Still Waiting

I haven't written in a while, with the holiday madness sort of taking over. My sister was never far from my thoughts, just haven't had time to blog.

She is still pregnant, due in 3 days. She has finally stopped working and is on full bedrest. Her numbers have improved, which is puzzling to me, but helps me take a deep breath. Her blood pressure has been good, rarely surpassing 120/80, but she continues to have headaches every day. I'm trying my best not to focus on asking her about her physical symptoms, hoping she can emotionally enjoy the end of her pregnancy. She is just starting to efface and dilate - she is at 2cm. That doesn't mean anything, really, and I just keep hoping that she goes into labor asap to avert preeclampsia attacking.

I know it's on her mind. She has asked me details about what day in my pregnancy various symptoms appeared. The thing is, I never was hypertensive until 2 days before my due date. That same day, my liver enzymes had already sky-rocketed, my platelets had dropped sharply and I was experiencing full-blown HELLP Syndrome. That's why I've been adamant that she press her OB to test her blood every week. Her OB has approached the situation with an attitude of "Well, we can do it, just to appease your super annoying, overly involved and paranoid sister." But the way I see it, if my blood would have been tested at week 39, they may have been able to catch me in an earlier stage of HELLP, possibly preventing the need for general anesthesia when I had my c-section, which continues to be one of the greatest tragedies of the birth of my son - a motherless beginning of life, not being held or nursed for 8 hours. I am happy to be the squeaky wheel if I can help my niece be with her mommy the moment she's born.

My sister's next OB appointment is on Tuesday, the day after her due date. Please send induction vibes!!! (This coming from someone who's generally anti-induction!)

The Anniversary

Today is the anniversary. At this exact time 4 years ago, I was lying in an operating room, unconscious, while a doctor feverishly stitched me back together trying to save what was left of my blood volume. My sweet husband, dressed in scrubs, was running down the hospital hallway with our brand new infant and a nurse from the NICU. It would be hours before I could meet, see, hold, nurse my little boy.

Krista, I don't want this to happen to you.

Lately, I spend my time hoping that HELLP doesn't come, that your doctor will induce you tomorrow. I daydream about the "perfect induction," one in which you don't need magnesium sulfate and the pitocin works its magic effortlessly and you are able to push your baby out, and hold her and nurse her right away.

Every day I call you and ask you how you're feeling, what your blood pressure is, what symptoms you're having. You're annoyed, yet grateful. You minimize your symptoms, holding onto the birth dream you've always had. I get it.

Sometimes I can relax and have faith in your doctor. Other times, I am so worried that she doesn't understand how to treat preeclampsia for the best outcome. Why isn't she checking your protein every week? Why hasn't she asked you to fully stop working? Why does she believe you when you say that the pressure that you feel under your right rib cage is just the baby's feet? Why does she act like she can predict the speed of preeclampsia's progression?

You have another appointment tomorrow, and I will go on hoping. Hoping that she will ask you to meet her in labor and delivery. You'll be 37 weeks on Monday.

Four years ago, preeclampsia changed my life forever. I awoke with my hands on my bandaged abdomen. I remember feeling the emptiness of my no-longer-pregnant belly, and the heaviness of a longing and a terror so fierce and primal that only a mother would know it. I remember screaming to the nurse in the room, "Where is my baby?!" but my voice must have come out like a tiny mumbling whisper and she didn't even look over at me. I remember looking up at a clock on the wall that seemed to be swaying back and forth, confusedly trying to do the math to figure out how long I had been under. I remember Brian walking past the room much later, and seeing me through the window, then bringing our little baby in and laying him on my left shoulder so that we could look into each other's eyes, like strangers, for the first time.

In the rest of my life, I exude really positive energy, and practically manifest good things all the time. I usually sort of expect things to work out, even if they're hard or bad. But this situation with my sister has my limbic system in full response and I find myself bracing for the worst. I find myself not trusting the test results that come out OK, or the blood pressure readings that are low. I guess it's because I had those same results and blood pressure readings and still ended up deathly ill. I am trying really hard to expect a better outcome than I had, to really envision a really good ending to this story.

Epigastric Pain & My First Tears

I am on high alert. I called my sister for my daily check-in and she casually says, "I have this weird pain when I lay down on my right side, but it's only on my right side, and it feels like bone pain in my ribs, so it's probably just my rib problem or the baby's legs."

Trying to stay somewhat calm and logical, I say "You know that is exACTly how people describe epigastric pain" which is one of the hallmark signs of the progression from early preeclampsia into full-blown-get-the-baby-out preeclampsia. Of course, she minimizes this symptom, which is what so, so many women with early preeclampsia do. I did it too. I get it. I even did it while driving in the car with her, in so much pain I asked her to press down on my belly to push the "baby's legs" down away from my ribs. I keep telling her if there was one thing I could change about my experience, it would be having someone knowledgeable walk me through each stage so that the whole thing would have been less traumatic. I would have wanted a team of providers who took every symptom seriously and got me to the hospital at the right time, not when it was nearly too late.

I tell her that I want her to call Dr. S, and that I'm giving her an hour. I have not done anything that firm yet, and have tried to practice my life's constant work of letting go of the things I can't control. 

I am not going to let my sister die. 

I just had my first cry since this roller coaster started. I have been highly concerned for my sister and my niece. But now I am terrified. She's 36 weeks today. This has been going on for almost 2 weeks. And with her symptoms progressing, and her minimizing them, I am anxious and scared that something really bad is going to happen. 

She called Dr. S's office, but she wasn't there, which prompted my sister to decide to wait until her scheduled appointment tomorrow. Ahhh!!! I can't take it. I really hope that she can accept what is happening to her. I know it's surreal and horrible to have to swallow the news that your first pregnancy is really screwed up, and that you might have a preemie, and that you're not going to get the birth you wanted.

This is not about my relationship with my sister, or our childhood dynamics in which I was the typical older sister, always bossing her around, not letting her make her own choices. I can hear the exasperation in her voice when she "gives in" to one of my urgent requests to call her doctor. I know this is hitting a really tender nerve with her - to blindly take my advice feels like I'm controlling her again. We've been going back and forth for an hour now. She is finally going to call back Dr. S's office and actually tell someone there what's going on to see what they want her to do. Of course, I wish she was going straight to the hospital, but it's better than her other options of calling her husband's aunt (and OB) or walking up the street to talk to their neighbor (an OB). 

My fear for my sister is easily spinning into anger at our society that this critical women's issue continues to exist. How is it possible that a disease that was first documented thousands of years ago, that has the potential to affect all women and all babies continues to have no known cause and no cure. I am livid that we live in a world where it's okay to let pregnant women carry on without clear explanations of the signs, symptoms and protocol for preeclampsia, and informed healthcare providers who will do everything they can to keep women from dying.