jnr
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A few months ago I was so excited about my baby boy. I had been to the ultrasound to determine his gender and I couldn't wait to meet him, to see what he was going to be like, what things he would enjoy, what he would do with his life. I was so in love with him and I had yet to even hold him or feel him except for the occasional bump and roll. All I knew is that he was perfect and was going to be the best person on the planet of course.
I was at a concert on Saturday, April 13 when I started feeling what I thought were contractions. I was almost 21 weeks pregnant. After researching and talking to friends and family who had been through pregnancies before, I was convinced that they were Braxton Hicks contractions.
Sunday afternoon I went to the bathroom. When I wiped (sorry, TMI), there was a bunch of thick mucus. Of course, I panicked. I called my sister and she said maybe I should go to the hospital. I did, and after being hooked up to a monitor for 30 minutes I was told that I was just paranoid, being a first time mom and that it was just normal discharge. So I went home.
Over the next few days, I just felt so icky. I didn't want to eat, I couldn't sleep, I just sat there feeling blah. Wednesday, April 17th, I went to the bathroom and there was blood. Once again panicking, I called my sister. She asked me how much blood, but I didn't care. To me, any blood in the second trimester is too much blood. I made another trip to the hospital even though it was pouring down rain. I finally got there, soaked to the bone, and was hooked up more monitors. Baby was fine. He was really moving around in there and his heartbeat was perfect. No matter how much I tried to tell the nurse that the blood came from my vagina, not my urethra, she was convinced that I had a bladder infection. So this is what she reported to the doctor. So no checkup, and I was sent home saying to keep my regularly scheduled appointment for over 2 weeks away. I was sent home feeling reassured that they knew more than I did and that my baby was still healthy and perfect.
Thursday, April 18th, I woke up still feeling off. There was still blood when I went to the bathroom that morning but, since she told me this was to be expected, I went in to work. After being at work for about 30 minutes I started having really bad "cramps". I called my doctor and he said to go on in to the hospital and at the very least they could get me off my feet and try to get my "uterus to calm down." So I headed to the hospital, still feeling like everything would be fine. Maybe I would just have to be on bed rest for a while. I had heard of many people having to do that before.
After being at the hospital and getting hooked up to the monitors again, I heard my baby's heartbeat. He was still perfect and swimming around in there, running from the monitors like normal. They scheduled me for an ultrasound and they finally got to my room about an hour later. He looked perfect and I was so happy to see him again. I wasn't expecting to get to have another ultrasound at all, or at least not until very much later into the pregnancy. She recorded some information and took some pictures and sent all of it off to the doctor. I was sitting there contemplating what I should have for lunch when the doctor came in.
I was dilated to a 4, the sack was bulging, I was more than likely going to lose this baby. I could not believe what I had just heard. Not even 30 minutes ago I was seeing him on the screen, perfect as could be. They couldn't do anything to help me there, so I waited 2 hours for an ambulance to pick me up and take me to another hospital an hour away. All the while I was thinking to myself that there was no way I was going to lose him. He was fine, healthy, and strong. He was perfect.
On the ride to the other hospital was when the contractions really started kicking in. After getting to my room and having the doctors come in and tell me that I was going to have a baby tonight and there was less than a 1% chance of him surviving, everything was a blur. I couldn't, didn't want to, process it all. My only job in life was to keep him safe for 9 months and I failed him. He was perfect and healthy and strong, but I wasn't.
Cash McCarty was born on April 18th at 21 weeks 3 days gestation. He was 10 inches long and weighed 11.3 ounces. He was the most perfect thing I have ever seen, and I can just imagine how much more perfect he would have been if he could have stayed in the womb until he was full-term. He lived for 2 hours before he passed away, although the nurses and doctors assured me that after a few minutes, with the limited oxygen he was able to get because of his premature lungs, he had no brain activity. I have to hope that this is true, because I can't stand the thought that my baby spent 2 hours being cold, scared, or hungry.
Since this happened I have been diagnosed with an incompetent cervix. I still struggle daily with the fact that the only reason my baby didn't live is because there is something wrong with me that meant that I couldn't carry him. I know that this is not the way to think, and I'm trying very hard not to think that way, but it's a daily struggle. I still struggle seeing pregnant women, or seeing babies, or even toddlers. The only thing that goes through my mind is what he would have looked like or been like. Would he have liked sports? Preferred music? I'll never know and I hate that.
What scares me now is the thought of never being able to have a child. I know that there are procedures that they can do now that we know I have an incompetent cervix, but it's still so scary. I have read that doctors won't consider a cerclage until you have had 2 losses from an incompetent cervix. If that is the case, do I really want to risk another pregnancy to maybe have it end up the way Cash's did? It's not fair to me, my partner, but especially not fair to the baby.
