Pregnancy Complications

When people asked when this little babe of mine was due, I told them August.  His due date is August 17^th, so I figured saying “August” was actually more accurate as he could easily be born two weeks before my due date or a week or so afterwards.  So August.  He was going to be born in August.

But events of this week have changed it a bit.  Last Sunday was a great day. We played in the water and sand of the Great Sand Dunes, a friend from Denver came down to visit and we went rafting (nothing too crazy), we ate Mexican food, we sat in a hot tub under the stars (I was careful).  It was a good day.  I’m really good at monitoring myself and stopping my activity when it’s too much – and it never was that day.  In fact, I felt more rested and less achy than I do most other days during my pregnancy.  So far, my pregnancy was entirely normal, so I suspected nothing.  An hour and a half after going to sleep I woke up in a huge pool of blood.  It covered me; it covered Jesse; it soaked the bed. It was horrible.

Naturally, I took a shower while Jesse woke up our friend, who happens to be a nurse, and my parents to see what they thought we should do.  Normally I’m pessimistic about my need to see a doctor, but that was a ton of blood.  So we decided to drive, and not take an ambulance, to the slightly “larger” hospital 75 minutes away, rather than the clinic-sized hospital 45 minutes away.  (I grew up in a very rural mountain community.)  Our friend put on his hoodie and shoes to drive us, and I was taken aback by his kindness. If I were the guest, I may have just gone back to sleep. But he said of course he would go and he would drive.  On the way, he also told me that nothing I did the day before should have caused this – not the rafting, not the hot tub, not the sand dunes, which was reassuring.  And it was so very nice to have him drive us as neither myself or Jesse were really fit to drive: I was so very nauseous, and Jesse didn’t quite faint after he saw me covered in blood … but wasn’t fully himself either.  Plus our friend has a great vehicle and was able to speed with ease the entire drive there – my car would not have been up to the task.  A cop flashed his lights at us in one town and we were pulled over, literally in the hospital parking lot, a second time.  The cop let us go, asking if we were with the ambulance call for a 20 something female from Creede, my hometown.  Apparently 15 minutes after we left there was a call in my hometown for an ambulance for a woman with a head trauma — it made me glad we didn’t take the ambulance as there may have not been enough people to take her (it’s a small town.…) and it scared my parents a bit.  But that’s not my story.

I got to the hospital at about 2am.   The bleeding had stopped. They hooked me up to an IV and the doctor decided to come in at her normal 7am time as I wasn’t in dire need.  The nurses suspected my bleeding was from the amount of activity from the day before and that I could probably leave in the morning.  Our nurse friend was doubtful.  Generally that amount of bleeding (am I saying that word enough for you?) is caused from the trauma from a car wreck or from falling down the stairs or something similar.  Nothing like that happened to me.

In the morning, had an ultrasound and the doctor noticed I have placenta previa – something where the placenta, what attaches the umbilical cord to the uterus, is partially covering the cervix – the baby’s exit out of my womb.  When a woman has placenta previa, bleeding like mine can just happen (generally with a lot less blood though).  And nothing the woman does can prevent or cause it.  Which is a bit nice to know, as it wasn’t me, but also a bit terrifying as I can’t prevent it from happening or know when it could happen again.  It’s more likely to happen again within the first week, and this little hospital wasn’t prepared for that.  I needed a hospital with a NICU and a blood bank in case anything happened.  So the doctor ordered a Flight for Life helicopter to take me to Colorado Springs.  I was pretty sure Flight for Life rides are only for severely injured people – like those in a coma or in five pieces, and I was awake and alert – so I didn’t see why I needed that.  But she insisted, so we asked for them to check to see if we still had insurance or not.  They said yes (I was doubtful) but I agreed to being transferred.  We asked if I could go to Denver instead of Colorado Springs, as we have more friends there.  Four hours later my helicopter arrived, and I was strapped into a stretcher and wedged into a spot in the front of the small helicopter.  The pilot was on my right and the two attendants were behind me.  They propped the stretcher up on an very wide “v” so I could see out a bit, and told me to keep my phone so I could take photos along the way  — very different from what I thought a Flight for Life would mean.  But off we went – over the Great Sand Dunes that I had been at just the day before, over the green valley of the Westcliffe area, to the left of Pikes Peak, over the Royal Gorge and up to Denver from the grassy south.  It was a fun ride.  But I couldn’t help but worry that I didn’t actually have health insurance and this ride would cost me way more than I wanted to pay, at least my lifetime’s amount of trips to Europe and back.  Plus the propped up stretcher was very uncomfortable… especially for a 1.5 hour trip.  But you know, if being uncomfortable is what I was complaining about, it wasn’t so bad.

