The Best, Worst Day of My Life: part I

So, I have been putting off writing this post for several days.  I don't entirely know why, though part of the reason is that I feel like this story of mine is "all told out."  You see, for about a year after everything happened I feel like I spent most of my time telling people the story. Partly because everyone around me had heard bits and pieces and were curious and concerned. And partly because I was still trying to process it and, for me, talking about it helped.  (I am sure that those who were around me a lot got pretty sick and tired of hearing the story over and over as I told whoever hadn't yet heard, but they were always patient.)    :)

So, you see, I am tired of it, and telling it at this point mostly just makes it seem like a sob story.
However, recently I realized that my story is important.  I remembered that right after I got out of the hospital, I spent a lot of time online reading about what other women went through, and that those stories gave me hope and painted a MUCH brighter picture of my future than the doctors did. So I am going to share my journey again.  And I can only hope that, along with raising awareness, my story will give some other woman hope.  Because I am a PPCM survivor...

The Best, Worst Day of My Life: part II

I don't know if every pregnant woman feels this way, but I worried every day of my pregnancy.  I worried because it took 4 years to even get pregnant, and I felt a little like a jinx.  I stressed about everything I did...was this good for the baby?  Don't get me wrong, I LOVED being pregnant, but I had wanted it so badly for so long, I couldn't help but worry.

So when I got to see that little dimpled face for the first time as the Dr. held him over the sheet after my C-section, I was able to breathe a sigh of relief like nothing I had ever felt before.  Finally.  Finally I could relax, because I had this perfect baby and the waiting was over. It was all smooth sailing from now on, right?  So little did I know.

Let me back up a bit.  It was a fairly uneventful pregnancy.  I had pretty severe morning sickness and lost about 30 lbs before I ever gained, but after that felt great!  There was also a bout with kidney stones for which I had to be hospitalized about 2 weeks before I gave birth to Logan, but all in all....nothing bad, worrisome, dangerous happened. I did end up having a C-section, but even that went pretty much according to plan. Logan was born in the morning and by the afternoon I was actually feeling really good. Everything was like a dream. Here was my new baby boy, who was nursing like a champ. Despite the C-section, I was not in a lot of pain, and because section babies spend their first night in the nursery, I even got some sleep!  Now, what happened the next day is somewhat of a blur, to be honest, but I will try to write about it accurately.

 The next morning I was in the room with my baby and family, a bit tired but happy. The nurse came in and gave me the spiel about having to be able to use the restroom before I could go home. So I carefully got out of bed and she helped me to the restroom.  I suddenly began to feel dizzy, short of breath and lightheaded, but I automatically chalked it up to the pain from my incision. However, the nurse evidently saw something in my face she didn't like, because she immediately guided me back to bed and slapped a blood pressure cuff on me. She then proceeded to usher my extended family out of the room, while, at the same time, a group of about 6 doctors and nurses came rushing in. I remember panicking, not at the sight of all the staff, but because one nurse was telling me they were going to have to bottle feed my son, and not being able to tell her which formula I preferred because I had never even looked into anything other than breastfeeding. Then the baby was gone from the room, and I realized that something pretty serious was going on, and that I had absolutely no idea what it was.