Now that our crazy pregnancy, issues with pprom, and NICU journey have ended I decided to put together a shorter verions of Milo's story for those of you who stumble across this blog and don't wish to go back through the many blog posts to hear the story of milo.
My pregnancy was never what you would consider 'normal'. My husband and I got pregnant in November but I didn't realize for awhile because I got my regular period that month. My first appointment with a doctor after our positive HPT they told me they got a negative and I had likely miscarried. We were devasted but decided to have blood work done just to be sure. Luckily I had been charting and a few days later I noticed that my chart clearly showed that I was pregnant. I took another HPT and got a big fat positive yet again. We switched to a different midwife practice and immediately fell in love with all the midwives and nurses.
A few weeks into my pregnancy I started bleeding heavily and passing large clots (bigger than a silver dollar). I was home alone and felt certain I was having a miscarriage. I didn't experience any cramping but the amount of blood loss seemed to much to be anything else. I spent the night in tears with my husband and we just prayed. We didn't know what to pray for exactly (a common occurence for the rest of my pregnancy) so we just prayed for peace and help. The next morning we rushed in for an ultrasound and saw a beauitful strong beating heart. We were elated, but baffled. The ultra sound also showed that the baby's sac was surrounded by blood clots. So I was diagnosed with a subchorionic hematoma (SCH) and told to take it easy. The clots usually worked themselves out on their own which would include more bleeding. However, they said so much blood around the baby was very unusual and they honestly didn't understand exactly how the baby was still doing ok, just that the baby looked fine.
Time went on week after week with heavy bleeding every few days. The heavy bleeds started to feel normal but were still terrifying each time. I continued to go in for regular ultrasounds to make sure baby was ok and there was never anything unsual except the SCH.
The bleeding stopped around 15 weeks and then at 18 weeks I woke up in the middle of the night because I could feel a gush of blood coming. Luckily I made it to the bathroom in time, but then noticed there was no blood. Instead the gush of liquid was clear. It was very unsettling and I thought to my self that it felt exactly like what I imagine my water breaking would feel like. I knew that wasn't a good sign or normal but at 18 weeks I knew there was nothing to be done if I went to the ER. I instead went back to bed and went to my doctor in the morning.
Once we arrived we were rushed to ultrasound once again and saw a lovely beating heart. The baby was hard to make out and I mentioned that to our wonderful ultrasound tech and she simply made a sound of acknowledgement.
We then waited for a long while until one of the midwives came to see us. She said that I had broken my water and chances of survival were 0%. They were sending us to a specialist to find out our options. At first I was confused, my husband and I were just moments ago laughing at all the trouble and heartache our little baby was already putting us through and now they were saying our baby was going to die. They told us I would either go into labor naturally in the next few days or I could go to a clinic to be induced. When I asked why I couldn't be induced with them, they said our office doesn't perform abortions. That statement hit me like a ton of bricks. My baby was still alive but my only options were to wait for it to die or to abort it.
It only got worse when we went in to see the specialists. They started with an ultrasound and with their better technology were able to show us the tiny fingers and toes, the perfectly working kidneys and urinary tract, the little head and ears. It was awful, I spent the whole time sobbing while she told me how beautiful and perfectly healthy my baby seemed; but it didn't matter my baby was going to die. She then asked if we wanted to know the sex but I just couldn't handle finding out right then. She said it would be in the report if we ever wanted to know.
When the doctor came in it was more bad news. She told us that our baby wouldn't survive even if I some how carried to full term; without the fluid they baby's lungs wouldn't develop. She said she had experienced this situation only once before and the baby did survive but just barely and with a load of health and respiratory problems. She told me to watch out for signs of infection and to expect the start of labor and handed me pamphlets for abortion clinics as she lead me out the back door; sparing me from seeing all the other pregnant women in the waiting room.
My husband and I went home to try and process everything, but we just felt lost. I cried and began researching natural ways to induce labor and help along an impending miscarraige. Icouldn't handle the thought of going to a clinic, but I also didn't want to stay pregnant with a doomed outcome. So I got a few herbal supplements that were supposed to induce labor.
I continued to take them over the weekend but never had any signs of labor. I then went in for weekly ultrasounds to see if the baby's heartbeat had stopped (so they could then induce labor). Every week there was still a small heart beat. Those were the hardest weeks of this entire journey. It was so hard not knowing what to even hope for. Do I hope that the baby's heart has finally stopped? But I couldnt hope that my baby had died, that was just terrible. Or did I hope that the baby's heart was still beating? Thus, putting off the inevitable?