We arrived at the hospital and the nurses immediately took me off of bedrest, stopped the IV and let me pee in the toilet by myself: it was glorious.  But I was still there and not fully sure why.  I knew they wanted to monitor me, but I wasn’t sure for how long or how severe my case was.  The bleeding had stopped; I wasn’t in pain; the baby was fine.  And earlier in the day I had thought I might even be able to go home.  But now I was in Denver.

The doctors ordered another two ultrasounds – which confirmed the placement of the placenta over the cervix; took many blood samples confirming I was very anemic and that everything else was normal.  The baby was monitored twice a day, showing a very healthy and happy kid.  I was given a shot to mature his lungs quicker in case he decided to come out early.  Everything seemed okay.

At this point Jesse and I were fairly confident that we’d be stepping onto an airplane back to Oslo in a week’s time.  The doctor in Alamosa thought we would be able to go and our interactions with the doctors in Denver seemed the same.  They said they couldn’t guarantee my safety on the flight, but that it was very unlikely anything would happen while there.  I still needed to stay in the hospital until Saturday, needed to have the IV in, and be monitored, but I could leave my room and even walk the grounds.  It was strange and not the vacation I had planned, but we were going home soon.

But the doctors still seemed nervous.  I wasn’t sure why.  On one morning visit with the doctors I learned why: this condition has the potential to be deadly to me and the baby.  With placenta previa, it’s likely I could start to bleed again.  If the bleeding is severe – like the first time – and doesn’t stop, I would need to have an C-Section immediately, probably need blood transfers and the baby would need to be placed in an NICU.  All of which can only happen if I’m at a fully equipped hospital (most hospitals in Denver do not provide all of these things).  So I am fine, but I could die.  The doctors stress that I need to be within 15-30 minutes of a hospital at all times.  So even when I am discharged I cannot leave the Denver-metro area.  I cannot venture into the mountains, or travel to my parent’s house.  This is why the airplane ride to Oslo is scary – I will probably be fine, but if something happened …. I would most definitely not be fine. That shook me.

Jesse and I decided to consider staying in Denver and not getting on that plane. It would mean a ton a paperwork, potential bankruptcy, probably no Norwegian maternity leave, total change of summer plans, potential rent in two countries, logistics of moving within Oslo this summer, figuring out Jesse’s work – taking time off, maybe working abroad, maybe less pay. There were a lot of possible negatives and challenges with that plan.  But staying meant staying with doctors who knew my case, all health care providers speaking English as a first language, being near family and causing them less stress, reconnecting with friends and the main reason: removing the risk of death on a flight.  So we decided to work on the logistics of making this work – Jesse emailed his work, we looked into the financial side of things, and told our doctors and family we were considering this.

Everyone was relieved to know it was a consideration.

So we worked.

We learned we had Medicaid at least through mid-summer.  Jesse’s work was incredibly supportive of him doing whatever was needed.  A friend visited and said we could stay with him and his family indefinitely, or at least for the next two weeks as they’d be gone for most of that time.  Another couple came to visit the very next day and said they’d been trying to get a house sitter or renter for their five-week vacation for months but hadn’t had any luck finding anyone, and asked if we wanted to do that.  Their trip starts exactly when we wanted to be out of the other house.

