My Postpartum Hemorrhage

I decided to write about my birth story for a number of reasons. One- I loved reading them when I was pregnant to try and prepare myself for any possible outcome. Then after I had Addison I wanted to read birth stories because I had been through this enormous change and challenge and I wanted to not feel alone. Two- because I want to chronicle the aftermath for myself. They say, you forget the pain but I haven't forgotten the trauma of being that scared. Hopefully writing it down will help. So here we go...

I didn't have the easiest pregnancy. I developed gestational diabetes in my 24th week, so I had to test my blood 4 times a day, take a pill every day and count every carb that went in my mouth when all I wanted to eat was Big Macs. Then I dealt with two kidney stones. TWO. And there was the time that I fell down the last few stairs in the middle of the night. I was fine, but because of a big bruise on my back my doctor sent me to the hospital just to be safe. All in all, I realize it could have been much worse and at the end of the day I had a totally healthy baby, so this was all a small sacrifice to make for the greatest possible good. My fear going into labor and delivery was that our daughter's journey to our arms was going to be just as eventful. Thankfully, everything went smoothly and after about 14 hours of labor Addison Casey was born at 11:43 in the morning. After Addison and I were given a clean bill of health, all four grandparents came to meet our newest family member. Later in the day a few friends came to visit and at about 10 pm at night when visiting hours were over and Ryan and I had been awake for over 36 hours, I decided to Facetime with my brother who lives in Las Vegas. I was standing in our room and holding our brand new daughter when I felt what I thought was water dripping down my leg. Ryan and I both looked down to see a stream of blood coming down, and coming down fast. I shouted to my brother that I had to go and Ryan took the baby from me as I pressed the call button.

I know it sounds silly- truly I do- but I didn't want to get blood on the bed. So instead of sitting down, I bent my knees and tried to keep the still steadily flowing blood on the tile away from my feet. The nurse came into the room and her face instantly dropped. She asked if I could reach the call button and I said yes, and pushed again. When another nurse answered the nurse at my side yelled "CALL A CODE" and then to me she said, "Get into bed!" I fought my polite instincts to cause as little mess in someone else's home as possible and did as I was told, but I slipped in what I now realized was a pool of blood that spread half way across the room.

Because I gave birth in a teaching hospital (think Grey's Anatomy)- calling a code meant every attending, resident, intern, nurse, nursing student, med student, custodian, cafeteria worker and security guard in the maternity wing came rushing into my room to find me now forced into an exam position apologizing for staining the on call nurse's shoes. They quickly determined that my uterus had not fully contracted after labor, despite the delivery room whopping to the torso I took postpartum.

I will tell you, I have never been so scared. For nine months you worry about the health of your baby. And if you think about your own health it is usually in the context of making sure that baby is getting what it needs from you. People tell you "Women have been having babies for thousands of years, don't worry", but what I wanted to say was, "Yeah and until recently it had an incredibly high mortality rate!" It is completely natural to be worried. Most likely you will have worried for no reason, but at the moment when there were, no exaggeration, 15-20 people in my room- I thought, Oh my God- I didn't prepare myself for our daughter growing up without a Mom.

'I should have written her a letter' I thought. 'I should have given her a list of the things I wanted her to know! I should have made sure she knew she was worth giving my life for. I should have told Ryan that I love him and I know he can do this on his own." I know that it sounds dramatic but when your nurse 'calls a code' and you can see more blood than floor tiles, you assume the worst. "Complications happen." You think. "And I guess I'm the 1%"

Thankfully, after much simultaneous poking and prodding from a doctor rubbing my stomach, a doctor inserting a catheter, a nurse taking my blood pressure, a nurse changing the sheets while I'm in the bed (I know. Even in my state of mind at the time I still appreciated the impressiveness of this feat.), and a nurse- believe it or not- taking blood; I was 'fine'. Sometimes I appreciate the calm tone of voice doctors and nurses use to prevent patients from panicking, and then there are times when it seems like they are dismissing your feelings as crazy. As if to say, "Don't get hysterical. A janitor mopping up blood and pale faced nurses giving alcohol wipes to traumatized new dads so they can clean the blood from their clothes happens every day." In fact, it doesn't happen every day. I thought I was going to die while my brand new baby slept in the nursery after being whisked away during the chaos. It was horrible and I will never forget it.

It is also a testament to how amazing it is to be a mom because the minute this new bundle was returned to me, she over shadowed all that. She was here and so was I. I knew from that moment on that my life became more important because of her and that thought helped every time I felt I couldn't take any more of the sleepless nights. Of course I could. Because I survived two kidney stones, gestational diabetes, twice weekly sonograms and heart monitors, a tumble down stairs, and the blood and guts story above and I am now a mommy warrior.