“D Day” (Delivery Day). “I can Do All Things…”

All along our goal was to get me to 34 weeks- to December 30th. The days and nights spent inching along towards that target date felt like a lifetime. And truth be told – there was not much I could control to help get us there. Except for being on hospital bed rest, not moving from my bed, and being hooked up to machines and monitored around the clock. Thankfully, (I believe) those factors helped, and we made it to our target date.

Getting to December 30th meant that we would be able to execute our delivery as planned and not under unscheduled emergency circumstances. It doesn’t mean that date was easy, or that the circumstances weren’t dire, stressful or emergent… But I think it’s important to express gratitude for the significant win that allowed us to get to our target date.

Getting to D Day meant that my planned medical team, specific surgeons, anesthesiologist, urologist, and other specialty doctors and staff were in place.

The OR was crowded that day – more on that in a minute. Successfully delivering our baby boy and helping me survive took a huge team effort- involving many hands and skills.

Let me back up.

On the evening of December 29, I had my last meal, drink of water, and was hooked up to a catheter & IV heading into the midnight hours. I was NPO (nothing by mouth), which I was slightly used to – as I was also NPO immediately following both times after hospital admittance in triage.

I was uncomfortable, anxious, scared, and overwhelmed. I went to sleep that night – falling into a restless sleep. My husband brought an air mattress to the hospital the night before surgery and he slept on that next to my hospital bed. As I had done so many days and nights before, I flipped through my phone watching videos of our toddler son- tears streaming down my face as I smiled, laughed and watched his smiley and squishy little face. I remember thinking, praying and wondering in the hours before surgery- what should I say to my family? How can I fully express how much I loved them all? Comfort and assure them of how I hard would be fighting to make it through?

After tossing and turning much of the night, I was woken up at 5:30/6 AM to get prepped to roll into surgery at about 7. My phone dinged and it was my twin sister who had worked the night shift – letting me know she and the colleagues at her hospital were praying for me and sending positive vibes as I headed in. She sent comforting words, and although I don’t remember them exactly- I remember they made an impact and I was so glad to hear from her at exactly that moment.

Staff started coming in to prep me in the early morning. My nurse, Michelle, who had been present when I was in labor with our older son and had been with us on many days throughout my antepartum journey, was working that morning. I have said so many times before that I was and still am so incredibly grateful for Michelle‘s presence. Reflecting now, at a time where healthcare workers are overtapped, stressed, overworked and pushed to the limit during a global pandemic…I remain so incredibly thankful for Michelle’s kindness, calmness and advocacy for our family, for me and my husband.

That morning, she handed me some anti-nausea medicine and told me to toss it back quickly. It smelled like grapes, and I thought to myself “ahh it won’t be too bad”. But I took her advice anyways and tossed it back like a shot. Thank goodness I did- the burning sensation of the medicine made me want to get sick. But I held it together. Shortly after that, Michelle handed my husband some sort of suit that looks like a spacesuit- to be worn to accompany me in the OR. He put it on over his clothes- albeit he put it on backwards. I remember him stepping out of the bathroom, and Michelle bursting out laughing. Explaining to him that he had it on backwards. It added a little bit of humor at a much-needed time. I would be delivering in the main OR – which was unusual, because moms-to-be usually deliver in the room or ORs on the maternity center floor. However, because they were expecting significant loss of blood, there was such a large team involved, and because of the risk of malignant hyperthermia – I was delivering downstairs in the hospital’s main OR.

A little before 7 I was wheeled down to pre-op. I was shaking and kept repeating to myself Psalm 4:13 “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.”

From there it was a flurry. I can tell you that I went from pre-op into the main OR. Where a whole bunch of faces in masks stared at me on the gurney as I was lifted onto the table. My doctor asked for music, and someone asked me what kind of playlist I wanted to listen to. I chose country music – because that’s my thing. One of the nurses held me as they begin work on my central line & medications. She told me her kids names – I remember one was named Hunter, but can’t remember the other one. She distracted me for a while – telling me stories about her kids and how they kept her on her toes. I appreciated what she was doing, knowing why she was doing it – but also glad to hear her stories as I knew I was about to become a mom again to another little boy. As she spoke to me softly, tears streamed down my face – me, powerless to stop them.