We saw God in all of these details.  Our needs were great, but kept working out.  A nurse was with me when it happened and was able to calm us and speed us to the hospital.  Out of all of the friends who could have come to visit, he was the only one that did, and he was perfect for it.  I stopped bleeding on my own, which may be the reason I’m still alive.  The hospital stay and helicopter ride are covered by Medicaid – which as we’ve been living out of the country for the last 10 months and this is no longer our permanent place of residence, is amazing.  This spring Jesse applied for a Norwegian credit card and just happened to use it for our plane flights, and travel insurance is automatically applied when you use a Norwegian credit card.  We didn’t know that. We have free places to stay until August.  Friends in Oslo have said they’d help with our moving details there  So many things have worked out and are working out, more so than we could possibly do on own own.  God is in these details.

During this time of deciding whether we should stay or not, we had a new doctor who had a slightly different take on my case.  She said that yes, while she agreed I could fly and probably nothing would happen, something could.  And even if she was on that flight and the worst happened and she knew exactly what needed to happen to save my life she wouldn’t be able to help.  Without an operating room for a C-section, a NICU, and a blood bank, my life and the life of my child would be at risk.  If the worst were to happen in that 12 hours, we could both die.

So we decided to stay.

We didn’t know about the financial side of things— and still don’t fully.  And that’s a bit scary.  It’s hard knowing that here, if our Medicaid stops and we have to pay for a complicated birth plus prenatal and postpartum care out of pocket we might face bankruptcy; while in Norway all of that would be covered and I would also receive maternity leave.  It’s possible we will still have Medicaid, but we still don’t know about that.  Since making the decision to stay, we’ve learned that Norway will cover the cost of the birth if needed, but nothing else.  We also applied for maternity leave a few weeks ago, and that money is now in my bank account, but I don’t know if I am actually entitled to it if I’m not giving birth in Norway.  But before knowing even those details, we decided to stay and hope and pray and have faith that God will continue to be in these details of this situation.

So that’s it.  The short version is I’m fine, but if things go badly, both I and the baby could die.

I was discharged on Saturday and Jesse and I had a lovely date at my favorite restaurant.  Elsie came with my parents that afternoon and clung to me for 10 very sweet minutes.  We had a slow week of parks and thrift stores and nothingness.  I thought that was what the rest of the summer would be like.  I made plans for the weekend and for the rest of the summer.

…

But they didn’t happen.  Friday morning, I had a small bleed and went to the hospital to have them check it out.  We were going to go to a splash pad that day, so we brought along swimsuits and towels for afterwards.  But the doctor said I’m staying.  For a week.  It’s protocol for placenta previa patients to stay for seven days on the second bleed as you are more likely to bleed again within that time.  I thought because it was so little we’d be at the hospital for a few hours, max a day.  But no.  They gave me the same room as before, put in an IV and so here I am.  That first day was rough.  I did not want to be here.  I was here and monitored over the weekend and everything was fine – baby is great, I have no other issues so they are actually letting me go a few days early.  But if anything happens again, I will be here for the duration of my pregnancy.

I’m not sure what the rest of my pregnancy will look like.  I know I will stay near a hospital.  I know I am going to take this summer easy.  I am trying to become okay with the possibility that I’ll need to be in the hospital for the rest of the summer, which is not my favorite idea.  But I’d much rather be okay and in the hospital until August than the alternative.  I have friends and family who have already visited and watched Elsie and brought food and are praying and I know that will continue.   I am so grateful for all of it and for all of you.  Thank you.

So there’s my story.  We’re fine.  I think we’ll continue to be.  It’s just scary that something horrible could happen.  The first night out of the hospital last time both Jesse and I were really nervous and I think we’ll be nervous again tonight if I am discharged.  As much as I don’t like being there, it’s really nice to know I am very well taken care of.  Doctors will literally come running if needed (and they did when Elsie pulled the emergency cord in the bathroom a few days ago.  Whoops!)  So despite feeling trapped, I am grateful.   I’m grateful to be at the best hospital in Colorado.  I’m grateful for all of the details that are just working out, as if by the hand of God, and I do believe he’s behind them.

If you’ve been praying, thank you.  God really is here.

 

Elsie’s favorite thing about the hospital is getting a new bracelet everyday and the fridge stocked with juice.

Discharge lunch at my favorite restaurant.