Thirty seven weeks. I had made it! After yet another long and scary pregnancy, I had finally made it to the day of my cerclage removal. From this point on, I could safely deliver my baby without the worry of miscarriage. The threat of my incompetent cervix was gone. From this day on I would be like every other pregnant mother out there, waiting with baited breath for the early signs of labor.
This wasn't the first time I had had a cerclage removal. In the previous pregnancy I went to the doctor's not really knowing what to expect. I remember it being more painful than I had anticipated. Since the removal of a cerclage is typically a quick and easy procedure, it is done at the doctor's office without the need for any pain medication. But since my cerclage had been placed as a "preventative" cerclage, it had more time for the skin of my cervix to grow partially around it. So upon removing the cerclage, there was some cramping, lots of pain, and a little spotting in the day to follow. I am still surprised I made it through the removal without any sort of pain intervention. After gripping for dear life onto the edge of the medical bed and screaming out a few choice words, I had made it through the entire removal in less than ten minutes. With that being my first cerclage, I thought for sure the baby was going to come out in a matter of days. But as I reached 40+ weeks, I came to realize that removing the cerclage wasn't exactly like opening the floodgates as I had expected.
This time, I was prepared. I knew it was going to be painful having the cerclage removed. I knew that I had to get through it if I wanted to have the best chance for a VBAC.--My Obgyn had tried to convince me to schedule a repeat c-section and have the cerclage removed in the process. But I was determined to have that VBAC. I knew what my body was capable of, and all the signs in my body had so far pointed to my chances being really good.--As I walked into the doctor's office I was coming in as a veteran of the procedure and I was bracing for impact.
This time my husband couldn't come back with me. Since we knew the cerclage removal was going to be painful, we chose to have my husband stay with our son in the waiting room so our little guy wouldn't have to see me in so much pain. It was weird to go without him, but I wasn't scared. I knew what I was there for. The doctor had me undress from the waist down and sit back on the bed, my feet spread wide up in stirrups. It was an awkward position I had grown accustom to with all the extra monitoring my pregnancies required. As the procedure began, I once again felt the pain of the cerclage breaking loose from my cervix. I tried my best to gain a grip on my pain, breathing deeply and trying desperately to focus on the relaxing little twinkling star-lights they had in the ceiling. But as the doctor continued to pull and tug on the cerclage, the pain radiating from my loins deep into my stomach and I felt my control slipping away. The pain consumed me. With gritted teeth, I wiped away a few frustrated tears. I wanted to go without drugs, do the "healthy mommy" thing, but the pain was too much. Why couldn't I get through the pain this time? I must have become soft over the years. (It's odd but I have always been a bit proud of my high pain tolerance.) The doctor gave me a shot of local numbing so I could make it through the rest of the removal. As he began the procedure again, I felt pressure but not pain and I was grateful for it.
When all was said and done, I watched as the doctor and nurse gathered up the tools that still glistened with blood. I remember there being a good amount of blood with the previous removal but it didn't bother me. I have never been one to get squeamish around blood. "I'm sorry that was so rough compared to the last time." The doctor said as he stood from his stool. "The skin on your cervix had grown around the cerclage and when I went to remove it, a small pearl size chunk of the skin came off with the cerclage. Now, I've applied a clotting ointment on that spot and it seems to be doing the trick. But I want you to stick around for the next half hour for some additional monitoring to make sure everything is holding up well." I agreed and followed the nurse to another room where they hooked me up to heart monitors for me and the baby. I wasn't worried in the slightest. Some skin had come off last time, albeit not as much, but it didn't seem to be a major deal. Even as I popped into the bathroom right after the removal, I noticed I had little to no bleeding whatsoever. In fact, it was less bleeding than the previous time I had a cerclage removed.
A half an hour passed and everything was fine. Both the baby and I had healthy heart rates, I was hardly bleeding at all, and on the whole I felt good. The doctor apologized again for "maiming" my cervix, but he felt confident that he had stopped the bleeding and everything seemed to be holding up strong. I was cleared to go home.
