***UPDATE***
Stellan is home now! He never had to be airlifted to Boston and gets to wait at least a little while longer for his surgery.
***UPDATE***
Stellan is going to be airlifted to Boston to have another surgery. This is probably going to mean being dependant on a pacemaker for the rest of his life but as his mom said "If he ends up with a dead AV node and is pacemaker dependent for life, at least he'll have a life."
Last night Stellan was actually SVT free for an hour and a half which was a nice break for him and for his parents. Please continue to pray for Stellan and his family, for a safe trip, wisdom for the doctors, success in the surgery and for a quick recovery.
ORIGINAL POST:
I know not many people read this, but for those of you who do, please be on your knees in prayer for Stellan. Long story short, he was diagnosed with heart problems at 20 weeks gestation and they thought he would die in utero, but he was born alive and without any of the heart problems he had been encountering. Then at about 4 months old his heart problems reappeared. Since then, he has been in and out of the hospital and had surgery. He's in the hospital now and things aren't going so well.
After what we went through with Logan, it's hard to see another Mommy going through this. Stellan and his family need prayers for health, faith, wisdom, and comfort in the coming days. Hopefully I will be updating soon to say that Stellan is doing much better.
Sunday, July 26, 2009
Monday, July 13, 2009
My Mission
One year ago today Doug's parents, Grandmother and Aunt came to see Logan. We had already been told that his kidneys were not functioning properly and he had started swelling up. When I went in to see him it was so heartbreaking I just cried.
Doug had to leave for work early the next morning so we had told the nurses that we would be back early to see Logan. Around 4:30am the NICU called us. They said that they wanted to prepare us because they had changed Logan's ventilator to a bigger one and his color was slightly gray because his oxygen saturation levels were low. Doug and I decided to go on to the hospital.
When we got there Doug noticed that his eyes were open and I think I knew right then that he was saying goodbye. We stood over him for a few minutes and then the nurse practitioner took us aside to explain what was going on. They told us that Logan wasn't getting enough oxygen and that they were making plans to possibly transfer him to another hospital that had a different kind of ventilator. They then showed us to a room where we could sit and talk. Doug decided not to go to work and I layed down because I was worn out. We called my parents and asked them to bring me some clothes (I was wearing my sweatpants) and the breast pump so that I would have them if we went to the other hospital.
Then the nurse practitioner came in. She told us that Logan was deteriorating quickly and that we needed to go in. She warned us that the nurses were performing chest compressions. It is all like a big fog to me really. I remember walking into the NICU and going over to Logan. Doug was standing behind me and I reached out to touch him. The nurses were talking and the machines were beeping but it was like I was underwater. I couldn't really hear anything. Until the nurses asked me if I wanted to hold him. I said yes and they got us two chairs. I sat down and they handed me my precious little boy. Doug and I were both crying and I didn't want to let Logan go but I handed him to Doug and Logan breathed his last.
The nurses told us we could go to the room and they would unhook Logan from all of the wires. They brought him to us all wrapped up and we sat holding him for quite sometime. It was a crazy morning and eventually we left with Logan to make the drive to Troy to the funeral home.
When I look back, the moments immediately prior to Logan's death were very peaceful. I knew he was going to heaven and that he would be okay. The hardest part for me was standing by Doug when he called his parents to tell them. I can remember his words and the look on his face like it happened 2 seconds ago. I don't think I'll ever forget that moment.
And then came the anger. I was mad at God, that he took my baby. I was mad at the chaplain, that he didn't come sooner. I was just plain mad. And I coped by planning: for the funeral, the cemetary, the stone.
I remember feeling like I should have said something. Like I should have yelled at the nurses to keep Logan alive or yelled at Logan to keep fighting. But I didn't say anything. Then at the funeral and the cemetary I wanted to rip open the coffin and just pull him out. I wanted to scream at everyone to leave me alone.
