Hospital, Day 3

Sleep seemed impossible. The nightmare images and sensations continued. Horrible airplane sounds (which I later realized were the bed inflating—it was the sort that rapidly deflates to make a hard surface for CPR) kept scaring or annoying me. I looked at photos of Oliver on my phone. I thought about calling the nursery and asking to see him, but I knew Josh was too far gone to help me if I needed help. The knocks on the door and sudden floods of light startled me. CNAs checked my blood pressure and temperature, and for six hours, someone took my blood every two hours. I'll probably always remember the rattle of the big lab cart. One guy chewed his gum like it was a rubber ball, but I liked him because he got blood on the first try every time.

Dr. C came in for rounds. He no longer seemed frightening or Oz-like, and his clear-cut manner of speaking again felt reassuring.

“Has anyone told you the name of the condition you have? Wait, the condition you had. We're going to use the past tense because we're going to move past this,” he said decidedly.

“I think someone mentioned pre-eclampsia...” I said uncertainly.

“You had severe pre-eclampsia with HELLP syndrome.”

“And the major parts of that are the high blood pressure and the low platelets?”

“Right now, yes. Your blood pressure has been great, but the platelets are still too low. They take longer to get better, so we won't expect a major improvement, but they do need to turn the corner. I expect I won't see what I need to see for a couple of days.”

“Okay. The nursery nurse said I could try nursing today since I've been off the magnesium since last night...?”

“Go for it. Have you been pumping to start your milk supply?”

“No. I was pretty out of it until recently.”

“Good.” I took this to mean good, the mag was doing its job and keeping you from convulsing.

I appreciated his determination that I understand what was wrong with me. I also appreciated his letting me know that I wasn't going home soon.

This was the point when I began to understand what had happened. Mom had begun to read information to me the day before, but I had tuned her out. I was already so stressed and scared, and I couldn't process what she was telling me. She later said that at that point, not telling me seemed wrong.

I looked up the condition on my phone. According to the American Pregnancy Association, HELLP syndrome occurs in 0.2 to 0.6 percent of pregnancies. I learned that according to some studies, as many as one in four women die. Josh, impressively, had slept through Dr. C's visit, but I woke him to tell him what I was learning. We had both known that Oliver was in danger, but we had no idea how much I was in danger.

Josh went back to sleep for a while, and I was lonely. I called Melissa, who was getting ready for work. I told her everything—well, as much as I knew and understood at that point. She had had no idea until my mom sent her a text the day before. She only knew from Josh that I couldn't get an epidural. That was about all we'd known for sure, and our mothers weren't going to try to tell us in the middle of labor. I felt a little better after talking about it myself.

We ordered another bagel for my breakfast, and it took an hour to arrive. By this time, I was starting to feel rough, and I realized that I hadn't had any medication in the night. I called the nurse and asked for Motrin, but she said that wasn't in my chart anymore, so I had one Percocet.

Josh started helping the CNAs change my puppy pads and rearrange my legs and blankets. Oliver came to us soon, and I unsnapped my gown at the shoulder to try nursing him. He didn't seem interested and usually fell deeply asleep as soon as I held him close to me.

Josh changed a diaper for the first time. I gave directions from bed. Poo got on the new diaper, and I said, “That's okay; just get another.” Then, Oliver peed everywhere. Josh had to clean it off the floor when he was done. It was an eventful first experience.

My nurse for the day was named LeAnna. She had blonde hair, blue eyes, and a sweet voice. She had just transferred from another hospital. She showed me a couple of tricks for nursing, including rubbing his shoulder to keep him awake. I still couldn't get him to latch, and Josh had to use one of the formula bottles to make sure he ate on time.

Around the time Mom arrived, Oliver went back to the nursery for shift change. Josh had his computer out, and he helped me change some due dates for my classes and write an E-mail to my boss. I wanted her to know how serious the situation had been, but I didn't want to bombard her with unnecessary details. I felt very strange about the fact that no one seemed to know what had happened.

Everything got overwhelming. Someone was literally coming in every few minutes, checking my vitals, getting the trash, bringing stool softener, asking about how the nurses were doing.... Someone came in with a rattling scale and wanted to weigh me. The thought of getting up and balancing on that scale was pretty absurd to me. Luckily, someone else came in, and the scale disappeared and didn't return. I had been trying to keep up with asking for a new ice pad every two hours, asking for pain medicine every four hours, making sure Oliver ate every three hours, and making sure I ordered a meal an hour in advance.

My blood pressure was very high again, and mom looked alarmed. I turned onto my left side and began to cry.

“I have to do everything,” I said.

Mom answered, “No, let your subs handle it. That's what they're supposed to do.”

“I don't mean work. I mean here.” Claudia was right; I had to watch out for myself, and my mind just wasn't up to it.

“Josh and I can handle it.” She and Josh started talking about the timing of everything, using matter-of-fact tones to reassure me.

I imagined myself sinking deeper and deeper into the mattress and dark. This wasn't difficult since the mattress did deflate with most movements.

Almost two weeks after we all went home, my mom told me that, in the moments after I delivered Oliver, she thought, Josh is going to be a single dad. She'd watched my blood pressure numbers and seen how watery the blood was as it splattered on Dr. W. She thought I would give up after getting my son out, and she was thinking of how Josh and Oliver could move into the guestroom at her and Shane's house since Josh's parents have been busy with his ailing grandmother.

