Panic.
A word and feeling no one wants to experience but was at the forefront of my mind 2 weeks postpartum.
Im sitting on the floor of our bathroom panicking because my body was experiencing something it never had following my previous pregnancies.
Just a few minutes before that moment of absolute panic, I walked over to the baby swing to lay little man down after I nursed him, and as I neared the swing, a huge, explosive gush came out of me.
I literally felt like I delivered my placenta all over again.
I gently put him down and proceeded quickly to the bathroom.
I walked in, sat down, and blood just poured out.
OH MY GOD.
WHAT IS HAPPENING?
I stood up and looked in the toilet and all I saw was red.
Dark red sitting in the bottom.
I kept thinking I was going to bleed out.
And I was terrified.
I called for Brent and Tempest came.
I tried to look calm and gently told her I needed her daddy without raising alarm.
He comes in and sees my distress.
“Am I going to be okay?”
“You’re going to be just fine.”
The last time I had this kind of scare was after I birthed Banshee and I hemorrhaged immediately after.
But this, this was different.
I was at home.
Nothing there would stop what I was experiencing.
I called my doula who pushed me to call the Dr, who by the way, wasn’t very worried because some women can pass a large clot at home.
But this was not normal for me.
Then I began feeling faint.
I sat on the bathroom floor with the hope I wouldn’t fall down to it, but I would already be there if I did completely black out.
But because I just lost a large portion of blood, my doctor said to eat something and monitor the faint feeling.
My doula, who is awesome by the way, came over and sat with me.
She hung with my girls.
Let them braid her hair.
She talked with me.
Prayed over me.
And gave me reassurance.
And as time passed, I felt better – still a little off, but better.
She left and I began preparing to go to bed.
But I’m not going to lie.
So many thoughts filled my thoughts.
Would I wake up?
Would I lay my head on my pillow and never wake?
Would I go to sleep and unknowingly leave my precious family?
Those questions flooded my brain and I was terrified to close my eyes.
I couldn’t shake the feelings, the emotions, and the fear.
It was overwhelming.
When I finally did go to bed, I laid on my pillow and silently prayed that God would allow me to wake.
I went to bed in tears worried I wouldn’t.
Thankfully, God showed me His kindness.
I woke up the next morning feeling significantly better.
I helped the girls get up and out the door for homeschool co-op with Brent.
And my doula already had plans to bring me lunch and check in on me.
She showed around lunchtime bearing the lunch gift of Qdoba.
We sat, ate, and talked.
Unfortunately, shortly after lunch, the episodes of feeling faint and flush returned.
They weren’t in quick succession, but they still happened.
Later that afternoon, after they continued and I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong, I asked Sprite to grab Brent.
“Something isn’t right. I don’t know what it is, but I don’t feel right.”
We made a few calls, gathered items we’d need, especially since little man was coming with us, and made our way to the hospital.
Shortly after we checked in, we were called back to triage.
At the time, my BP was 140/90.
My BP has never been that high, even during pregnancy, I’m a steady 110/60.
Shortly after that we were called back to a room.
They ran all the tests on me.
EKG, X-Ray, Orthostatics, and bloodwork.
Diagnosis: postpartum pre-eclampsia.
And since I was only two weeks postpartum, I needed overnight care with a magnesium drip in the labor and delivery wing.
I pleaded for another option.
I didn’t want to be there.
I wanted to be home.
I wanted to be with my girls who were terrified that something was wrong with their mommy.
I wanted to reassure them.
Unfortunately, reassurance looked like doctors making me better.
We broke the news to the girls via FaceTime.
“I want you to come home,” Tempest pleaded.
“When will you come home?”
“How long do you have to be there?”
Crocodile tears fell down their faces and I couldn’t wipe them away or reassure them.
Why?
Why does everything have to be so hard sometimes?
Labor and delivery, breastfeeding, recovery…can one thing just be easy?
To be continued…
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