Having a Baby Nearly Killed Me: Understanding Preeclampsia and HELLP Syndrome (Part 1 of 2)
I love my babies. I do. I want all of them and they can all stay. But you know what’s hard?
HAVING THEM.
As a first-time mom, let me tell you what my plan was:
- Take ALL the classes (baby care, birthing, breastfeeding)
- Read ALL the birthing books
- Prepare a lights out hospital bag situation
- Attend every doctor’s appointment
- Go into labor 5 days before my due date
- Spend a lot of time laboring at home
- After several hours, we would finally decide to go to the hospital where I would be pleasantly surprised about my ability to manage the pain and avoid an epidural entirely or until the bitter end.
- Our healthy baby would pop out after approximately 17 minutes of pushing, with the angels singing.
- Adore and cuddle beautiful new babe
- Leave hospital within two days
- Begin the perfection of the rest of our lives
(Have I mentioned that I’m a bit of an idealist?)
Sounds fab, right?!
Well. I did check off a few items on that list. The birthing books on my shelf had all been read. I was particularly interested in attempting a natural birth, so I read a bit extra about that. Our hospital bag was perfectly packed. I went to every appointment with great results.
It had taken us about a year for me to become pregnant with this little nugget, and I was thrilled to *try* to do everything I could to make this experience the best for her (and for us)! You can read more on that fertility journey here: When You’re Ready but it’s Not Happening: My Story + 5 Lessons I Learned from Trying to Conceive
The “Perfectly Baked Cookie”
I was determined to do everything I could to create a happy little home for our nugget until at least 39 weeks gestation.
As a Speech-Language Pathologist, I had studied a lot of child development and knew that 39 weeks to 41 gestation is a sweet spot for having a baby. One of my friends, who also happens to be an OB/GYN, told me once that when a baby is born during that range, they’re like a “perfectly baked cookie.” But earlier than 39 weeks, and they’re a little soft. Later than 41 weeks, and they are just a little too crisp. I knew a lot about the risk and potential negative effects of pre and post-term births, including the potential impact on later academic performance, speech and language, sensory, as well as host of other possible negative effects on development. So I really, REALLY hoped for a full-term birth.
Our perfectly baked cookie.
When Things Started to Turn
Everything was going smoothly.
I hit my first teeny tiny snafoo at 26 weeks when I flew to Alabama to attend the incredible baby showers that my family had planned. During the first flight, my feet/ankles swelled up uncontrollably. They never regained their non-cankle shape. But I wasn’t worried. This was supposed to happen at some point, anyway, right?
We were trucking along, cankles and all, nice and healthy, until week 36. My fingers had now unexpectedly swelled up tremendously. Not only could I not get my rings off, but they were starting to hurt. And I was nervous about it getting worse and causing damage to my finger. I started googling ways to get rings off of swollen fingers. With my husband’s help, I tried approximately 6 different strategies. None worked, so I started panicking. Finally, I felt that I had no choice but to this one cut off.
Fortunately, I had already removed my wedding rings which were sized smaller, and was wearing them around my neck on a silver chain. It was so sad to see my beautiful ring be intentionally massacred. But better the ring than my finger?!
Next, at 36w1d, I woke up during the night at 4:30am with really bad stomach, (not baby), pains. I had a low grade fever and was vomiting. I called the on-call doctor and told her what was going on. She looked at my labs and saw that nothing had come up concerning. She was pretty certain that it was nothing to worry about other than a G.I. bug, so I decided to just take the day off work so I could rest and so I wouldn’t expose anyone! My hubby bought me a smoothie and I was feeling better by the end of the day.
The next two days, which were the weekend, (holllla!!!) were incredible and memorable. I had a surge of energy and wanted to accomplish EV-RY-THING. We went on our last “date” before baby! We did a minor league baseball game and Chang’s Mongolian grill buffet.
(PS: always, ALWAYS take super pregnant women to buffets).
