#4 Year two- Delivery Part 2 (March 2003)

              One of the first reactions I had when I found out I had a chronic disease was to withdraw from the people in my life. I'm not sure why...  I think its just human nature to withdraw and survive. It's too emotionally painful to talk about or think about and unfortunately people are quick to judge what they don't understand and can't see or explain.  I strive to avoid that negativity, but as time goes on, its too physically and socially painful to hide the truth. Also opening up about it makes it real and it means its not going away.  I know if I don't share my story, no one will ever understand or truly know me and I want to be understood and loved for everything that I am. It's difficult to feel this sick everyday while looking completely normal on the ouside.
               I'm so grateful for the kind words of support I've been given since starting this blog.  It makes me feel so loved and less alone.  When I have to ask for help or back out of a commitment because I'm too sick on a particular day, I don't have to feel so bad and uncomfortable trying to explain what's going on or feel like people think I'm just lazy.  I would never let anyone down in any way that I have any control over, in fact most days that you see me out and about with my kids or doing anything at all, I am experiencing symptoms that would put most people in bed for the day.  I function with symptoms worst than the flu everyday and the days when I actually can't get off the couch, I'm experiencing a level of symptoms that would send most people to the emergency room or at least cause serious concern.  I'll explain how I got to this place in the blogs to come.
               One thing that I hope this blog brings to people is the understanding that just because you can't comprehend or imagine how sick someone is, doesn't make them any less sick.  I know it sounds too awful to possibly be true, but sadly, it it true.  Underneath it all, I'm still a regular person, just like you, I'm not a hypochondriac, a germ phob, or hungry for attention.  I'm a friend, a wife, a mother, a daughter, a sister, a human being.  I had the same hopes and dreams you did as a child, I have the same hopes and dreams for my children that everyone does.  I laugh and cry and feel stress and hope like everyone else, but I am also very very ill.
               I didn't do anything wrong to deserve this or bring it on, it just happened, it's what I've been given and as much as I change my diet, pray, scream, hope, and search for help it is still here.  I hope with everything in me that I won't be this way forever and my biggest fear is that it'll keep getting worst.  As much as I've become accustomed to it, I still feel with every fiber of my being that it is wrong for anyone to suffer this much.  I choose to be positive everyday and I choose to find the good a midst the suffering.  Believe it or not I am happy inspite of the illness, when you ask how I am and I say "good" I really am good because I choose to be, not because i'm feeling better.  My health doesn't define my life or level of happiness.  I fight everyday just to survive, but I know I am strong enough because I wouldn't be given this trial to bear if I wasn't.  I love life, I don't take the little things for granted, and I love the compassion that I feel for others in all situations. I choose to focus on the good my illness brings to me, not on what it takes from me.
               I hope as I open up about my situation, I will bring peace to others dealing with the tough things in their own lives and also find some peace as I try to figure out how to cope with my situation for the unforeseeable future. It is my greatest desire to give my boys consistency and happiness while dealing with this very unpredictable and devastating illness and all the struggles that go along with it. My love goes out to everyone else out there who suffers, we can do this, hold on and don't ever lose hope.                
              Going back to March 2, 2003...This story is really traumatic and sad.  It was so hard for me to write and relive, but it is part of my health journey so I'm going to share it.  Please know that it is very close to my heart and still hurts and brings tears to my eyes as I think about it, but I am incredibly grateful for the outcome and would go through it again for any of my children.
               After recieving three injections to stop the contractions the night before, I was in a great deal of pain and having contractions a couple of minutes apart.  As we headed to the hospital, I remember we had to stop and get gas.  That was a rough trip for me, the pain was getting worst and I was trying to stay calm and get through each contraction.  At the hospital, I was sent to the ER because I was only 35 and a half weeks along.  Probably just a crazy pregnant lady who thinks she's in labor.  They hooked us up to the moniters, the baby was still doing great, the contractions were coming like clockwork, and I still wasn't showing any signs of dialating or progressing in any way.  I remember just squirming in pain and feeling so scared and confused that I was in so much pain, but not in labor (these couldn't be the braxton hicks contractions I had read about) . There were other patients all around me separated by curtains on either side. I remember how hard the ER bed felt as I longed for any kind of relief.  They were going to send me home, but I was experiencing so much pain that they finally decided to admit me even though they had no idea what was going on.
               I was taken to a private room and given morphine.  I was told that this would ease the pain and either relax me enough to slow the contractions or help the labor to progress.  My parents had traveled from their home in Oakley, Idaho to Boise and were planning on getting to the hospital as soon as possible.  As the morphine kicked in, I was feeling a little more comfortable and expecting to be sent home soon because I still wasn't in active labor so I had Matt call my parents and tell them to go ahead and head to our house, we would probably be headed home soon.  I remember joking a little bit with Matt at that time and feeling some relief that the pain was dissipating.  Then everything changed in an instant.
              I felt a huge gush, and told Matt, "I think my water just broke."  To our immediate horror, we discovered that it wasn't water at all.  I was hemoraging.  Matt ran into the hall and called for help, within seconds I was surrounded by nurses.  There were nurses everywhere, placing IVs in my hands and arms.  I can only describe it as immediate commotion and chaos all around me and everything was moving so fast, but seemed to be in slow motion at the same time.
               So this is what happens with a placenta abruption... I had read about this in my pregnancy book, but it wasn't supposed to happen to me.  We're so thankful that they admitted us instead of sending us home or it would have happened in the car.  Now I had to deliver the baby.  They broke my water and started the petocin.  The pain from the placenta tear was constant and as the contractions became worst, I was drowning in pain, it was as if the world was covered in a haze and spinning in a blur around me, my family had arrived and watched in helpless horror as I whispered softly that I was going to die.  I don't remember speaking much except to ask that my little sister and sister in laws leave the room so they wouldn't feel afraid to have children.  It almost felt like I was going in and out of consciousness as I had completely lost the ability to manege the pain in any way.  I was unable to receive an epidural at any point because the blood loss I had experienced had caused my blood pressure to plummet.  This went on for hours as my body slowly dilated and effaced.  I do remember begging the doctor to do a c-section, but amazingly and thankfully the babies vitals held strong through it all so they chose not to do one.
              This ordeal began at around two in the afternoon (not counting the previous hours of contractions before the abruption). I had lost all track of time and logic, as the labor pains spread into my back, I felt as if I had nothing left and that if I closed my eyes, I would be engulfed into nothingness and just cease to exist.  The medicine they had given seemed to offer no assistance what so ever. I was beginning to lose all hope, without any relief in sight when the men in my family and the Dr who was treating me gathered around me and asked God to bless the baby and me with comfort, peace, and the strength to get through the situation.  Then the Dr gave me a pain medicine through my spine where an epidural would normally be placed and for the first time in hours, I was able to rest a little, if only for a few minutes.  Finally right after midnight, I was dilated to a 10 and 100% effaced.  I was beyond exhausted and the pain was excruciating, but as each contraction came, I found the strength from somewhere within or more likely from someone above to deliver my precious Kaden.
               Matt cut his umbilical cord and they placed him in my arms.  I know I was in shock at that point because I didn't know what was going on, I was so overwhelmed and confused.  I do remember Kaden's eyes looking up at me and locking with my own for a split second before they rushed him out of the room.  I think he knew I would need that memory to get through what happened next.  I didn't realize that it would be weeks before I held him again or saw those beautiful, bright eyes.