Margaret Evelyn
born 8/1/05 27w 6d
apgars 5, 7
2lbs, 15oz
14.75 inches
It was Sunday night, June 27, 2005, and
I had just returned from a family
reunion and a surprise baby shower. I
was 22w 5d pregnant... barely showing.
My first pregnancy. My 20w ultrasound
had shown the baby and her surroundings
were perfect. No hint of what was to
come.
During my sleep that night a huge gush
of fluid woke me up. I went to the
bathroom hoping I had just wet the bed.
I sat on the toilet and used the
bathroom and after I had finished the
flow of fluid kept on going. My blood
ran cold. I knew something was wrong. I
woke my husband, told him that we needed
to go to the hospital, and got
dressed.
Once I was examined in the hospital, the
doctor on call told me that I had had a
'gross rupture' of my membranes and that
I would go into labor soon. He also said
that at the baby's gestational age (now
22w 6d), the pregnancy was considered
non-viable. I'll never forget those
words as long as I live. Needless to
say, I broke down right there on the
bed. My husband was holding my hands and
comforting me but he looked pale and
suddenly ten years older.
I was admitted into the hospital and
started on IV antibiotics that night.
They scheduled an ultrasound for me the
next morning warning me that I probably
wouldn't make it that long.
But I did. I had no contractions, no
cramping, no bleeding. When I went for
the ultrasound, the doctors confirmed
that all my fluid was gone. My AFI was
0. I didn't want to look when they were
giving me the ultrasound. I didn't want
to become more attached to this baby
that didn't have a chance. The one time
I peeked, it was because the doctor
said, 'look, she is moving her mouth!'
What I saw looked like my baby gasping
for air. I was crushed. I had failed my
baby.
After my first 24 hours, I began to
think more clearly. My goal was to make
it to 24w, when the pregnancy was
considered 'viable'. Still the prognosis
was very grim. I was told it was very
rare to go a week with no amniotic
fluid.
That second night, I was visited by a
neonatologist, Kimberly, who gave me
very grim statistics about a baby born
at the gestational age of my baby. She
was hoping that I was wrong about her GA
but I had been trying to get pregnant
for months by using ovulation kits,
charting, etc. I knew exactly when I got
pregnant.
Against all odds, I made it through the
first week. All the doctors who made
rounds on me were visibly impressed. At
my second weekly ultrasound, my AFI was
1. I was not reaccumulating fluid. But I
had made it far enough to receive
steroid injections to develop the baby's
lungs. The doctors told me that it would
take two days after my last injection
for them to reach full effect. That was
my next goal.
That day came and went. Everyday was a
struggle. Now that the pregnancy was
considered viable, my biggest threat was
the risk of uterine infection. A gross
rupture is like a big open wound and if
I became infected not only could I die
but also the baby's prognosis would be
even more grim.
I got 10 days of IV antibiotics and then
developed an allergic reaction to them
after my course. I had the worst rash I
had ever seen all over my body. The
doctors were pushing me to take steroids
to reduce the rash but I knew that a
side effect of steroids is increased
risk of infection. I wasn't going to
risk my baby for my comfort. We had made
it that far against all odds.
And we continued to beat the odds making
it an incredible 5 weeks after my
rupture. Each week my AFI was up and
down. The highest it ever got was 2. I
was leaking continually.
One day the doctor who admitted me (who
told me we had no chance) made rounds on
me. He walked in, told me that he heard
I was still there and was amazed. At
that point I was about 27 weeks along.
He said that what I had done was take my
baby from having no chance to having a
fair chance if born and he was
impressed.
My new goal was 28 weeks. By then I knew
that the chance of my baby living,
barring no infection, was around 90%. I
was 1 hour and 22 minutes short of that
goal.
August 1. I had finally started to let
my friends visit me in the hospital and
that day a good friend of mine was
visiting for the first time. At about
half way through her visit I started
getting crampy and was wishing she would
leave so I could take a nap. I think I
knew something was wrong. I had noticed
that the amount of fluid I was leaking
had decreased some. And after she left
when I went to the bathroom, I noticed
some green (sorry, TMI) on my toilet
paper. For the second time in my
pregnancy, my blood ran cold. I called
the nurse on duty that day, Tina, and
told her about the green. She took my
temp (normal) and told me to use the
bathroom again in a few minutes and save
anything that I found unusual. The next
time I went to the bathroom, I was
leaking a dark olive green (again,
sorry!). And I called her again.
When I showed her my TP, she took my
temp (now 99.1). I asked her if I was
infected and she said that it was time
for me to have my baby. I called my
husband and asked him to come to the
hospital. I could hear the fear in his
voice.
By the time I made it to labor and
delivery my temp had jumped to 101 and I
was having contractions (brought on by
infection) about 2-3 minutes apart. I
was feeling bad, really bad. L&D started
an IV and pumped me full of two bags of
antibiotics and then a liter of fluids
before they started to induce me (my
baby was head down). But even before
they induced me, I was 100% effaced and
dilated 4 centimeters. About 30 minutes
into the pitocin drip, I started to feel
pressure. By this time my fever was
102.5- it had only been 4 hours since
seeing the first hint of infection.
At 10:38pm, my daughter was born at 27w
6d weighing 2 pounds 15 ounces. She
cried the tiniest little cry in the
delivery room and I was happy to hear
her and to know that she was bigger than
the ultrasound estimate. Luckily, even
though my uterus was severely infected,
my daughter's blood was not.
Our ride in the NICU was mostly
uneventful but very long- 96 days. I
brought her home on Nov 4, 2005. She is
doing very, very well and is the love of
my life.
I hope that all of you currently
suffering with PPROM or amniotic issues
can gain some hope from my story. In the
hospital, I was so afraid to hope.
Tonight, my heart is with you. I pray
for the absolute best for you all and
your little ones.
Miracles happen. They can happen to
you.
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