On February 29th, 2012, I spent the morning doing what I usually do…helping Abby get ready for school, then settling down to watch the Today show for a spell. I would have usually finished this routine with a nap (yeah - at 9 a.m.), but I had a doctor’s appointment at my OB/GYN that day. On the Today show, I noticed that most of the people in the audience outside the show were holding signs that said they were Leap Year babies…grown women with signs saying, “I’m 8 years old!”. I said, out-loud, to these people…”No you aren’t, you are 32. Get over it.” I should have known my day was going to take a strange turn.
For about 10 days before Leap Day, I had been experiencing
breathlessness and a tendency to hyperventilate when I would exert myself,
which included walking the 14 steps in our house to the bathroom. I would get to Step 12 and have to rest,
while I breathed like I had just run the New York Marathon. This breathlessness was attributed to my
carrying a large baby, who hadn’t “dropped” yet and the fact that this baby was
pushing all of my organs out of place, including my taxed lungs. Due to this breathlessness and my blood
pressure climbing by the minute, my mother decided she was coming to my OB
appointment. I had extreme blood pressure issues while carrying Abby and everyone was nervous that my blood pressure would again be problematic.
So, my mother and I set off for my 1:00 appointment. While getting my vitals taken, I soon learned
that I had lost 3 pounds, which made my TOTAL weight gain for the pregnancy a
scant 8 pounds. My blood pressure was
168/100 and my urine sample showed ketones and protein (yeah – neither of those
things is good). The certified midwife
at my OB’s practice was incredibly concerned and told me to immediately go to
Magee. (Do not collect $200, go straight to Magee) My mother asked “Should we call
Rob?” and the midwife said “Yes.” I
called Rob at work and tearfully told him it was “baby time”. I wanted to go to Abby’s school and get her
but my mother said they would wait at home until we found out for sure if I
would be having my C section that day or not.
Mom went to our house to get my camera, batteries, my cell phone and
charger. I waited at the doctor’s office
until Rob picked me up. We got our
package from Mom and headed to Oakland.
Join us next time, in the operating room.....
Thankfully, as I am a nervous passenger in Pittsburgh, we made it to Magee without incident. The parking lot, however, was nearly full and we drove around for a few minutes before we parked in one of the spots reserved for patients being discharged. Sorry if you were being discharged that day and we took your spot.
We walked slowly to Triage, as I was already out of breath from the short walk in the parking garage. I checked in at Triage and we waited our turn. It was only about 10 minutes before we were called back to a room. The nurse, Kelly, had me change into a gown and began the workup of my vitals. She put the blood pressure cuff on me and struggled to get the fetal heart rate monitor on. Even though I had felt the baby kick earlier that day, when they can’t find the heartbeat for even 2 seconds, panic begins to set in. Luckily, another nurse quickly found Lucy’s heartbeat and strapped the monitor on.
As my blood pressure raged on with a vengeance, the next step in the process was blood work. This was the first time I heard a phrase that I have never heard before but would become a theme throughout the next 9 days…”You have bad veins.” What? I regularly give blood, and never heard that before. Two nurses tried unsuccessfully to draw my blood, then called the IV team. While we waited for the IV team, the triage doctor came in to evaluate me and decided to consult the on call doctor from my OB/GYN practice, a really nice young doctor named Dr. Bummer. Dr. Bummer quickly decided that delivery as soon as possible was the best option. The IV team came in, and the woman drew several tubes of blood and put in a three way IV port. The next hour or so was a barrage of anesthesiologists, doctors, nurses and “shaving”. (Sorry if that's TMI - but baby birthing is some messy business)
I soon met a nurse named Luanne, who would be in the operating room with me. An hour after the blood draw, I remembered that I did not mention our wish to donate Lucy’s cord blood in the hopes that someone might be healed by this, the first gift Lucy’s could ever give. Guess what? I needed to have blood drawn to donate the cord blood so I had to be “stuck” again. (Inside my head I was swearing like Yosemite Sam - "frism frasm") This time, the nurse tried two different spots on my arm and was finally successful in getting the two tubes needed to donate the cord blood.
We walked slowly to Triage, as I was already out of breath from the short walk in the parking garage. I checked in at Triage and we waited our turn. It was only about 10 minutes before we were called back to a room. The nurse, Kelly, had me change into a gown and began the workup of my vitals. She put the blood pressure cuff on me and struggled to get the fetal heart rate monitor on. Even though I had felt the baby kick earlier that day, when they can’t find the heartbeat for even 2 seconds, panic begins to set in. Luckily, another nurse quickly found Lucy’s heartbeat and strapped the monitor on.
As my blood pressure raged on with a vengeance, the next step in the process was blood work. This was the first time I heard a phrase that I have never heard before but would become a theme throughout the next 9 days…”You have bad veins.” What? I regularly give blood, and never heard that before. Two nurses tried unsuccessfully to draw my blood, then called the IV team. While we waited for the IV team, the triage doctor came in to evaluate me and decided to consult the on call doctor from my OB/GYN practice, a really nice young doctor named Dr. Bummer. Dr. Bummer quickly decided that delivery as soon as possible was the best option. The IV team came in, and the woman drew several tubes of blood and put in a three way IV port. The next hour or so was a barrage of anesthesiologists, doctors, nurses and “shaving”. (Sorry if that's TMI - but baby birthing is some messy business)
I soon met a nurse named Luanne, who would be in the operating room with me. An hour after the blood draw, I remembered that I did not mention our wish to donate Lucy’s cord blood in the hopes that someone might be healed by this, the first gift Lucy’s could ever give. Guess what? I needed to have blood drawn to donate the cord blood so I had to be “stuck” again. (Inside my head I was swearing like Yosemite Sam - "frism frasm") This time, the nurse tried two different spots on my arm and was finally successful in getting the two tubes needed to donate the cord blood.
His wristband says "Sarah Yurga: Personal Belonging"
Join us next time, in the operating room.....
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