My husband and I married late. Neither
one of us had been married before. We
wanted to try to have a family. On our
first attempt we had a miscarriage at
about 10 weeks. We went in for an
ultrasound and the Doctor told us that
there was no heartbeat. There was no
other explanation. She said, “That
just happens sometimes.” I waited
to see if I would miscarry naturally but
when I didn’t some weeks later, I
went into the hospital for a D & C. We
were pregnant about a year later when I
was 43. Due to my age, we were monitored
very closely during the first trimester.
Since there is a high miscarriage rate
for women my age during the first
trimester, we didn’t tell anyone
we were pregnant and just focused on
getting through that time period. We had
a CVS test and learned that the baby was
fine. I didn’t seem to have any
complications from the CVS. We completed
the first trimester on Mother’s
day. We still waited to tell people just
to be sure. By the fourth month even my
OB said it was time to relax and just
enjoy the pregnancy. I hadn’t had
any morning sickness or real problems
just some nausea.
Around 17 ½ weeks I had some severe
cramping. We went to the doctor’s
office. They thought the fibroids that I
had were deteriorating and told me to
take Motrin. The cramping stopped soon
after taking the Motrin. The
Doctor’s office didn’t seem
overly concerned. We listened to the
heartbeat on the Doppler machine. The
heartbeat was strong. Given what
happened during my first pregnancy, I
got great comfort from hearing the
heartbeat.
About 10 days later, I had cramping
again. I took Motrin but it didn’t
seem as immediately effective. Sunday
was Father’s Day. The cramping
subsided but the next day we went to the
Doctor’s office again just to be
on the safe side. We listened to the
heartbeat and again it was strong. I
felt fine and went to work on Tuesday.
The next day I woke up at 5:30 am. I
thought I had to go to the bathroom. By
the time I got to the bathroom the water
was gushing and I realized that
something was wrong. I woke my husband
up and called my doctor. She told us to
meet her at the hospital. We rushed to
the hospital. I was put in a bed and on
IV but otherwise left alone. We were
angry that everyone wasn’t running
around taking some emergency action.
What we didn’t know then was that
there was no emergency action to be
taken. They were just waiting to confirm
by ultrasound that the water had broken.
So, we just waited until the ultra sound
technicians arrived a long three hours
later. They confirmed the worst –
that I’d lost most of the amniotic
fluid. Our doctor then told us that the
baby needed that fluid to develop his
lungs so they couldn’t deliver the
baby or give him any kind of medication
at this stage to help his lungs. Our
doctor told us that we had two options.
I could lie flat in bed in one position
for a week, take fluids, hope that my
body would reseal itself and that the
fluid would re-accumulate. But, they
said this only occurs in a small percent
of cases. The hope was that we could at
least get through 8 weeks when the lungs
would be further developed and they
could use medication to assist the baby.
The second option was to induce labor.
Since the baby was so young, he
couldn’t survive. But, now that
the membrane was open, there was a
concern that I would get a serious
infection. The doctor also warned us
that there was a possibility that I
could spontaneously go into labor. If I
did, they would take no action to stop
it, even though the baby couldn’t
survive because there was nothing they
could do for him.
I stayed in bed for seven days. They put
me on IV liquids and antibiotics and
every few hours day and night a nurse
took my temperature, blood pressure,
white cell count and checked the
baby’s heart rate. I stayed in my
one position and we both just hoped and
prayed that we’d be in that lucky
small percent.
But sometimes my thoughts drifted away
especially late at night. Maybe if I
hadn’t been such a worrier, maybe
if we hadn’t gone for that walk,
maybe if I stopped working or stopped
driving. Everyday I thought of something
new. I just kept asking the baby to hang
in there. I cried to God “Please
let me have him” and to the baby
“Please just stay with me.”
After seven days, they performed the
ultra sound. There was no
re-accumulation of fluid. We had heard
of an experimental procedure to reseal
membranes. Our doctor said as long as I
was healthy, they’d give us a
little time to investigate it. But I
could tell everyone was very nervous. I
knew there was a nurse at the hospital
who had been over forty and pregnant and
had died after waiting to see if her
ruptured membranes would reseal.
That was a very difficult night. I
didn’t sleep. I couldn’t
accept that the baby was completely
fine; he just needed eight weeks. Since
the baby was fine, I felt like my body
had betrayed him by not retaining the
fluid. I kept apologizing to our baby
and telling him that I was sorry I had
failed him. As I calmed down, I felt the
baby kick for the first time. I thought
he was saying, “Please help me.
Please do something.”
The next day my temperature spiked over
100 and my white cell count shot up. The
doctor told me that I had no more
options. Even though at times panic had
crept in and my mind wandered to the
other possibilities, I realized that I
had never believed it would end this
way. The nurses rolled me on the bed to
the delivery room. They tried to put me
in the quietest, most removed room but I
could still hear babies crying as they
were delivered. My doctor induced labor.
About ten hours later I delivered our
son. I wasn’t prepared for how
perfect he would be. He was just tiny.
His chest and feet were moving. We held
him until he left us 45 minutes later.
We named him Levi. Levi was my
husband’s great grandfather and we
liked the name. We hadn’t picked a
name for him before coming to the
hospital but in the hospital we took to
calling him little Levi.
I don’t think I understood how
much I already felt like a parent even
before Levi was born. The pastor at the
hospital said that the church says life
begins at conception, but he thinks of
it as you become a parent when you start
to have hopes and dreams for your child.
I can’t get over those lost hopes.
And, I still can’t help feeling
like I failed Levi and my husband. I
can’t keep from thinking that
there was something I did or failed to
do. Levi was so perfect I just felt that
maybe I just wasn’t good enough to
deserve him.
We talked to two obstetricians and a
fertility specialist. No doctor can say
with certainty what happened but they
all think the best theory is the
fibroids. They say fibroids can put you
into premature labor but I wasn’t
dilated when I was at the hospital.
Sometimes I feel like they are just an
easy excuse. I had a CVS test, I had a
fender bender car accident sometime
earlier. But, given the timing, no
doctor thinks it was those incidents.
When I had the cramping, the
doctor’s office said I could
continue my activities but take it easy.
Now I wish I had just stayed in bed. It
never occurred to me.
I can’t believe we got past all
the age related barriers only to have
something else happen. I already felt
like I was pushing it trying to have a
baby at my age. I thought Levi was to be
our miracle and I was so grateful. All
my doctors said they’d be willing
to work with us to try aggressively
again, but that they can’t
recommend it without surgery to remove
the fibroids first. I’m scheduled
for surgery in a week. I’m still
grieving for my son but I’m not
ready to say that I won’t ever try
again and I don’t have a lot of
time. Maybe it’s already too late.
If anyone has any information regarding
fibroids and their relationship to
ruptured membranes, I would love any
insights. If there are any older Moms
out there with encouraging words,
I’d really love to hear from you.
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