I figure maybe eventually I will be ready to try again, but it will be a long, scary road that I am not emotionally or physically ready to take yet, and may not be for years to come, and I think that's alright.
I was at a concert on Saturday, April 13 when I started feeling what I thought were contractions. I was almost 21 weeks pregnant. After researching and talking to friends and family who had been through pregnancies before, I was convinced that they were Braxton Hicks contractions.
Sunday afternoon I went to the bathroom. When I wiped (sorry, TMI), there was a bunch of thick mucus. Of course, I panicked. I called my sister and she said maybe I should go to the hospital. I did, and after being hooked up to a monitor for 30 minutes I was told that I was just paranoid, being a first time mom and that it was just normal discharge. So I went home.
Over the next few days, I just felt so icky. I didn't want to eat, I couldn't sleep, I just sat there feeling blah. Wednesday, April 17th, I went to the bathroom and there was blood. Once again panicking, I called my sister. She asked me how much blood, but I didn't care. To me, any blood in the second trimester is too much blood. I made another trip to the hospital even though it was pouring down rain. I finally got there, soaked to the bone, and was hooked up more monitors. Baby was fine. He was really moving around in there and his heartbeat was perfect. No matter how much I tried to tell the nurse that the blood came from my vagina, not my urethra, she was convinced that I had a bladder infection. So this is what she reported to the doctor. So no checkup, and I was sent home saying to keep my regularly scheduled appointment for over 2 weeks away. I was sent home feeling reassured that they knew more than I did and that my baby was still healthy and perfect.
Thursday, April 18th, I woke up still feeling off. There was still blood when I went to the bathroom that morning but, since she told me this was to be expected, I went in to work. After being at work for about 30 minutes I started having really bad "cramps". I called my doctor and he said to go on in to the hospital and at the very least they could get me off my feet and try to get my "uterus to calm down." So I headed to the hospital, still feeling like everything would be fine. Maybe I would just have to be on bed rest for a while. I had heard of many people having to do that before.
After being at the hospital and getting hooked up to the monitors again, I heard my baby's heartbeat. He was still perfect and swimming around in there, running from the monitors like normal. They scheduled me for an ultrasound and they finally got to my room about an hour later. He looked perfect and I was so happy to see him again. I wasn't expecting to get to have another ultrasound at all, or at least not until very much later into the pregnancy. She recorded some information and took some pictures and sent all of it off to the doctor. I was sitting there contemplating what I should have for lunch when the doctor came in.
I was dilated to a 4, the sack was bulging, I was more than likely going to lose this baby. I could not believe what I had just heard. Not even 30 minutes ago I was seeing him on the screen, perfect as could be. They couldn't do anything to help me there, so I waited 2 hours for an ambulance to pick me up and take me to another hospital an hour away. All the while I was thinking to myself that there was no way I was going to lose him. He was fine, healthy, and strong. He was perfect.
On the ride to the other hospital was when the contractions really started kicking in. After getting to my room and having the doctors come in and tell me that I was going to have a baby tonight and there was less than a 1% chance of him surviving, everything was a blur. I couldn't, didn't want to, process it all. My only job in life was to keep him safe for 9 months and I failed him. He was perfect and healthy and strong, but I wasn't.
Cash McCarty was born on April 18th at 21 weeks 3 days gestation. He was 10 inches long and weighed 11.3 ounces. He was the most perfect thing I have ever seen, and I can just imagine how much more perfect he would have been if he could have stayed in the womb until he was full-term. He lived for 2 hours before he passed away, although the nurses and doctors assured me that after a few minutes, with the limited oxygen he was able to get because of his premature lungs, he had no brain activity. I have to hope that this is true, because I can't stand the thought that my baby spent 2 hours being cold, scared, or hungry.
Since this happened I have been diagnosed with an incompetent cervix. I still struggle daily with the fact that the only reason my baby didn't live is because there is something wrong with me that meant that I couldn't carry him. I know that this is not the way to think, and I'm trying very hard not to think that way, but it's a daily struggle. I still struggle seeing pregnant women, or seeing babies, or even toddlers. The only thing that goes through my mind is what he would have looked like or been like. Would he have liked sports? Preferred music? I'll never know and I hate that.
What scares me now is the thought of never being able to have a child. I know that there are procedures that they can do now that we know I have an incompetent cervix, but it's still so scary. I have read that doctors won't consider a cerclage until you have had 2 losses from an incompetent cervix. If that is the case, do I really want to risk another pregnancy to maybe have it end up the way Cash's did? It's not fair to me, my partner, but especially not fair to the baby.
I figure maybe eventually I will be ready to try again, but it will be a long, scary road that I am not emotionally or physically ready to take yet, and may not be for years to come, and I think that's alright.
i would be contacting lawyers too...