This was it! I was flying fancy free. Without the cerclage anymore, the baby could come at any minute and the anticipation was thrilling. It took everything within me not to go hiking off into the horizon on a mad trek to induce labor. But I knew, after just having the cerclage removed, it would be best if I took it easy at least for the day. Gearing up for a lazy day, I propped my son up on my lap, sat back in our cozy computer chair, and started up some cartoons for us to watch together.
Three hours past and my butt couldn't stand it anymore. I had to stand up and stretch. My husband had gone grocery shopping so I waddled around the kitchen helping him put away the food. It was all so ordinary, so mundane. But when I think back at that moment in the kitchen, as we were moving about in the humdrum activities of everyday living, I am amazed at how still and simple everything was before disaster took place. The calm before the storm I suppose.
I hate to say it out loud, let alone commit it to writing but, all the drama began while I was sitting on the toilet....
Thanks to the weight of the pregnancy pushing down on my bladder, I had to go to the bathroom for the umpteenth time that day. As I finished up my business, I noticed that I was still trickling. It's important to know that, in the previous pregnancy, my water broke right after going pee, which made it hard to tell if I was just having the worlds most unsatisfying pee or if my water had actually broke. All I remember was it feeling like a small gush followed by a small trickle. So as I sat there, once again, pregnant and on the toilet, I felt the familiar gush and trickle. Since there is no modesty in our house, I excitedly called my husband over to the bathroom. "Do you hear that?" I asked him. He stood in the doorway looking confused. "I'm leaking!" I said with excitement. "I think my water just broke!" He gave me an incredulous smile. "You've got to be shitting me!" he chuckled. I squealed with excitement. "We better go finish packing our hospital bag!" I said while reaching for the toilet paper. But as I stood up from the toilet, I looked back before flushing and was shocked to see the bowl filled with blood. I wiped again to check. Nothing but blood. I looked up at my husband who stood frozen in the doorway. "That's a lot of blood." he said in a near whisper. "Yeah," I agreed, "that's not right." I asked my husband to get me a feminine pad since they were in the other bathroom across the house. As he went to retrieve one, I sat back down and could hear the continual trickle of blood.
After putting on a pad, I began to walk to the bedroom still with the intent on packing up a hospital bag. With that much blood loss, I wanted to go to the hospital either way to figure out what was going on. I didn't even get halfway across the house before I felt a sudden gush between my legs. I was losing more blood. With each step I felt another gush, and another. As quickly as I could, I made my way to the other bathroom attached to our bedroom. My husband was busy working on packing the hospital bag when he looked up at me, concern and panic etched into his face. "What's wrong?" he demanded.
"I keep getting large gushes of blood coming out." I said as I made my way to the toilet. As I peeled off my pants, I could see that the blood had not only overflown the pad, but had saturated through my pants as well. In a daze, I tossed them next to the tub and set to work on putting on fresh clean underwear, a pad, and pants. I stood again to go help my husband pack, but as soon as I stood up I could feel the blood pouring down my legs. "Joe!" I called from the bathroom, "We need to call 911!" In a blur, my husband dashed off to get his phone.
