed.

So they admitted us to labor and delivery so Erin and the Bean could be monitored.  Fetal monitoring was minor, which we were happy about.  The Bean’s heartbeat was strong and regular when it was monitored.  The Bean just liked to move a lot so monitoring was tough and Erin needed to move regularly so monitoring was basically a real pain with limited benefit.  We were told that we were going to stay till Monday morning so Erin wouldn’t miss any shots.  They were going to transfer us to postpartum (whatever the department for the women who’ve given birth already is) for Sunday night.  They didn’t need to monitor the Bean anymore, and Erin required minimal monitoring they felt.

Before they did that though they wanted to do a quick ultrasound, just to double check that everything was good with the Bean.  Yep, no biggie.  The doc was talking us through the ultrasound.  Feet (10 toes, I looked), legs, on down.  There was more fluid than she liked.  She went into doctor talk, that clean antiseptic talking through what she was seeing and what she wasn’t.  What she didn’t see was a skull.  There was face, but no skull.  I almost fainted.  I had to leave the room twice.  I feel horrible for that.  I could leave the room, Erin couldn’t.  I was so flush.  The nurses were afraid to leave me alone because I had so little skin tone.

The doctor wanted to do a vaginal ultrasound to be sure.  We did.  She was.

I don’t remember when I asked her to stop, but somewhere I did.  We needed to stop for a minute.  I needed to breath.  Erin needed to breath.  We had spent this year, we found out Erin was pregnant on Dec 27th, this whole year looking forward to our Beanie.

The doctor told us there was no chance for our baby to survive.  The brain, as much as there might be one, was getting mushed around unprotected as the Bean moved.  Everything was fine up to the brainstem with the Bean.  The brainstem being intact meant that the heart pumped fine (I saw it pumping on the ultrasound, our Beanie’s little heart, I was happy to have seen it beating, all those conformations of good things, I loved that) and it meant that Bean would have those involuntary movements that Erin was feeling.  Erin had to lay there, knowing our baby would die as she felt it kicking inside of her.  I love her, and I feel so badly for her.  I wish I had been a better pillar for her, but all I could do was cry on her.  Since that hour I’ve been happy any point she wasn’t crying.

(She’s asleep now.  It makes me happy, as much as anything can right now.  Moments like this I love modern medications.)

The problem would with skull would’ve started at about 3 or 4 weeks.  Probably around when we were just learning she was pregnant, right when the spinal cord was first forming.  When we were so excited, and so scared, and so confused.  That’s when this started.  There was nothing we could’ve done, there is nothing wrong with either of us.  It’s bad luck, just bad luck.

Tomorrow, or the day after, depends on how the meds work, Erin needs to give birth to our Bean.  Our Bean may be alive when it’s born, but it won’t live long they tell us, if it is alive.  We had planned a home birth with no medications, now we are going with any anti-pain med we can get and any med they want to induce and rush this along.  Our midwife is trying to get us to think of this not as a birth but as a medical procedure.  She doesn’t want us to have this association if we should have future births.

With the clotting issue due to the pregnancy we don’t want to have this take any longer than necessary.  We, I very much, don’t want to endanger Erin.  Losing the Bean is a pain I don’t know how I’m going to bear (I don’t know if I’ve ever felt a love like this before), but I will, and I will do so so much better if I can do it with Erin.  To lose both would be…

Erin, and me as well, also can’t go home and spend two months feeling this baby kicking and punching while waiting to be born to die.  It’s something that would tear us each apart.  I know all I want to do is cry.

My eyes hurt from crying.

Tomorrow is going to be worse.

This entry was posted on Sunday, July 5th, 2009 at 11:19 pm and is filed under Pain. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.