God HELLP Me

The first signs of preeclampsia and HELLP Syndrome (a life-threatening complication) appeared in late-January but I didn’t realize that I was in danger until February 12th, 2016. I woke up that morning screaming my husband’s name at the top of my lungs, convinced I was being attacked. The pain was absolutely unbearable, I couldn’t stop crying long enough to speak. I described the sudden headache as a “Lightning Spider”, with the greatest intensity at the crown of my skull and the “legs” reaching down all sides.

We called my mom, who said to check my blood pressure. I waited in bed as my husband ran to the pharmacy to purchase the monitor. My mind wandered and I couldn’t help but think of what if scenarios. What would have happened if the headache hit a few hours later while I was driving to work? I definitely would have wrecked my car. I rubbed my belly and sang to my baby, attempting to calm us both down.

Off to the Hospital

After we checked my blood pressure and it was dangerously high, 169/115. The doctor on call took my information and told us to leave immediately for the hospital. I felt a strange relief, as scared as I was for both of us I knew that I would finally be taken seriously. I wasn’t simply overreacting, my constantly achy, nauseous, and swollen pregnancy signaled complications. Within minutes of my arrival, they strapped me to blood pressure and fetal heart monitors.

The attending OB on the floor just happened to be the last person to see me days earlier in his office. Almost immediately he admitted me for preeclampsia and ordered 48 hours of IV magnesium sulfate to prevent a seizure. At just 24 weeks and 2 days into my pregnancy, I went from normal to high-risk. Several doctors met with our family and discussed the possibility and dangers of delivering so early.

Micro Preemie Survival Outcomes

They handed me the scariest piece of paper I’ve ever seen in my life: a personalized calculation of my baby’s survival chances. The difference between giving birth at 24 vs 25 weeks was 43% vs 56%. If he survived, the chances of long-term disability were close to 80% in both scenarios. They discussed the possibility of palliative care, but I immediately said to “do everything”, and I’m still unclear to this day if that was my head or my heart talking.

Every day that passed gave him a much better chance of survival, so the plan became to keep me pregnant for as long as possible. Decisions were dependent on daily ultrasounds and blood draws, plus frequent fetal and blood pressure monitoring. The next 6 days of my life were my worst, with the constant fear of the unknown. I went from worrying about cribs and baby registries to fearing for our lives.

Getting Worse

My memories of my hospitalization are very hazy, mostly because of the magnesium sulfate. It left me exhausted, weak, and confused. I couldn’t eat or drink for 48 hours during the magnesium treatment, so I spent Valentine’s Day begging for ice chips instead of indulging my pregnant chocolate cravings. Our romantic date was sneakily watching The People vs. OJ Simpson. If my nurses knew the car chase scene was raising my blood pressure, both my husband and I would have gotten a stern lecture.

We did our best to be optimistic, but my condition was rapidly deteriorating. My whole body was swollen and it was getting worse, the tops of my feet looked like water balloons. Since I was on bedrest the nurses put cuffs on my legs that squeezed them to prevent a blood clot. My face was so puffy that I could barely open my eyes. I became unrecognizable.

The swelling in my arms was so severe that none of my nurses could draw my blood, phlebotomy was called several times a day. They were so sweet, always apologizing when they missed a vein. I remember telling them to stick me to death, I didn’t care as long as I could stay pregnant. Blotchy purple and black bruises covered both my forearms, framed by fuzzy medical tape residue. Though I never saw a mirror, I remember the faces my family made when they looked at me. They always smiled and joked a second later, but couldn’t hide the first moment of shock.

Developing HELLP Syndrome

I received 2 steroid shots to help Buggy’s lungs develop, and spent most of those 6 days lying on my left side. Eventually my vision began to change and I saw black and white “snow” lines, like what appears on TV when you don’t have that channel. The doctors made the decision to deliver and then reversed their position several times. I learned to despise the maternal fetal medicine doctor, shooting the messenger every time he sat on the end of my bed. He knew the significance of my changing bloodwork and I didn’t. He saw my platelets falling and my liver enzymes rising. My preeclampsia turned into HELLP syndrome before their eyes.

Now a stroke, seizure, liver rupture or placental abruption wasn’t just a looming possibility, it was imminent without intervention. I fought tooth and nail to prevent his delivery, but ultimately Buggy made the decision for us. His heart rate was dropping and no longer variable, even when I would change positions the beats per minute stayed exactly the same. The safest option for both of us was to deliver on that day. The entire team was in agreement and within the hour the OR was prepped. My parents dressed my husband in a paper gown, we took a few pictures, and then I was wheeled away.

We did our best to be joyous, we wanted him to enter the world feeling loved and hopeful. We thanked God for the 6 extra days to allow him to grow, and prayed for his health and mine. The OR was bright and clean, everyone spoke softly and positively to me. My OB gestured to a group of people in the corner of the room. He said that they were just for the baby, ready to act the second he arrived and I felt much better. Though HELLP Syndrome left me entirely heartbroken, I felt a sense of peace knowing that I carried him as long as I could. Now it was up to them, and him.

Early Delivery

After an epidural and plenty of pain and nausea meds, we were ready to deliver. My husband held my hands and sang to me, as the doctor brought our son into this world February 18th, 2016 at 3:56pm. At just 25 weeks and 1 day gestation, he was by far the smallest person we’d ever seen. Our lives were changed completely the day he was born and I became a micro preemie mom.

Now that he is healthy and doing well, we are able to celebrate his birthday as a joyous occasion. For me, the most difficult anniversary is the day of my hospitalization, February 12th. It signifies the loss of my normal pregnancy, because giving birth in my second trimester was unimaginable before that day. I learned many hard and scary truths during my hospitalization, and still experience some PTSD when the anniversary rolls around.

During this week, I do my best to be gentle with myself and focus on my many blessings in the present moment. My son and I are HELLP Syndrome survivors, not victims and if you or a loved one has been touched by a similar experience I encourage you to comment below. The best things I can do moving forward are spreading awareness and living each day to the fullest. I hope that my writing does exactly that.