The past year has been hard. But we've made it and we're stronger for it. Yesterday at church we read the story of Amos who was called by God to deliver a message and then rejected by the people of Israel.
But that's not God's plan. This is the mission He has given me and I just have to do the best with what I've been given.
Doug had to leave for work early the next morning so we had told the nurses that we would be back early to see Logan. Around 4:30am the NICU called us. They said that they wanted to prepare us because they had changed Logan's ventilator to a bigger one and his color was slightly gray because his oxygen saturation levels were low. Doug and I decided to go on to the hospital.
When we got there Doug noticed that his eyes were open and I think I knew right then that he was saying goodbye. We stood over him for a few minutes and then the nurse practitioner took us aside to explain what was going on. They told us that Logan wasn't getting enough oxygen and that they were making plans to possibly transfer him to another hospital that had a different kind of ventilator. They then showed us to a room where we could sit and talk. Doug decided not to go to work and I layed down because I was worn out. We called my parents and asked them to bring me some clothes (I was wearing my sweatpants) and the breast pump so that I would have them if we went to the other hospital.
Then the nurse practitioner came in. She told us that Logan was deteriorating quickly and that we needed to go in. She warned us that the nurses were performing chest compressions. It is all like a big fog to me really. I remember walking into the NICU and going over to Logan. Doug was standing behind me and I reached out to touch him. The nurses were talking and the machines were beeping but it was like I was underwater. I couldn't really hear anything. Until the nurses asked me if I wanted to hold him. I said yes and they got us two chairs. I sat down and they handed me my precious little boy. Doug and I were both crying and I didn't want to let Logan go but I handed him to Doug and Logan breathed his last.
The nurses told us we could go to the room and they would unhook Logan from all of the wires. They brought him to us all wrapped up and we sat holding him for quite sometime. It was a crazy morning and eventually we left with Logan to make the drive to Troy to the funeral home.
When I look back, the moments immediately prior to Logan's death were very peaceful. I knew he was going to heaven and that he would be okay. The hardest part for me was standing by Doug when he called his parents to tell them. I can remember his words and the look on his face like it happened 2 seconds ago. I don't think I'll ever forget that moment.
And then came the anger. I was mad at God, that he took my baby. I was mad at the chaplain, that he didn't come sooner. I was just plain mad. And I coped by planning: for the funeral, the cemetary, the stone.
I remember feeling like I should have said something. Like I should have yelled at the nurses to keep Logan alive or yelled at Logan to keep fighting. But I didn't say anything. Then at the funeral and the cemetary I wanted to rip open the coffin and just pull him out. I wanted to scream at everyone to leave me alone.
The past year has been hard. But we've made it and we're stronger for it. Yesterday at church we read the story of Amos who was called by God to deliver a message and then rejected by the people of Israel.
12 Amos answered Amaziah, "I was no prophet, nor have I belonged to a company of prophets; I was a shepherd and a dresser of sycamores. 15 The LORD took me from following the flock, and said to me, Go, prophesy to my people Israel.The priest talked about realizing the mission God is giving us and that we have to be open to it, even if we don't think we want it. I cried all through his sermon. I felt myself thinking "I don't want this God". I don't want to be the woman whose baby died. I don't want to be the one to comfort other women because I've been in their shoes. I don't want to be making these bears to help other mothers of angels. Because I want my son here.
But that's not God's plan. This is the mission He has given me and I just have to do the best with what I've been given.
Thursday, July 9, 2009
God's Ways
While I do believe that God is always there for us, no one has convinced me yet that God is in everything we do. When I accidentally send an email to the wrong person, or fall and hit my head on a window sill (both things I've really done) I just don't believe that God is there, making that happen for some reason. But sometimes, He really does work in mysterious ways in our lives. Sometimes things happen that give you goose bumps and you know that He made it happen.