After awhile I got this sickened feeling in my stomach (more of an emotional feeling) and I couldn't bring myself to take the herbs that would help me go into labor. I didn't want to take them but I couldn't explain why. My husband and I had come to terms with losing our baby, and while we still grieved we tried to be happy with the knowledge that atleast we knew we could conceive. We decided to read the report and found out that the baby was a girl. It was bitter sweet finding out and trying to find a name for our little girl. She would need a name even if she wasn't going to survive. We decided to name her Selah, a hebrew name which meant to "pause and praise God." Through this experience we often struggled to find reasons to praise God, but knew we had to stop and look for them just so we could keep it together.
Then after almost 4 weeks of waiting for something to happen I went online and did some research and came across a website dedicated to stories about pPROM. I had never even heard the term since neither my regular doctor or the specialists had ever mentioned it. I found hundreds of success stories of women who continued along in their pregnancies and took home healthy babies who were thriving! I was astounded, based on what I had found the survival rate for the babies of women in my same position was closer to 25% (not very high but must higher than 0!) and the survival rate increased to near 85% when women made it past 28 weeks. I was elated, I took this news to my doctor who then revealed that if I did make it to 24 weeks (when a baby is considered viable, or able to be saved if born) then I could check into the hospital and stay there until I either got an infection and had to be induced, or went into labor on my own.
Finally, we had something concrete we could pray for, and we made it to 24 weeks. We checked into the hospital for the long haul. My husband was nothing short of amazing during this time. He stayed with me each night, both of us curled up on my hospital bed. He hooked up our playstation so I could watch netflix and we could play call of duty together, he cooked all my meals and took me for daily walks outside. He did all this while working and going to school full time. We got to know most of the nursing staff and doctors and got to share our story with each of them. I wanted everyone to know it so that if they ever ran into a woman in my same situation who was told their baby had a 0% chance of survival then they would be able to tell them how far we had made it. The name Selah seemed even more fitting the further along we made it. We still had regular ultrasounds but without any amniotic fluid it was always hard to see much of the baby. During one of our growth scans the tech looked at me and asked "Now what did you say you were having?" When I replied we were told a girl she laughed and said "welllll it doesn't look at all like a girl to me!" and sure enough even with out fluid it was clear as day. We were actually having a boy. Since I had really wanted a girl I thought I would be disappointed, but all I could do in the moment was laugh. Of COURSE it was a boy. Absolutely no part of this pregnancy has gone according to plan and there was no chance of anything happening like I expected it to. My husband and I then had the difficult task of scouring baby name books to find a name for this little guy. We fell in love with the name Milo and saw on one website that it meant "merciful destroyer" which seemed appropriate since my uterus was certainly a disaster.
The weeks dragged on and at 30 weeks I had contractions and thought I might go into full on labor. I sent a text to my best friend since 5th grade who had been due for awhile with her first (also a boy). I told her she had better hurry up or my baby would come out first. Little did I know she had also started having contractions and was heading to the hospital! By the next morning my contractions had stopped but it was clear I had an infection and my c-section was scheduled (a c-section was required since Milo was breech ever since my water broke). I thought Milo and Mickey (my best friends little boy) would be born only a day a part but apparently Mickey was still waiting for his future bff. My friend was still in labor and Mickey didn't make his appearance until 4 hours after my c-section :)
The actual procedure was quite unenventful but I remember the doctor saying he he was trying to cry. The few squawks I could hear made me so happy, he was brought over for me to see real quick then was taken to be cleaned up. I got to give him a kiss and touch his face just before they took him up to the NICU with dad. I was told they were able to stabilize him with CPAP (a breathing machine that is similar to regular oxygen but it helps babies take their breaths). Then while I was in recovery his doctor came in to tell me Milo wasn't doing well. They told me that the umbilical cord had a knot in it which could explain his small size and a few issues with his heart. They were going ot try a few medications and put him on an oscillator but they weren't sure if it would help. Luckily I had done TONS of research while on bedrest and was not afraid. I knew the machines and complications they were talking about and had even expected them right off the bat. I continued to pray but felt reassured that he would respond well to the treatment and he did. 24 hours later he was doing much better and each day he was getting weaned off another medication or put on a lower setting for his breathing equipment. The NICU ride was a long one, Milo didn't come home until one day past his due date, but he came home with no healthy problems and without any oxygen. He is small for his age (both adjusted and actual) but that is more due to the knot in his cord than pPROM. One day after we had brought him home, I was rocking him in the nursery and thinking back on all that had transpired and it dawned on me that my water breaking was a miracle. The doctors told us the knot would have been tied sometime when my water was still intact. However it hadn't been tightended or else the baby would have died. If my water hadn't broken at 18 weeks Milo would have been free to move around and likely would have pulled the knot tight at some point later on in the pregnancy. Even though the whole ordeal was incredibly stressful and beyond terrifying, I am so thankful for all the complications, because without them I may not have Milo.
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