She asked me if I ever thought I was going to die. I did, but it wasn't in the delivery room. It was on this day as I sank into the mattress. It was a sudden realization. I stopped crying and started praying. I asked God to remember me, to keep Oliver alive so that Josh could have purpose and family, to take care of my boys, and to make sure that my family or Josh's helped them. I considered telling Mom and Josh that I loved them, but I didn't want to scare them, and I knew they knew I loved them. I felt peaceful rather than afraid. I think Oliver was in the room at that point, and I wanted Mom to hold him near me again, but I didn't speak. I breathed in and out slowly. The need to breathe that way was frightening and probably always will be because I had to breathe that way through contractions.

At the time, I didn't know why I felt sure I was going to die. But my blood, which had recovered somewhat after my platelet transfusion, was crashing. I had less than half the platelets and hemoglobin I should have had. I had twice the liver enzymes I should have had because my liver was still destroying my blood cells. I still felt that pain and movement under my ribs. Later, my mom called my grandparents to make sure they knew what was happening. She again thought I might not make it.

Something broke this thought process: probably more needles. I had a buckshot-like bruise on my thigh, possibly from my or someone else's holding my leg up during delivery. With my low platelet count, a fall, bump, or bruise could be dangerous.

I don't remember who told us about my blood; it was probably Dr. C. Once I got into a routine with my pain medicine (and stopped trying to be a hero and took the two Percocet I was allowed to have every four hours), my blood pressure got better. The doctor said I might need a transfusion the next day if I didn't improve.

A very kind and interesting pediatrician, Dr. R, came by. Oliver had had his ultrasound for his abdominal cyst, but we hadn't heard anything about it.

When I was feeling a little calmer, Mom helped me try again to nurse Oliver. She rubbed his sternum, and he would latch briefly before falling asleep. Eventually, she bent over the bed and held him to me without letting him touch much of my body. I was still lying on my side. Josh was behind me, supporting me so that I didn't fall onto my back. It finally worked! Since Oliver wasn't cuddled up to me, he wasn't falling asleep as easily. I'd actually fed him! Mom took a photo of Josh, Oliver, and I with her phone. Somehow, the light from the window made it an utterly gorgeous photo, like some narrative painting one would find in a Christian bookstore. I felt so relieved and content.

Dr. R returned later and told us that the ultrasound still didn't reveal much about the cyst. It isn't attached to anything, which means it's almost certainly benign. It's also very small. It may be a place where Oliver's intestines began to form and then formed somewhere else instead. Dr. R was working on getting us a referral to the head of pediatric surgery at the children's hospital connected to a major university a couple of hours away. This scared me at first, but she didn't mean that Oliver would have surgery. Dr. A was just the next top person to see. I was grateful that she was working to get us such a good referral.

The doctor wanted me to get up and walk, so Josh and a CNA helped me walk down the hall and back. I don't know if anyone would really call what I did walking, though. I was still bent over and picking my way. The positive side was that another CNA changed my bed linens while I was up.

Later, I was ready to take a shower again. I timed it to be about an hour after I took my pain medicine. Josh donned the swim trunks, and LeAnna wrapped my IV with gloves. I noticed that the box of gloves in my room was frequently empty. I guess I required a lot of hands-on work.

The glove wrapping didn't work out so well. Claudia had taped a bio hazard bag on my arm. But the shower itself went a little better. I still had my “purse,” which I hooked onto one of the railings in the bathroom. I had thought to go to the sink first and brush my teeth, something that hadn't occurred to me the night before until I'd used all my energy. Having a clean mouth felt rather fantastic.

I think I went full-on for a hot dog and fries that night. Oliver was nursing every three hours though it took a lot of help from his Marmee and a lot of irritating him awake. I was planning on keeping him with us that night, both so I wouldn't miss him and so we could start getting used to taking care of him for real. I was a little worried that we would have a hard time transitioning to being real parents after this strange experience.

The night nurse arrived and was short with me. She didn't know I had a catheter and obviously hadn't looked at my chart. She gave me a hard time about asking for pain medication and wouldn't discuss my blood work with Mom. Mom reared up. When the nurse came back, she told Mom that my numbers hadn't changed, and she had apparently looked at my chart. She was very sweet to me the rest of the night.

Mom left, and the night nurse told me that I could have a sleeping pill. I knew I hadn't really slept in a long time, and I was starting to lose my mind again. But I was terrified of not getting ice pads or pain medication in the night and being in awful shape the next morning. I didn't want my blood pressure to rise again. I hated feeling my body shake with every heart beat. I also had been set on keeping Oliver with us.

I had a bit of a breakdown. Josh had the nursery nurse come to get Oliver, and I cried about that. I told Josh how worried I was about everything else, and I kept crying and being incoherent.

“You've got to sleep,” he said. “You're out of your mind.”

I called the nurse and tried to explain my worry to her. Josh told me later that I made absolutely no sense, and the nurse looked rather alarmed. She said, “I think taking the sleeping pill would be a good idea.”

Josh assured me that he would keep track of everything I needed and make sure I got it. Finally, I took the pill. Josh sat next to the bed, talking to me with the kind of tone I use when I'm managing something. I think he said, “You're all right,” dozens of times. He told me later that I was whimpering like a puppy and that as I fell asleep, I started pedaling my legs the way I did in labor.