The Waiting Game

I have writing this post in my head for the last month at least, but when you have a baby everything changes. But, she is down for a nap, sleeping peacefully thankfully, and while I could watch her sleep, I should write about my experience before I forget about it. The mind truly does let you forget about the hardships of being pregnant and giving birth.

I won’t say my pregnancy was the easiest thing I have ever endured. I think it was harder on me mentally than it was physically-- thanks Dr. Google! I was pretty sick the first trimester and lost 15 pounds. The second trimester I was feeling more human, but around 20 weeks I started weekly iron infusions because I was battling some pretty serious anemia issues. During my entire pregnancy I was having monthly growth scans of the baby, and everything was right on track. I got to the third trimester and I finished my iron infusions, my iron levels improved, however, looking back, things started to go down hill once I finished those infusions.

In early August I got a letter from my OB telling me she had been diagnosed with early stage breast cancer. Breast Cancer. I was so angry, I wanted to scream, in fact, I think I did. Not at her, but at the disease, that once again someone I knew personally had been diagnosed with this awful disease. And my selfish thought was, great. This doctor who I have given my trust to is going to be yanked away from me and I will have to see a new doctor. I should back up a bit. The doctor I wanted to deliver this baby had retired a couple of years ago. He delivered my sisters, his first set of twins, me, and my nephews. He was ready to go fishing full time. He recommended my current doctor and I knew he wouldn’t bring anyone into his practice he didn’t have complete confidence in, someone he would send his mother, wife or daughter to. Up until last year we had only met for one appointment, and while I liked her, I didn’t know her, not like my old doctor. I got to know her very fast though and what I learned was her work ethic was unbelievable, that she gives 150% to every patient and I knew she would fight the cancer with everything she has.

Anyway, I had seen her for a routine check up a couple of days before I got the letter and she told me she was just having a “little surgery.” Her words. That “little surgery” was a mastectomy. She also told me she would be gone only for a couple of weeks, so here I am thinking she’s having her gallbladder removed or some other pointless organ. Her colleague told me a couple of weeks later of the biopsy, the surgery, and the chemo she would be having as a precaution. Right on schedule she was back in the office seeing patients. That same day she told me my blood pressure was a bit elevated, and I blamed it on talking to my Mom was the nurse was taking my blood pressure, but there was also some protein in my urine, but not enough for her to be overly concerned. They re-checked my blood pressure before I left and it was still high. At that point I got to go over to labor and delivery to be monitored and get labs done. My blood pressure went down, the labs were normal, and the baby wasn’t in distress. I got sent home on modified bed rest and would return next week for an ultrasound and check up.

The next week, my blood pressure was OK, not great, and I headed to the high risk OB, who did many of the growth scans, for another ultrasound. She told me the baby was still measuring small for her gestational age, and wanted to call my OB and talk to her. I looked at my Mom and told her I had a feeling I was going to be induced because something is not measuring right. My Mom said I was worrying too much, but my hunch was right. She came back and told me it was time to have a baby. I was 36 weeks, 6 days, and about 8 hours away from being considered “full term.” I wasn’t ready to have the baby, and I didn’t feel like the baby was ready. My Mom had to call Robert, Robert thought she was joking, I was crying because I was freaking out, but I took a deep breath and headed to the hospital to be checked in.

I got put on the monitor, Robert gets to the hospital, and I’m told we’re in a holding pattern until my OB can get over to L&D. What I later would find out was she was calling America to get various doctor’s opinions on my and the baby’s condition. One scan said the baby had IUGR (intra-uterine growth restriction), the other didn’t. The blood flow, the placenta, which plays a factor into if IUGR is present, was normal. The only problem they saw was she was measuring small. She spoke to the high risk OB and while she wanted the baby delivered that day, she couldn’t argue with my OB that just because a baby looks small on an ultrasound and not in any distress didn’t mean she should be delivered. It was also a good possibility that if I had delivered that day that the baby would have to spend some time in the NICU and may or may not go home with me on the day I would be discharged. I should also mention that while this was all going on, we were having really bad storms, and the hospital was put on a Code Black because the tornado sirens were going off outside and we could of all been blown away to Kansas. Anyway, after listening to everyone’s opinion, I, along with Robert decided that we should wait on delivery. I immediately assumed I could go home, and my doctor said I wasn’t going anywhere. The baby would have to be put on a monitor twice a day, and I was to have several more ultrasounds. I finally got moved upstairs around Midnight, and tried to sleep. I didn’t sleep at all that night.

The next day my OB came to check in on me after her first chemo treatment. See what I mean about giving 150% to her patients? She said it wasn’t so bad, and I decided I needed to suck it up because I realized while I wanted to be anywhere but in the hospital, I was where I needed to be. I needed to get focused and find my inner strength for this baby I was about to meet. If something happened to the baby, because I would of rather been at home, I would of never been able to live with myself. It was truly no longer about my comfort anymore. It was also confirmed that day I had developed mild preeclampsia, but thankfully I didn’t have to be put on any medication. I was due to have another ultrasound the next day and we talked about having the baby early that next week. I was officially full term now, but if I and the baby could hold out a few days, the studies showed babies do so much better when they’re delivered 38 weeks. The goal was to wait nine days as long as we were both stable.