Yesterday, my boss walked into my office with another man. He asked me if the guy looked familiar. As I sat there looking at the guy I knew I recognized his face but I could not, for the life of me, figure out where I had met him. Then the guy says "I sat in front of you at SE200 training in Colorado". Immediately I knew who he was, Hank.
In May 2008, almost exactly one month before I was admitted to the hospital, I went to Colorado for some training on some new equipment we were getting at work. Hank was from Oklahoma and his company was getting the same equipment. What you have to know about all of this is that I went to Colorado the day of my 20 week ultrasound. I was showing those pictures off like a proud mama should.
When Hank walked into my office he looked at the pictures of Logan that I have hung on my walls and I thought to myself, oh boy, I'm going to have to explain all of this. I've explained the story many times before. Putting his pictures on my walls encourages people to ask and I normally enjoy telling them all about him, but with it being so close to the anniversary I knew it was going to be hard.
Hank told me that he moved to Alabama and is working for a company that may do business with us. He was basically here to do a sales pitch and so we went into a meeting room for that. After the business part was done, my boss left. And Hank, the guy from Oklahoma who I met in Colorado and is now living in Alabama, pulled me aside.
He asked me if the pictures were of my baby and I immediately said "Yes but he passed away". And then I got the shock of my life when Hank said "I heard that and I wanted to tell you that you are not alone". I asked how he had heard and he told me that he couldn't remember but that when he did hear about it his heart sank. "No one should have to do that" he said, before telling me that he and his wife had lost a son to a cord accident 10 years ago. Tears welled up in my eyes as he told me his story and let me tell him mine. He asked my son's name and told me his son's. He told me that if I wanted to talk I could call him, not to hesitate. I thanked him for sharing his story and sat down at my desk, amazed that such a coincidence could happen.
And then I realized that it was no coincidence. God put Hank in my life. He introduced us at a happy time and reunited us when I needed it most. Hank also told me that after their son, his wife had a miscarriage and then had fertility problems, which happen to be similar to mine. He told me that they went with Clomid for several months and then decided to give up. They already had a son before the stillbirth and thought that would be enough. And the very next month, they got pregnant with a little girl they named Anna.
God gave me HOPE yesterday through a guy named Hank.
Yesterday, my boss walked into my office with another man. He asked me if the guy looked familiar. As I sat there looking at the guy I knew I recognized his face but I could not, for the life of me, figure out where I had met him. Then the guy says "I sat in front of you at SE200 training in Colorado". Immediately I knew who he was, Hank.
In May 2008, almost exactly one month before I was admitted to the hospital, I went to Colorado for some training on some new equipment we were getting at work. Hank was from Oklahoma and his company was getting the same equipment. What you have to know about all of this is that I went to Colorado the day of my 20 week ultrasound. I was showing those pictures off like a proud mama should.
When Hank walked into my office he looked at the pictures of Logan that I have hung on my walls and I thought to myself, oh boy, I'm going to have to explain all of this. I've explained the story many times before. Putting his pictures on my walls encourages people to ask and I normally enjoy telling them all about him, but with it being so close to the anniversary I knew it was going to be hard.
Hank told me that he moved to Alabama and is working for a company that may do business with us. He was basically here to do a sales pitch and so we went into a meeting room for that. After the business part was done, my boss left. And Hank, the guy from Oklahoma who I met in Colorado and is now living in Alabama, pulled me aside.
He asked me if the pictures were of my baby and I immediately said "Yes but he passed away". And then I got the shock of my life when Hank said "I heard that and I wanted to tell you that you are not alone". I asked how he had heard and he told me that he couldn't remember but that when he did hear about it his heart sank. "No one should have to do that" he said, before telling me that he and his wife had lost a son to a cord accident 10 years ago. Tears welled up in my eyes as he told me his story and let me tell him mine. He asked my son's name and told me his son's. He told me that if I wanted to talk I could call him, not to hesitate. I thanked him for sharing his story and sat down at my desk, amazed that such a coincidence could happen.