I remember feeling concerned and yet unusually calm. Obviously something was wrong, but I had confidence that the doctors could help me. But in that moment, the only thing I could focus on was making sure that the baby was safe. I had felt him moving just before, so he was at least still alive....he was alive. I had to keep repeating it to myself. I couldn't lose another son. My heart was not strong enough to go through that again. But I knew that panicking was not going to help the situation. I just have to get to the hospital and the doctors can make sure my baby is safe. He's 37 weeks now. If he's born today he will survive. With shaking hands, I set to work on putting on another pad, this time not even bothering to change my blood-soaked clothes. Joe is calling 911. They will be here soon. They will know what we need to do. I just have to get to the hospital. The door to the bathroom opened and my breath caught in my throat. There, standing right in front of me, was my two year old son. "Mommy? Happened? Hey, dis?" he asked, pointing to the pad. Oh God, he should not be seeing this! I took a deep breath and put on my best smile. "It's okay, Sweet Pea." I said in as happy of a voice as I could muster. "This is called a pad. It's like a big band-aid." He looked at me so innocently. "Mommy owie?" I have to get him out of here! He really shouldn't be seeing this! "Yes, Mommy has an owie. But that's okay. I'm going to go see the doctor and they'll help me feel so much better. Now why don't you go back out to the living-room and finish watching your cartoons, okay?" He lingered for a moment, looking at me confused. At that moment, my husband came in to the room with the phone. "It's 911." he said, "they want to talk to you." He handed me the phone and gently took my son by the hand. "C'mon, Andy." he said with a smile. "Let's go start another show for you."--We both knew we had to be as calm as possible for our son.
"Hello?" My voice sounded tired.
"Hello. Is this Jennifer Belousek?"
"Yes."
"We have paramedics on the way now. While we wait, why don't you tell me what's going on." The lady on the phone sounded so casual and friendly. As I began to explain the situation to her, my eyes drifted over to the mirror next to me as I still sat on the toilet, blood trickling out of me. I was ghostly white, my eyes looked tired and sunken in, my head felt fuzzy.
"Okay, Jennifer? I need you get off of the toilet and go lay down on the bed. It is important that we have you lay back so gravity won't keep working against you."
"Okay." I stood up, pulling my blood soaked pants up with me. Instantly the room began to spin.
"Keep talking to me." Her sing-song voice suddenly sounded stern. "Tell me how you are feeling."
"Feeling?" I staggered toward the bed. "I feel really dizzy." I caught another glimpse of my colorless reflection. "I look freakishly pale." I mumbled.
At my request, my husband laid a towel down on the bed. I didn't want to get blood on the sheets.--In retrospect, it seems ridiculous that I would even worry about that in the middle of it all.--I eased myself onto the bed and handed the phone back to my husband.
"Keep talking to me, Tiny." my husband was nearby. I'm not sure where exactly. I remember hearing his voice. Either the room was going black, or I kept closing my eyes. But I remember him insisting that I keep talking to him. I don't even know what it was we talked about. In that moment I felt so cold, so dizzy, so tired. I'm in bed anyway. Maybe I can just doze a little while I wait for the paramedics. I could hear my son asking about me. No. I should stay awake. In the movies they always tell the injured person to stay awake... My husband tried to get Andy to leave the room. I think I can hear sirens. My husband scooped my son into his arms. "It's okay." I heard him say. "They're here to help mommy."
The paramedics came into the room and asked me to explain the situation to them. Don't they already know the situation? I thought. Why do I keep having to re-tell it? I stare off at the bassinet next to our bed. That's the baby's bed...I hope he's okay...I need him to be okay... They were taking my vitals as my husband stood at the foot of the bed, my son still in his arms hugging around my husband's neck.
"Well," one of the medics said, "We have to take you to Evergreen Hospital right now." I looked up at him confused. "But we registered to deliver at Overlake Hospital." I explained. The man shook his head. "You don't have enough time. Evergreen is closer. We have to take you there right now." I glanced up at my husband. He was poised and ready for action.
It almost seemed like a dream as I watched them move the bassinet to the corner of the room to make way for the stretcher. I vaguely remember silently praying that wasn't a bad sign. Blood-soaked towel and all, they helped slide me onto the stretcher and started for the door. I don't know if they really paused for a moment for me to say goodbye, or if in my hazy memory I remember time moving slowly, but as I left the room, I stretched my hand out towards my husband and my son. They both looked nearly vacant. "It's okay, Andy." I called to my son, "Mommy is just going to the doctor's. I'll see you guys really soon, okay? I love you!"--Later I realized I was so focused on keeping my son calm that I didn't even know if I had really said goodbye to my husband as I left. I felt horrible about that.