It was surprisingly romantic. (Yes, I do in fact realize I just used the word “romantic” to describe time at a buffet). Then we spent most of Sunday finishing up everything for baby prep. We weren’t expecting her for a while still, but wanted to have everything done! So. We installed the car seat, finished packing our hospital bags, set up the stroller, made a little video for the babe.
The next day, I woke up again with that same, stupid pain. And I felt weak. I didn’t want to eat for fear I would vomit. But I couldn’t keep missing work, right? So I decided to still go. Boy, that was a bad idea. The day was ROUGH. I was training a new Speech-Language Pathologist, and fortunately we had a light day. I ate only two smoothies the entire day. (BIG FREAKING MISTAKE which I’ll get to later). By the end of the day, I was in so much pain and discomfort that I could barely walk or do much of anything comfortably. I felt very sick. I was scared. I thought something was wrong with me. So after seeing my patients, instead of finishing up my paperwork, I decided to leave work to get checked out.
Hospital Admission
Conveniently for me, I worked in the same building where babies are delivered and where the triage and OB/GYN clinics are housed. So I just took the elevator right on upstairs, and as soon as I got to the correct floor, I started crying. (This is embarrassing). “I think something might be wrong and I was just wondering if you could take my blood pressure or something?” I said to the gal at the front desk. Truly, I felt like I might pass out. The staff moved quickly and got me to a bed. At this point, I was 36 weeks, 4 days pregnant. They hooked me up to monitors. My blood pressure was exceptionally high. My heart rate was high. They took a blood sample. Within 20 minutes, the triage nurse came to tell me that my liver was “pissed off” (her words exactly) and that the doctor would be speaking with me soon.
I called my husband. It was about 5:30pm and he was at work. I cried and told him that I didn’t know what was wrong but that I needed him to come to the hospital (a 60-75 minute drive). He was in his fifth year of Residency and had a few things to finish up first. I was oblivious at this point…because surely they could just fix whatever was wrong and I could go home?
But then the on-call physician greeted me at beside. I put my husband on speaker phone, so that he was able to listen, as I knew he could interpret what the doctor said for me later. The doc explained that my lab results were consistent with severe preeclampsia, with an added *bonus* of HELLP syndrome. Unfortunately, there was no cure for preeclampsia, other than to get the placenta (and baby) out of the mom’s body. And because of the severity of my results, this needed to happen sooner, rather than later.
Did he just say what I think he said? No, no, no. I’m fine. I will be fine. Maybe by ‘sooner rather than later,’ he meant, like, sometime this week or next. Not now. Not today. We weren’t ready. I wasn’t ready. SHE wasn’t ready. The baby isn’t ready.
“She’s a soft cookie,” I said, terrified and distraught, as if I expected the staff to understand what I meant.
I started asking the important questions about the implications and preeclampsia. I wanted to know what impact this would have on my baby. I was relieved when the doctor said, “none.” He told us that when preeclampsia begins, it only gets worse, but it is unhealthy for mom, and not baby, unless baby has to be delivered early and there are resulting complications from that.
I kept asking questions, under the assumption that this was not an emergency. I could go home and see how I do, right? Isn’t there some medication I can take to help?
Finally, the doctor firmly stated that I was in danger.
He started talking about me having life-threatening seizures, liver failure, or platelet counts too low where surgery would be life-threatening for me.
It began to sink in. Even over the phone, I could tell that my husband, a physician himself, was terrified. And that’s when I truly knew. I was in a corner. I wanted to be able to live to enjoy this baby. Obviously, the risks of waiting on baby were far greater than having the baby now.
Through tears and sobs, I reluctantly agreed to continue with this “deviant” plan.
This was NOT the plan. My dreams of the home labor and natural birth were crushed. And so was I. I didn’t want to be induced.
I would never have a “first” baby again. I would never get these moments back.
But I surrendered to the wishes of these knowledgeable and experienced physicians, and to God. I was told I would need to have her that day or the next for my health and subsequently the health of the baby.
It was time for my husband to be by my side. I NEEDED him there. He hurried home, grabbed our bags (thank goodness we had finished packing them the night before, right?), and then met me at the hospital.