And then I realized that it was no coincidence. God put Hank in my life. He introduced us at a happy time and reunited us when I needed it most. Hank also told me that after their son, his wife had a miscarriage and then had fertility problems, which happen to be similar to mine. He told me that they went with Clomid for several months and then decided to give up. They already had a son before the stillbirth and thought that would be enough. And the very next month, they got pregnant with a little girl they named Anna.
God gave me HOPE yesterday through a guy named Hank.
Friday, July 3, 2009
Father and Son
Most new dads hold their child for the first time just moments after the child is born. For Doug, it was 7 days after Logan's birth before he was able to hold his son. But he was just as happy, just as proud as any new daddy.
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From the beginning, Logan responded to Doug. Logan's heart rate would sometimes get too high or too low in the early days but when Doug would talk to him it would always level out. You could feel the love between them just watching them together. It's a love that's still there in our lives every day. Sometimes it's a painful love, but it's always there. Just as Logan is always with us.
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From the beginning, Logan responded to Doug. Logan's heart rate would sometimes get too high or too low in the early days but when Doug would talk to him it would always level out. You could feel the love between them just watching them together. It's a love that's still there in our lives every day. Sometimes it's a painful love, but it's always there. Just as Logan is always with us.
Monday, June 29, 2009
I left the hospital, for the first time in 14 days, one year ago today.
It was a strange feeling to walk out of those doors. To leave the nurses and doctors who had been my constant companions for so long. But we left with so much hope. We left knowing that some day we would be leaving for the last time with our son in our arms. We didn't know that day would come so soon or be so sad but we knew it would come.
I was so glad to be able to leave that day. But I would have stayed in that hospital bed for the rest of my life if it meant I could have my son here with me.
Just a quick note about this weekend, Logan's birthday was a very peaceful day for us. A hummingbird flew right up to Doug that morning and when we did the balloon release a big black butterfly flew all around us before landing in the garden.
It was a strange feeling to walk out of those doors. To leave the nurses and doctors who had been my constant companions for so long. But we left with so much hope. We left knowing that some day we would be leaving for the last time with our son in our arms. We didn't know that day would come so soon or be so sad but we knew it would come.
I was so glad to be able to leave that day. But I would have stayed in that hospital bed for the rest of my life if it meant I could have my son here with me.
Just a quick note about this weekend, Logan's birthday was a very peaceful day for us. A hummingbird flew right up to Doug that morning and when we did the balloon release a big black butterfly flew all around us before landing in the garden.
Saturday, June 27, 2009
Happy Birthday Sweet Boy!
I had been in the hospital for 11 days (having small contractions off and on that were controlled with different medications) when I went into labor. It was around 7:30 or 8pm when the contractions started and Dr. H started giving me the first of many labor-stopping drugs. She had told me the first day that she admitted me that when it's true labor there's really no way to stop it but the only way to determine if it's true labor is by trying to stop it. When the nurse checked me she said that I was possibly even less dilated than I had been when I was admitted. We took that as a great sign and I tried to relax and even sleep. As the contractions continued, Dr. H tried more drugs. Finally, I was given delalutin. That one made me woozy. I could only talk in one or two word sentences and I would wake myself up mumbling. According to the monitor the contractions seemed to stop and I was in no shape to explain whether or not I was feeling contractions. I honestly think that I was because I would wake up every few minutes but I had no sense of time so it was hard to tell the nurse. My parents even asked Dr. H if they should call Doug up to the hospital (he was in Troy at the time) just in case. Dr. H's opinion was that even if I was in true labor I wouldn't be delivering until the morning so the best thing to do was let Doug get some rest and for him to come the next day if I was still laboring.
