I HAVE DECIDED TO ATTEMPT TO WRITE MY DAUGHTERS BIRTH STORY. SHE TRULY IS A MIRACLE BABY.
When I was 18 years old, I got pregnant. Yeah, I know, I was young and stupid, but I was in love and that's all that mattered. I wanted that baby more than anything in the world, and I wanted Charley to marry me. So when I was almost 6 months along, Charley and I got married. There was no ceremony, just a long cold bus ride to get the license and a happy, quiet evening spend cuddling with eachother. We were so happy and in love, finally we thought, we are starting a family, and now that we're married we're doing it the right way. Little did we know that in a few short weeks our lives would be changed forever.
In February 2001, I was 23 weeks pregnant. Up until this point, I had enjoyed a lovely pregnancy with no complications at all, other than my due date changing all the time and a big weight loss. My doctors assured me that the weight loss was unusual, but that I would be fine. I had no appetite at all, and I just thought that was normal for a pregnant girl, with all the hormones raging. I did my best to force down vitamins and the little food I could stomach. Each time I came in for a check up it was the same thing, I had lost another 2 lbs. By the time I hit February, I had dropped down to 113 lbs. My prepregnancy weight was about 135, and to this day, I cannot for the life of me understand why this was not a huge waving red flag for my doctors to see. I started getting an appetite finally around 24 weeks along, and I was able to get my weight up to 128 lbs. My hands were swelling up a LOT, but again, I naively believed it was all just a part of pregnancy.
One day at a grocery store with my new husband, I decided to play around on the blood pressure machine while Charley shopped. My blood pressure that day was 130/90, which for me was a giant rise. I shook it off, thinking the machine was just off. At My next doctors appointment, My blood pressure was the same. I told my doctor and she agreed, it was a rise for me, but she assured me it was not dangerously high, just slightly elevated. She blamed it on nerves or something. Not even a few days after, I started having horrible pains in my chest. They were the most intense sensations of pain I had ever felt. They took my breath away, and I could not even cry out, though all I wanted to do was scream. I would sit up all night rocking back and forth and whimpering to myself. At first, a double dose of tylenol took away the pain for hours, though it ALWAYS came creeping back. With each day that passed, the Tylenol worked less and less until kit didn't touch the pain for even a half an hour. I called my doctor and was granted an appointment that day. I was given all sorts of tests, and they decided I may have an ulcer. I was given a medication called carafate and sent home. That night the wave of pain hit me like a semi and I could not think. I took the carafate and got into a scalding hot bathtub and cried. I just laid there and bawled like a baby. Thoughts of suicide actually came to me that night. I was in so much pain, I no longer wanted to live. I told my husband and he said I was being dramatic. I got even more frustrated and sunk into a depression. I didn't even want to get out of bed. I was also feeling much more tired than usual. The next day I had finally had as much pain as I could bear without killing myself, so I got on the phone and demanded to be seen at my obstetricians office. Each time a woman goes for a check up, they do a routine urine screening. This time I had protein in my urine. I was sent for more tests and It was discovered I had elevated liver enzymes. I was sent for an ultrasound of my liver and everything looked fine, so they thought maybe I had hepatitis. I was told it would be at least 2 weeks until the results were back, and just to hang in there. Right, hang in there. Their apathy enraged me, and I could feel my blood pressure numbers soar. I was 26 weeks pregnant, and very sick. And no one cared. My husband did not believe any of my ailments after that, to him I was just a hypochondriac, and everytime I claimed I 'knew' something was wrong, the doctors would send me home. He was tired of the middle-of-the-night excruciating pain routine.