The Induction
So with the team’s guidance, we decided to start by trying the least invasive way of bringing our babe into the world. The team started an induction with a foley catheter. (that was fun). It was effective in dilating me a couple of centimeters, and then they started cranking up the pitocin.
We waited for hours.
Still no contractions.
My body was not ready to have this baby. It was early. So early. But not toooo early, praise the Lord.
They went ahead and placed an epidural so that they could use it in surgery, in the event it was necessary. The epidural placement went horribly awry. I had shooting pain down one of my legs as if I was being electrocuted. They had to remove and replace it.
With the lights down and everything calm for the evening, I slept for several hours overnight, (with the exception of the 42 times when my labs were drawn).
They took my labs every 30 minutes. And every 30 minutes, the expressions on the faces of the staff kept…changing. Getting more concerned. My platelets had dropped into the 70s. Because platelets are necessary for blood clotting, they need to be at least this high to have surgery safely. Otherwise, the blood loss could be too great for me, the mom.
They had me drink magnesium to prevent the seizures caused by preeclampsia. It made me feel horrible; dizzy and queasy. I started throwing up. They also gave me steroids to help with the baby’s lung development since we knew she would be early.
I WAS STARVING. Like, hungrier than I ever remember being in life. Those two smoothies I had earlier were looooong digested, and with the treat of a c-section looming, the staff did not want me eating. At all. “If only I had just had ONE real meal that day,” I kept thinking.
In the morning, my OB/GYN who I’d seen every appointment came into work and checked on me. He ordered a manual count of my platelets just to be sure they really were what the lab results were saying. He was clearly concerned about us continuing with an induction. He started saying things like, “it would be wise to consider the possibility of this ending in a c-section.”
But I kept hoping and praying that labor would pick up. If I couldn’t have her when she was ready, at least we could spare her entering the world by c-section, right? I keep pushing for waiting on labor to progress. But it just…wasn’t. I got to 3 centimeters but it had now been 12 hours and I hadn’t felt a single contraction.
My husband really just wanted the baby and me to be safe.
The next time we saw my OB/GYN, we had a decision to make. He believed the situation had been getting worse and would only continue to get worse, and we were already at a borderline emergency. I called one of my best friends’ who is an OB/GYN, and she confirmed that this was not a situation where she would often continue giving her patient’s the option of waiting on the induction to work.
So, after going back and forth and praying and reevaluating our priorities which were clearly the health of the baby and me (and less about the method/timing of baby arriving), we decided to go forward with the c-section. Honestly, our doctor looked quite relieved when we came to this conclusion.
The C-Section
Two hours later, it was time. (Terrifyingly, there were two emergency c-sections that arose before ours, bumping us back).
The staff gave my husband his “monkey suit” to wear in the OR. They made him stay back in the hospital room while they wheeled me into the operating room. He was able to join us about 10 minutes later. I didn’t like being alone in there. Plus, I was still super sick and vomiting every few minutes.
The NICU team was in the room and introduced themselves. With babies less born at than 37 weeks gestation, the NICU team is present to make sure the baby is okay at birth. I was so, SO beyond hopeful we would not require their services.
During the surgery, I was extremely sleepy and surprisingly sick. In videos, I sound quite druggy. But I remember what it was like to be there. With the beeping. And the tugging on my body. I remember being so hopeful. So nervous about the health of this poor baby being prematurely ripped from her cozy little mom palace. I hated that this had to take place. I even felt guilty that something happening in MY body required her to be born at this time. That she didn’t get to pick her own birthday.
The Baby
After 20 minutes of so, it was time. The doctor let us know that he was close.
Then told us he could see her.
And then, after more tugging than I had felt up to this point, my husband joyfully and emotionally said, “I see her, babe!” Then the most beautifully sound in life struck that room…the sound of a crying baby.
I was terrified, and thrilled, and…changed. All in that one moment.
“Welcome to the par-tay,” our surgeon said. What a great introduction, right?
Immediately, the NICU team looked at her. Her APGARs were 8 at 1 minute and 9 at 5 minutes. She was born, most fortunately, an extremely healthy 5 pound, 13 ounce baby. She was perfect.