Then around 2 or 2:30am I told my mom that something had changed. I felt a lot of pressure and like my body was pushing on it's own. She got the nurse and as soon as she checked me she said, "It's time to have a baby". Then, chaos. Labor and Delivery nurses, Dr. H, and the NICU nurses and nurse practitioner came running. My room filled with people as my nurse began to instruct me on how to not push and then how to push when the time came. You see, I'd never gotten the chance to go to Lamaze class so I was learning as I went (while on the crazy drugs I might add). My doctor got ready and she and the nurse were telling me "push hard because we don't want baby sitting in the birth canal too long" and then "push gently because we don't want to hurt baby". It was extremely confusing, especially because of the meds. But after 2 or 3 pushes, out came the baby and the first thing I hear is "It's a boy" coming from the nurse and then my doctor saying "It sure is".
My parents had called Doug and told him to come to the hospital a few minutes before I actually started pushing and he decided to call back to remind us about the camera. It was too late and my dad told him that he had a son. Doug was shocked along with the rest of us. We had forgotten all about the camera. Dr. H and all of the nurses were shocked by how quickly I had fully dilated and that the baby looked so healthy.
Logan Wayne Gooden was born at 2:42am weighing 1 lb. 10 oz. and measuring 13 in. long. After about an hour I was taken to the NICU to see Logan. Because Doug was not there yet my parents decided to stay outside so that Doug would get to see him first. So I was in there by myself.
You have no idea how incredibly strange it was for me. To be honest, I didn't feel like I had any connection to this little baby laying in front of me fighting for his life. They could have been showing me someone else's baby and I don't think I would have known it. You see, I don't think I had truly realized that I was having a baby yet. When I was admitted to the hospital I was feeling sporadic movement but not the pokes and kicks of a full-term baby. Then I was told that I was having a girl. We had been calling this baby Emily for over a week. And on top of all of that I was not able to hold my son or touch my son before he was wheeled away. I was given approximately 2 minutes to look at him but as I've said already, I was on some crazy drugs. So when I looked down at this tiny little baby with all his boy parts just hanging out there, I didn't have any real attachment to him. I knew in my mind that he was my son, but that "motherly love" just wasn't there.
While I was standing there looking at him a doctor I had never met was telling me all the good things (just one hour after Logan was born, he was receiving no oxygen, only breaths through the ventilator, which was a very good sign as far as his lungs were concerned) and the bad things we would be looking for (brain bleeds, the need for blood transfusions). She explained that there could come a time when we would have to decide whether or not to continue treatment. The nurses were talking to me too, having me take pictures and taking pictures for me of my hand with Logan to show how small he was.
About an hour later Doug got to the hospital and we went in to see Logan together. We had to give the NICU phone numbers to be able to reach us and we were each given bracelets allowing us to go into the NICU.
I stayed in the hospital until Sunday afternoon. We would go visit Logan as much as possible but I did a lot of resting in those first few days. I had been planning to breastfeed and the NICU nurses said that would be the best thing for our little baby but obviously he wasn't ready, so instead a lactation specialist was sent to my room to show me how to pump and every three hours I went and delivered milk to the NICU. On Sunday Logan got his first meal of breastmilk, pumped directly to his stomach through a feeding tube. Things seemed to be going so well.
And to tell you the truth, I relaxed a lot. I had been so terrified that something would happen to cause the baby to die before it was born that knowing that he was born alive and was now in good hands made me feel so safe. The doctors continued to remind us that things could change for the worst in a moment but instead they just kept getting better and better.
And just so you know, I did finally get my "motherly love" on July 1, when I got to hold him for the first time. It was an AMAZING feeling!!
Then around 2 or 2:30am I told my mom that something had changed. I felt a lot of pressure and like my body was pushing on it's own. She got the nurse and as soon as she checked me she said, "It's time to have a baby". Then, chaos. Labor and Delivery nurses, Dr. H, and the NICU nurses and nurse practitioner came running. My room filled with people as my nurse began to instruct me on how to not push and then how to push when the time came. You see, I'd never gotten the chance to go to Lamaze class so I was learning as I went (while on the crazy drugs I might add). My doctor got ready and she and the nurse were telling me "push hard because we don't want baby sitting in the birth canal too long" and then "push gently because we don't want to hurt baby". It was extremely confusing, especially because of the meds. But after 2 or 3 pushes, out came the baby and the first thing I hear is "It's a boy" coming from the nurse and then my doctor saying "It sure is".