When they finally got my central line in, next a urologist came in to place stents. My doctor explained to me that it was necessary because some of the organs are incredibly difficult to identify in pregnant women – with enlarged blood vessels swollen body parts, etc. So the stents were placed for my safety – so that as they did the surgery they would know where they were operating.

For a little while there, my husband was forgot about – he had to wait outside the OR initially. Thankfully Michelle realized he wasn’t there as they were about to begin the delivery, and she raced to get him. Shortly after, Kevin was by my side and my doctor told me they were going to begin delivering our son.

While there was a curtain drape between us, I could feel when they begin cutting during the cesarean procedure. I looked to my right and saw the NICU team assembled. With many pieces of equipment awaiting our newborn.

Again – a blur. At 9:34am, our son Kieran Robert was born. He came into the world swiftly, being lifted out of me and swooped over to the NICU staff. Someone crouched down by my head and whispered into my ear “Look over to the right- there’s your son, you got him here”. I started sobbing. At some point, they brought him over to me wrapped up, so that I could kiss his face and see him for the first time. Just as quickly as they did that, he was then whisked away in the incubator. And brought upstairs to the neonatal intensive care unit. I saw him for less than a minute, and then he was gone. My husband kissed me, and then left with the baby. He wasn’t allowed to stay for the remainder of the surgery.

From there, I remember repeating Psalm 4:13 a few more times, shivering so hard I thought I would fall off the table, and the staff bringing me a warming blanket. Then I passed out. When I came to a while later, I could faintly hear my doctor saying “ that’s it, we’re done.”

I was brought up to the PACU- the post anesthesia care unit. I floated in and out of consciousness. I remember seeing my doctor at one point – he told me the baby looked good, and that they had been successful in my surgery. They had used cell saver blood to mitigate my blood loss, and had to remove my uterus, tubes, and most of my cervix in order to get my placenta out. My doctor told me that it had been pretty far entrenched into my organs, and we narrowly missed it invading and taking over my bladder. Another small win – we caught the Accreta before it had the chance to spread.

As I lay in the PACU, everything hurt. My surgery resulted in an incision from roughly middle of my torso, stretching vertically all the way to just above my bikini line. That basically meant that my entire abdomen was sliced open and then stitched back together. It burned and I couldn’t sit up at all. I was propped up on pillows, and still hooked to many machines.

At some point I was rolled back to my room.

A major silver lining is that I did not end up in the ICU – many, many women with pregnancy complications, and specifically placenta issues, do end up in the ICU for days or even longer. I never lose sight of the fact that I got to go back to my own room the same day.

As I was wheeled back, I opened up my eyes to see my husband and parents in the hallway. The thing about Accreta is that it touches so many lives. Not just the mom and baby- it has a ripple effect on family + friends. They wait, worry and pray with you. It was so good to see my parents and my husband at that moment.

The rest of the day went by in a blur. And somehow it was 9pm at night, when I was finally able to go upstairs to the NICU to see Kieran (pronounced kear-an and affectionately called "Kier-Bear").

By that point, I had been disconnected from the IV and catheter and was put on several medications to manage pain. That helped me be able to move from my bed to the wheelchair, and my husband pushed me upstairs to see our newborn son. Really seeing him for the first time was incredible and surreal. I stared at him in the incubator. He was also hooked up to many machines, had many lines, and was quietly whimpering. It was heartbreaking, traumatic, but also so incredibly powerful to see him here in the world.

Even though we had been prepped for what to expect in the NICU, you can never prepare somebody for the reality of seeing their children hooked up to breathing machines, and being monitored. Or the sound of the alarms going off or holding their tiny, fragile hand.

The NICU experience is a story for a different day. But I will tell you that on December 30, 2016 – I felt like a total wreck, in pain and semi-conscious (groggy)…but on top of the world. Worn but filled with relief, from the journey of bringing our son into the world, and me surviving the surgery to do it.

There had been so many questions, so many fears, and so many prayers to lead us to that point. And all along, I had said, fully believing it and never more so then on that day- “Everything has to be okay. This is Christmas. The season of miracles”.