27 weeks, still in pain, still no answers. Tylenol was helping again, but I felt like I was walking around in a daze all the time. My skin was chalk white and clammy, and my hands and face were puffy and sore. The pain was a dull yet constant ache right in the middle of my chest, just below the breastbone. Hepatitis tests came back negative. I searched the internet for answers. I typed in each of my symptoms into the 'search' bar and it sent me to a page about HELLP Syndrome. After reading about it I KNEW that was what was wrong with me. My husband and father laughed, said I was being paranoid, that I was going to make myself think I was sick if I kept reading about that stuff. I was counting the days until my ever eluding due date. Everytime I had an ultrasound the date would be pushed back farther and farther. The baby was not the right size for gestation. On March 15th 2001, just after 5 am, I awoke to a pain in my chest like I had never experienced before. It made me scream. My husband had to work in the morning so I went upstairs. I sat in my father's blue recliner and tried to focus my mind elsewhere, the pain was so intense. My uncontrolled whimpering caught my dad's attention, who was getting ready to leave for work and he came out to see what was wring with me. I could barely talk, but he thought it best he call the clinic for me. He tried his best to explain to the nurse what was going on and they instructed him to bring me in. I was admitted immediately after a quick blood pressure check showing sky high pressures. I was put into a dark room and only allowed to speak with one person at a time. TV was off limits, they said any stimulation could cause my blood pressure to go even higher and it was already at a very dangerous level. They called in some special doctors because my blood work showed my platelets were dramatically dropping. The magnesium sulfate I was on makes this whole period of time a big blur for me. I do remember being transported to another hospital at 7 am on March 16th 2001 after being told I had a disease called HELLP Syndrome, and I would be having my baby that day. My new doctor at my new hospital was all business. Right after getting there I was given Cervidil to start my labor. They estimated I would have my baby by nightfall. A few hours into my labor I started feeling very woozy. I don't remember a whole lot during this time, I was in and out of consciousness. The doctors decided to put my labor on hold until morning, and I was given a sleeping pill. They sent my family home and said I should just rest up for my big delivery the next day. Right after my dad and sister left and went home, I started feeling panicky. A nurse rushed into my room and started fiddling with the fetal heart monitor. After about a minute of picking up no signal at all she jumps on the phone in my room and starts barking orders. A team of people rush in and someone injects me in the thigh with a drug that makes my heart race. After waiting another minute or so, I get one more injection of the horrible heart attack drug and I am told it is to try and stop my labor. They tell me that my doctor is on his way, and that I am being taken into the OR for an emergency c-section. I kept crying, "why? What is wrong with my baby?" and the only answers I got were "DON'T PUSH!". I started to fell pressure and I told the nurses I couldn't stop, that I could feel the baby coming out. At this point I am being wheeled down the hall already in my bed, and we turn the corner into the brightly lit Operating Room. My arms were strapped down to the table, outstretched, in the position of Christ before his crucifixion. I remember saying a silent prayer, telling my husband I loved him and slowly drifting into nothingness. I awoke a few days later, with no recollection of the entire event. All the memories came back to me over a period of weeks. I had given birth to a 1 lb 3 oz (555 gram), 11 inches long baby girl. When the doctors had gone into my body to retrieve my lifeless little girl, they discovered my placenta was fully detached from my uterus. That is what caused her heartrate to drop to nothing. She was given CPR for almost 10 minutes and placed on a ventilator. My blood pressure dropped and my platelets returned to normal within a matter of days, as is the way of this mysterious illness. Little Hollie Isabela lived the first 13 weeks of ner life on mechanical ventilation and total parental nutrition. She suffered from numerous complications, and finally went home at 4 months old, weighing just under 5 lbs. At the time of this writing, she is almost 3, has endured several surgeries and lots of treatments, has speech and occupational therapy once a week and will be getting her glasses in one month. She has BPD (chronic lung disease) and has problems with oxygen saturations, though not lately. She has been on and off oxygen her whole life, but is currently off! Overall, she is doing great, and at 19 lbs, though very small for her age, she is thriving. This is a very long story as it is, but honestly it does not even begin to tap the surface of the bumpy road we took to get to where we are today. I am now a single mom, and I have a 14 month old son now as well, who was born without incident. For all those out there with a miracle story, share it, see how many lives you can touch!