My parents had called Doug and told him to come to the hospital a few minutes before I actually started pushing and he decided to call back to remind us about the camera. It was too late and my dad told him that he had a son. Doug was shocked along with the rest of us. We had forgotten all about the camera. Dr. H and all of the nurses were shocked by how quickly I had fully dilated and that the baby looked so healthy.
Logan Wayne Gooden was born at 2:42am weighing 1 lb. 10 oz. and measuring 13 in. long. After about an hour I was taken to the NICU to see Logan. Because Doug was not there yet my parents decided to stay outside so that Doug would get to see him first. So I was in there by myself.
You have no idea how incredibly strange it was for me. To be honest, I didn't feel like I had any connection to this little baby laying in front of me fighting for his life. They could have been showing me someone else's baby and I don't think I would have known it. You see, I don't think I had truly realized that I was having a baby yet. When I was admitted to the hospital I was feeling sporadic movement but not the pokes and kicks of a full-term baby. Then I was told that I was having a girl. We had been calling this baby Emily for over a week. And on top of all of that I was not able to hold my son or touch my son before he was wheeled away. I was given approximately 2 minutes to look at him but as I've said already, I was on some crazy drugs. So when I looked down at this tiny little baby with all his boy parts just hanging out there, I didn't have any real attachment to him. I knew in my mind that he was my son, but that "motherly love" just wasn't there.
While I was standing there looking at him a doctor I had never met was telling me all the good things (just one hour after Logan was born, he was receiving no oxygen, only breaths through the ventilator, which was a very good sign as far as his lungs were concerned) and the bad things we would be looking for (brain bleeds, the need for blood transfusions). She explained that there could come a time when we would have to decide whether or not to continue treatment. The nurses were talking to me too, having me take pictures and taking pictures for me of my hand with Logan to show how small he was.
About an hour later Doug got to the hospital and we went in to see Logan together. We had to give the NICU phone numbers to be able to reach us and we were each given bracelets allowing us to go into the NICU.
I stayed in the hospital until Sunday afternoon. We would go visit Logan as much as possible but I did a lot of resting in those first few days. I had been planning to breastfeed and the NICU nurses said that would be the best thing for our little baby but obviously he wasn't ready, so instead a lactation specialist was sent to my room to show me how to pump and every three hours I went and delivered milk to the NICU. On Sunday Logan got his first meal of breastmilk, pumped directly to his stomach through a feeding tube. Things seemed to be going so well.
And to tell you the truth, I relaxed a lot. I had been so terrified that something would happen to cause the baby to die before it was born that knowing that he was born alive and was now in good hands made me feel so safe. The doctors continued to remind us that things could change for the worst in a moment but instead they just kept getting better and better.
And just so you know, I did finally get my "motherly love" on July 1, when I got to hold him for the first time. It was an AMAZING feeling!!
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
23 Weeks 2 Days
One year ago today, at 23 weeks 2 days, I went to see my OB. I knew something wasn't right but expected it to be something minor.
When Dr. H came in to see me the mood was very light. She measured my uterus and used the dopplar to let us hear the baby's heart beat. Then she went to examine me and said words I will never forget "You are 3 - 4 cm dilated, we're going to the hospital". Everything from that point on was a blur. I went to call Doug and realized that I had left my phone in the car. My mom ran to the car while I was taken (very quickly I might add) into the ultrasound room. Because they thought I was leaking amniotic fluid we were glad to see quite a bit of fluid still in the sac. I was then taken back to the exam room to wait for the paperwork so that I could be admitted to the hospital. Sitting there, I called Doug and told him to come to Birmingham. He was only an hour away but it felt like forever before he got there.
