Wednesday, December 31, 2014

Our Story Part III

It's Wednesday, February 5th and Indi was back to moving like normal and was her active self. I remember talking to a friend about my feelings of being nervous about her staying inside of me and that if she was in a poisoned environment, she should be out of me. That, even though she would be early and there are dangers to that, she would've been safer out of me than inside of me. That was my gut/motherly instinct/whatever you want to call it. I resolved that, if, by the end of the day, this instinct was still gnawing at me, that I would call the next day and voice my concerns and make sure my nurse and doctor took me seriously.

Later in the afternoon my mother-in-law called me to check in and talk about the results from my tests the day before. I put the phone on speaker and set it on my belly. Indi was kicking and hiccupping like crazy and I loved to see my phone bounce like it was on a trampoline. She seemed happy and content. I remember feeling like maybe things were going to be ok but I still couldn't shake my worry completely.
How can one fully trust their feelings about something when they've never been in this situation before? I didn't know my own power or rights to what I could and couldn't decide for myself and my baby. I should've pushed harder and demanded that they induce me. But legally, how could they trust my "motherly instincts" over their "educated guesses?"

That night, Andy came home around 6pm and I became slightly worried that, after talking to him about my day and Indira, I had realized I hadn't really felt her move too much for maybe, about a half hour to 45 minutes. Which, in regular baby life, half hour breaks with no movement is normal. So my brain wasn't on alert yet.
I was hungry and didn't feel like cooking nor was I patient enough to wait for Andy to cook dinner and I wanted a burger and knew for my sanity that I needed to do something to get her moving to calm my mind. So I finally got dressed for the day and we left for Five Guys in American Fork. (Knowing what I know now, and what was really going on inside of me at the time, I'll never be able to eat at that Five Guys again. In fact, every time I drive by it, I get a pit in my stomach and feel like I might throw up.) I'll never forget sitting there talking with Andy about our hopes and fears. So much excitement and fear and anticipation all balled up in two human beings. One little human was going to bend our entire lives.
 I drank a root beer because cold bubbly beverages usually got her kickin'. Once we ate and were on our way home, I still couldn't feel her moving. Real fear started to creep in but I was still in a little denial. I'd already had so many issues with my pregnancy and had been sent to the ER so many times with nothing actually wrong that I just thought this would be another false alarm. I got home and called my mom with my worries. Andy needed to go to Home Depot to get a few things for Indi's room. I decided to hop in the shower to have the warm water run over my belly. She never seemed to like that much and would push back fairly powerfully whenever I was in the shower. Or maybe it was her way of telling me she loved the warm water just as much as I did and was excited to be with me in that moment.
 I hopped in before Andy left and really got scared. Standing there in the water with Andy standing next to the tub, I began to cry but I insisted that he went to Home Depot. I think I insisted on it because I was trying to force the situation to be normal and that nothing was wrong. So he left.
I called my mom again and she told me to call the emergency answering service at my Ob's office.
I explained my situation, that I had been told to monitor Indi's movements every two hours and I hadn't felt her move since about 5:30 and it was now 8:30. She immediately told me to go to labor and delivery.
I frantically called Andy home and told my parents to meet us at the hospital.

Andy and I walked hand and hand into the hospital and I felt sick to my stomach. As we stood in the elevator on our way up to labor and delivery I tried to reassure ourselves. I said, "This isn't going to be anything. Watch, we'll be going home tonight, just fine."
We were greeted by a nurse who took us to a room just off to the right of the nurse's station. She started to get set up to put the heart monitor on me and my parents showed up. There were two nurses in the room and in the same moment that she put that heart monitor to my belly, I knew Indi was really gone. The monitor was quiet, a stark contrast to the day before when I got a non-stress test and Indi's heart beat was blaring through the monitor. It was the most loud quiet moment of my life. I felt my heart explode into a million pieces. I felt so completely out of control. That there was no good in the world and that my immediate pain was so consuming that I felt it would never end. That I would never be happy again.
The nurse frantically tried to find a heart beat and I could see the nurse's hand had started to shake as she moved the monitor around trying to pick up any sound that she could. She looked at me with fear and sadness in her eyes and said that she needed to get the doctor.
She left the room and every sad emotion a human could possibly have, smashed into myself, Andy, and my mom and dad. I honestly cannot even describe the despair that engulfed me. When someone says that they feel like their world is imploding in on them or crumbling all around them, that is how I felt. In those moments, absolutely nothing in my life mattered. Everything was wrong.

Dr. Haskett, the Ob on-call for Legacy ObGYN, entered the room a few minutes later and continued in vain to find a heart beat. He told us that he was picking up something faint and wanted to move us to another room to get an ultrasound just to be clear. For a matter of probably two seconds I had the smallest glimmer of hope but that hope was almost simultaneously replaced by knowledge that it was my own heart beat he was picking up. 
We moved over to the other room where he began the ultrasound. Within a minute he pointed to the screen and said, "See this, this is her heart and it's not beating."
I couldn't look. I only watched Andy's face as he looked and I saw all the sadness and hurt and disappointment and anger and fear in his face. That was enough for me. I didn't need that black and white image of her non-beating heart burned into my mind for eternity.  

They put me in a wheelchair and started taking me to who knows where. The doctor had told us what was going to happen next in the ultrasound room but I didn't remember anything he said.
They pushed me down the hall and I remember passing a large family sitting in the waiting area that were obviously awaiting the arrival of what I hoped was a happy, healthy baby. I remember feeling their eyes bearing into me. I can only imagine the sight that we all were. Coming out of that room, the looks of complete and utter despair, sadness, and hopelessness on our tear stained faces.

The nurse took us to a large corner room on the same floor that had big windows lining the entire west wall. For some reason, in my head, I was thinking there was no way I would have to go through all the pain of delivering Indi and that she would come out of me in some other fashion. I didn't know how she would come out, but the thought of inducing labor and pushing her out was crazy to all of us. Within a few minutes the nurse began speaking to me about an epidural and starting me on Pitocin and the only way to get my little one out was to go through labor. I was not ready for that. I was not ready for labor. Hours earlier in the day I thought I had more time to mentally prepare for labor and bringing a baby into this world. So the thought process that I had that led me to realize she would be in my arms at the earliest, in the next 24 hours, blew my mind.  
About a half hour later I had my epidural in and the Pitocin was flowing. By this time not only were my mom and dad there, but my grandma had arrived, my brother and sister, and my aunt came as well. Those hours after reality had started to set in and before she was born were some of the worst hours of our lives. My family cried with us, took care of us and did whatever we needed. Couldn't have survived with out them.

The thought of sleep for the impending night seemed so far away. Luckily, I was offered an Ambien and my sleep was deep and peaceful. Nothing short of a blessing from my Heavenly Father to get me through the next day. Andy, however, sat up in a chair by my bedside all night long, rarely getting more than an hour of sleep at a time. My grandma had left earlier in the night but couldn't sleep. She came back to the hospital sometime after midnight and slept in the room next to us that was offered to family that wanted to stay there with us. At some point in the night, Dr. Haskett and a nurse came in and broke my water. When they started me on Pitocin, I was actually already dilated to a 1. My body knew, before my mind did, that she was coming.

1 comment:

  1. Neena, this breaks my heart. No words can even begin to explain how that must have been, I am sure. I keep telling myself as I read your blog and see your IG posts ... That I wish I could help make this better or fix it. Thank you for your example of faith and endurance in the most traumatic of trials. You truly must be so close to the Savior's type of heart and spirit to have been sent here and put through a trial that I feel is close to the one the savior endured.