Not here, not now...

Thursday evening arrived and I packed my bags for the hotel stay in Cincinnati because our appointment was at 7:30am the next morning. I didn’t sleep much that night. The bed was uncomfortable; I was nervous, yet excited. I woke up in the morning ready to go and felt so blessed that this doctor had agreed to this experimental procedure. We arrived at the hospital and were given another ultrasound. Again, those words: No Fluid. This time, they had little effect because the amnioinfussion was going to solve my problem. I lay on the table confidently watching the doctor, his intern, the nurse and the ultrasound tech unpacking the tools for the procedure. I don't remember being scared but rather optimistic. Even after the risks of the procedure were explained, I never questioned my decision to continue nor did I look at Chad to make sure that we were still in agreement to continue with it. Infection and inducing labor were mentioned but this had to be the answer to our prayers and I could see no other outcome. Thoughts of my healthy, happy little girl danced in my head as I stared at her on the ultrasound.

The needle that entered my belly didn’t hurt nearly as bad as I had expected. I carefully watched the ultrasound monitor as the fluid was being injected and suddenly, I felt a huge nudge that came from inside my belly. Excitedly, I looked at the ultrasound tech and said “I just felt her move!” and she confirmed that she felt it as well. I glanced over at Chad and I felt very sorry for him. Had he been standing with his hand on my belly, he would have felt that. Had so many people not been blocking his view, he may even have seen it. Once all the fluid was injected, the dye was put in. In the blink of an eye, I felt that feeling again…the gush. I swallowed hard, screamed really loud in my head and looked at the doctor “It’s all running out.” I stammered to say. The ultrasound tech immediately became interested in one area of the screen. The doctor looked at me and stated that he believed I had a prolapsed uterus or amniotic bag and that I was 3 cm dilated. They sent someone to get the tools they needed to examine me. My mind raced and I suddenly imagined myself being forced to give up my baby. “Not here, not now…” I begged of God. I don’t think I took another breath until he said that I was not dilated and nothing was prolapsed. The fluid that came out was clear, meaning that the dye didn't have any time to mix with the fluid before it leaked out. However, what it did mean was that the 3 cm gap was actually the hole in the amniotic sac; Much too big to repair itself and much too big for the amniopatch to work. The doctor told me that I needed strict bed rest, fluids and weekly ultrasounds. I was sent for a shot of RhoGam and more blood work. At this point, I was 19 weeks pregnant and if I could make it to 24 weeks then I would be admitted to Good Samaritan and started on IV fluids and antibiotics and Parker would be given steroids to help with her lung development. Our goal was to get her to 32 weeks. I left the hospital feeling defeated. I think I cried nearly all the way home. I tried so hard to be strong for Chad and keep my sobs quiet and my tears hidden. I made plans to beg my OB for a catheter and IV fluids at home so that I didn't even need to get out of bed. I would get a home health care nurse to change them and exercise my legs. Whatever I needed to do, no matter the cost.... I had to find a way to save my daughter.

We arrived home and I crawled back into bed and fell asleep. Chad took a nap before going in for a short shift at work. He left for work and I finally had some time alone. I spent it crying, bawling actually, yelling and blaming, begging and pleading with God and telling Parker how sorry I was that this was happening to us. At that moment, I realized that I had never hit that low of a spot in my life before. The cramping that I had been feeling on and off all day was now getting stronger. The pain in my back was nearly unbearable and I felt that my body had nothing left to give. I didn’t feel like that when I left the hospital, something changed while I was asleep and even though I wasn’t completely aware of what, I just knew. I pulled myself back together shortly before my mom came over w/ Jarod. I didn’t tell her how I was feeling. Every sip of fluid I took choked me. I swallowed for Parker knowing that my body wasn’t going to retain it. My temperature had been normal at the hospital, but now it was up to 102 degrees. I had taken Tylenol earlier but it wasn't helping the fever or the back pain. Chad arrived home shortly before midnight and I told him that I was crampy but I didn’t tell him that I knew this would be the last night I would spend pregnant.

I didn’t get any sleep. My mind wandered and my heart ached. I stared at Chad in the glow of the television wondering if he would ever be able to look at me the same. When I could no longer ignore the contractions, I started timing them. They were 3 minutes apart by 9am. When I took a shower, I realized that my baby bump was gone; my belly button was back and my stomach was long, hard and flat. I woke Chad up and to tell him that my contractions were close and it was time to go to the hospital. Every pregnant women wonders when she will be able to softly say to her husband “It’s time to go…” but I wasn’t ready to say it. It came out choked in tears. As we left the house, I asked to stop at Wal-Mart so that we could buy a baby doll outfit, knowing that Parker would never fit in anything hanging in her closet. Chad hesitated for a moment, wanting to tell me that it would be okay and we wouldn’t need it but I think he knew that wasn’t true this time. The selection was horrible, the clothes were poorly made and no one should have to shop for their daughter’s first outfit in the toy aisle. I cried for Parker between contractions on the car ride to the hospital. I couldn't cry over the pain because my heart ached so much more than my body. I begged God to prove me wrong and make my labor stop.