Apparently I had grown a golf-ball sized cyst on an ovary during pregnancy, which needed removal. It would be about 1 hour before I would be able to hold my gal. But I got to snuggle her face. I got to study her features.
As I expected I would, I loved her IMMEDIATELY. All I wanted was to be normal for her.
The recovery took longer than expected. Even though she was early, she would be discharged in three days, but I had to stay for 5 in order for my labs to stabilize. The videos of my friends’ visiting are quite hilarious because I was out. of. it. for a few days.
But finally, I was back to normalish, and baby was doing great.
The rest of our life would begin. Even if the parts before leaving the hospital weren’t as perfect as the idealistic me had planned.
And that would be okay. Our story would look a little different. Our “soft cookie” was here for us to love now and forever.
This weekend, that spunky, smart, dominating little cookie turns 5.
Happy, Happy Birthday to her.
___________________
Next week, we discuss preeclampsia and HELLP syndrome (which has an approximately 30% mortality rate according to preeclampsia.org). When going through this pregnancy, I do wish I had been more aware of the signs and symptoms of preeclampsia, so that I could have been checked out earlier and hopefully progressed less down the path of declining stats and risk for life-threatening seizures. Increased awareness can hopefully help more women by teaching them what signs/symptoms to look for and when to get checked out by a provider. So that will be next Saturday!
Have you had an experience with preeclampsia or HELLP Syndrome? Let me know!
Also, if you’d like to subscribe to my YouTube channel, I’ll be posting a video from actual footage of our surprise baby situation soon! You can FIND ME HERE ON YOUTUBE!
I can’t wait to see you next week, friends!!!! So grateful that you joined me here today!
XO! ❤️❤️
Honestly,
AM 🙂 ❤️
More About Me: Hi! I’m Ann Marie, a blogging mama of 3 tiny gals, and a wife to a busy Orthopedic Surgeon. You can find me right here for a weekly smattering of inspiration for your motherhood journey, home, marriage (I see you other medical wives!), style, and beauty. You’ll find me most active on Instagram or Facebook for life between blog posts. And I truly can’t wait to see you there, friend. ❤️💋
To connect, shoot me an email at honestlyannmarie@gmail.com ❤️
Bless you, sweet friend. Pre-eclampsia is no joke.
I’ve had it with all 3 of mine. Early detection is KEY (and bedrest unfortunately keepy my BP at bay.
Oh my goodness, bless YOU! I was fortunate to not have a recurrence, and am so sorry that you had to navigate pre-eclampsia with all three. YES to early detection. So glad bedrest was effective in getting you further along in your pregnancies and that you had healthy babes! Thank you for sharing, Alaina! XO!
I was blindsided by preeclampsia and HELLP syndrome at around 35 weeks with my twin girls. Thankfully, I work with nurses and one noticed my swelling was not quite right. She made me call my doctor in front of her (because apparently I can be stubborn) and made sure I got in that morning. I was wheeled right from my OB/GYN’s office to the labor and delivery floor and put on strict bedrest. My symptoms worsened and I became incredibly sick. My girls were delivered via c-section at 36+3 and didn’t have to spend any time in the NICU! They’re thriving now at 16 months. Not how I planned for them to make their entrance; but, I’m thankful I lived to be their mommy!
Oh my goodness! What a story! I felt similarly, like I was blindsided, as it’s so unexpected to go from perfectly healthy to absolutely not healthy so quickly. Thankful that you had a nurse that knew what to look for and made sure you got the help you needed. And I’m incredibly happy you were far enough along to have those healthy girls and that they were fine! Thank you for sharing your experience!! Glad to connect with you! XO!
How scary!! First time birth is so stressful enough. I’m so glad your little cookie is celebrating her birthday! Great work, mama!!
Meredith – Thank you!! And great point – it’s already so complicated to experience first-time birth (and motherhood), that it’s definitely wild to have complications making things more unpredictable or scary! But so glad everyone is great now ❤️