It was odd leaving the house on my back. When you spend every day walking in and out of your home, it just feels weird going through the doorway laying down. Even more-so when you have a team of people carrying you down the front steps. Carefully they carried me to the ambulance and secured me inside. I could vaguely hear my husband's voice off in the distance before they closed the door. Suddenly I was alone. Of course, there were paramedics there with me. But as I lay there on the stretcher, feeling the sting of needles pricking my skin as they tried several times to find any sign of a vein for the IV, I felt alone, ripped away from my family. I watched the houses in our neighborhood slip past the window above me as I lazily answered their questions. So many questions. Why do they keep bothering me with so many questions?... I wanted my husband there with me. I wanted to kiss my son, Andy, and tell him I was going to be okay. I wanted to know that my baby was safe and healthy. But as the cold exhausted ache began to turn to numbness, I wanted so badly to give in and close my eyes for just a moment to rest.
And then the first contraction hit me with full force.
***
From the Husband
I've told this story how many times now? Yet, reading it here has probably had the biggest impact. It was no longer my story to tell. I'd told it to various nurses, doctors, friends, family, social workers, etc. but I had always told it by myself, and from my perspective.
Now, my wife and I had told each other the pieces that we missed of course but putting it down into written words makes it stand out all the more how different our experiences were.
Up to the point of when she started losing blood that's about what happened. Those humdrum details are all fuzzy like peripheral vision; you know what's there, but can't quite make it out. It was apparent that she'd lost a lot of blood, enough to effect her memory even by the time the first set of medical personnel showed up.
Sirens blared and the ambulance parked in front of our car on the street. Two men came out with bags and gear and quickly came in and said hi to our son and asked, "Is she just in the bedroom" he gestured through doorway you could see my wife's feet. They went in and I followed behind at the door trying to keep my son focused on the computer and his shows. I prayed he wouldn't be too stubborn about strange people going into Mommy and Daddy's room and not being able to see Mommy. Unfortunately and fortunately, all he did was shrink into himself in his chair. He was scared. I was scared. The two EMTs (or paramedics? There's a difference one of them explained but I can't recall which is which) took her vitals and talked to her. She sounded like she just had a bad headache and just wasn't feeling well. That was it. She was fine. But blood. Lots of blood. She couldn't be fine. At this point I couldn't keep my son away so I held him and kept his head buried into my shoulder and neck.
More sirens blared and two more folks joined us along with a gurney. One was a tall husky woman and the other man just blended in with the other two. As soon as the woman got into the doorway her first words were spoken with commanding presence, "I don't like your color. Where are you delivering?"
"Overlake." I don't remember if I responded, one of the other medical personnel, or if my wife spoke up to say it.
The woman gave the order, "Not today you're not. We're going to take you to Evergreen. They have great doctors. We've got to go."
With that they set into motion getting her on the gurney. While they did that, I gathered up all of the bags a parent has and our hospital bag while holding my son. Wallet, keys, cell phone. I stood off to the side of the medical personnel as they wheeled her passed my son and I. She offered solace to our son with a beaming smile and a soft voice. We only caught eyes for a moment. We only had that moment to mouth "I love you" before she was ahead of me and couldn't look back. I couldn't speak the words that had come so effortlessly so many other times before. I could tell her energy was running low otherwise she would have said the words too.
As they loaded her onto the ambulance, I had already thrown the bags into the trunk, gotten Andy into his car seat and was sitting in the driver seat with the car on. I couldn't go anywhere because the two ambulances had blocked my only route to move. I wanted to swear rampantly that I couldn't get to the hospital I knew she was going to. But I had to wait. Again. I always had to wait and do nothing while the worst moments of my life happened. I also couldn't swear because I had to explain things to my son and not worry him.
The ambulances moved and I was behind them, but once they turned a corner and their sirens blared they were gone. My wife was gone and I didn't know how she was doing. I wasn't by her side and I couldn't be by her side.
I had suddenly felt very much alone.
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