My mom was with me as I was wheeled to the hospital, begging the nurse to tell me if my baby was a boy or a girl. I was immediately given an IV filled with magnesium sulfate to stop labor, a steroid shot to help the baby's lungs develop, antibiotics because of the infection in my uterus, and a catheter because urine output has to be monitored when you are on magnesium.
My dad beat Doug to the hospital and for whatever reason, seeing him walk into my room made it all so real. So real, in fact, that I had to ask him to leave. The doctor came to see me, probably more than once that day. I was told that no one knew the sex of the baby but that because of the amount of amniotic fluid they believed that it was the infection causing the leakage. I was also told that I would be on bed rest for the rest of my pregnancy. It was explained to us that if we didn't make it to 24 weeks in the pregnancy, there was virtually no hope for the baby but that every day after 24 weeks was a huge victory.
Throughout the next few days, the situation changed several times. After another ultrasound in the hospital I was told that I still had enough fluid and that I was having a baby girl who we named Emily Rebecca. There was a point where my doctor even talked about releasing me to my mom's house, just 10 min. away, where I would still be on bed rest, but not in the hospital.
That never happened. A few days later, at another ultrasound we found out that all of the amniotic fluid was gone. It was determined that I had been leaking fluid the whole time and that now it was empty. I was told that the fluid could build back up but the chances were slim. Dr. H decided that the best course of action was to keep me in the hospital where I could be constantly monitored. If at any point my health was in danger the baby would have to be delivered, but in the meantime, the best thing for the baby was to be inside of me, growing as much as possible.
When Dr. H came in to see me the mood was very light. She measured my uterus and used the dopplar to let us hear the baby's heart beat. Then she went to examine me and said words I will never forget "You are 3 - 4 cm dilated, we're going to the hospital". Everything from that point on was a blur. I went to call Doug and realized that I had left my phone in the car. My mom ran to the car while I was taken (very quickly I might add) into the ultrasound room. Because they thought I was leaking amniotic fluid we were glad to see quite a bit of fluid still in the sac. I was then taken back to the exam room to wait for the paperwork so that I could be admitted to the hospital. Sitting there, I called Doug and told him to come to Birmingham. He was only an hour away but it felt like forever before he got there.
My mom was with me as I was wheeled to the hospital, begging the nurse to tell me if my baby was a boy or a girl. I was immediately given an IV filled with magnesium sulfate to stop labor, a steroid shot to help the baby's lungs develop, antibiotics because of the infection in my uterus, and a catheter because urine output has to be monitored when you are on magnesium.
My dad beat Doug to the hospital and for whatever reason, seeing him walk into my room made it all so real. So real, in fact, that I had to ask him to leave. The doctor came to see me, probably more than once that day. I was told that no one knew the sex of the baby but that because of the amount of amniotic fluid they believed that it was the infection causing the leakage. I was also told that I would be on bed rest for the rest of my pregnancy. It was explained to us that if we didn't make it to 24 weeks in the pregnancy, there was virtually no hope for the baby but that every day after 24 weeks was a huge victory.
Throughout the next few days, the situation changed several times. After another ultrasound in the hospital I was told that I still had enough fluid and that I was having a baby girl who we named Emily Rebecca. There was a point where my doctor even talked about releasing me to my mom's house, just 10 min. away, where I would still be on bed rest, but not in the hospital.
That never happened. A few days later, at another ultrasound we found out that all of the amniotic fluid was gone. It was determined that I had been leaking fluid the whole time and that now it was empty. I was told that the fluid could build back up but the chances were slim. Dr. H decided that the best course of action was to keep me in the hospital where I could be constantly monitored. If at any point my health was in danger the baby would have to be delivered, but in the meantime, the best thing for the baby was to be inside of me, growing as much as possible.
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