Sophia is One
A whole year later and I can now sorta kinda tell you the placenta previa, birth trauma, c section trauma, and pandemic trauma is still so real
Hey friends,
This week has been hard. Let’s be real, every week has been hard but the week leading up to your last baby turning one? It’s a different kind of hard.
I think this is why.
I started to get really sick pretty much right when we peed on the stick at week 5. My first pregnancy went well, my second a little rougher with nausea, but this one… had me vomiting profusely. All hours of the day. Morning, afternoon, night, in the shower, in the car, in the kitchen, in the backyard, in the living room, basically, it hit anywhere at any time. I became afraid to leave my house. When I did, I packed nausea meds, a vomit bag, peppermint, reglan, zofran, metacloprimide, and hoped for the best! It usually didn’t work. This left me indoors, in bed, weak, missing out on a lot. But yay! A third baby! During a pandemic! What great news! We’re going to hunker down at home, cuddle our sweet babe and come out of the pandemic as a family of 5. I was happy to take the pills, it was the only thing keeping me off the bathroom floor and anything for our little girl, right?
It became really hard taking care of two kids, while pregnant with your third, during a pandemic, while you literally can’t eat, can’t sleep, and can’t keep anything down. My back ached, my head ached, my tummy ached, and my stress and anxiety were through the roof. By week 15 my doctor was surprised the nausea hadn’t let up, in fact, it was steadily getting worse. She assured me that by week 20 this may go away— it did not. What people were characterizing as “morning sickness” (light nausea) was actually a condition called Hyperemesis Gravidarum or HG.
The criteria used to diagnose hyperemesis gravidarum (HG) often varies among health professionals and researchers. Very little research is done on the impact of hyperemesis as differentiated from morning sickness, thus the impact of HG is likely greatly underestimated.
Women who are very severe are typically hospitalized, representing the 1-3% of pregnant women estimated as having HG. One study by Zhang, et al found a 10.8% incidence of severe vomiting, and another study found 16% of women using antiemetics.
There are hundreds, if not thousands, of additional women who terminate out of desperation when given inadequate treatment despite debilitating symptoms. Hyperemesis (HG) is not really a rare disorder.
Nausea and vomiting during pregnancy (NVP) can be mild (morning sickness) or more severe (hyperemesis gravidarum). NVP impacts every aspect of a woman's life.
Research finds that the greater the severity and duration of symptoms, the greater the effect on the mother.
Phew. I didn’t even have time to learn or read about my condition, not that there was anything much out there anyways, because of everything else going on in my house. Whenever I ran to go barf in the bathroom, I did so in fear that my toddler would burst into the office next door where my stay at home teacher husband was teaching his 4th graders live or in a staff meeting, all day. (None of our bedroom doors locked)
At my 20 week ultrasound, the technician nonchalantly talked about my placenta. It was not necessarily in the right place and it wasn’t necessarily bad, it just needed to be watched. My OB called me and told me, “Sometimes, we don’t even tell women they have placenta previa, so that they don’t worry, these things clear up over 90% of the time.”
HUH? I remember I was on bluetooth, driving near the pumpkin patches, two kids in the back, and the phone was cutting in and out.
placenta previa, bedrest, no bleeding…
I could not take and process this information in. (I thought I did, but clearly, I didn’t) So I assume that my body just went on auto pilot. We would have to check again at 32 weeks if my placenta has moved and if it hasn’t, then we would make a plan. But most likely, it will move and we don’t even have to worry.
How in the world could I be on bed rest as a mom of almost 3 kids?! Easy, I wasn’t. I ran myself to the ground, worked my Beautycounter business as if I wasn’t sick, and pretended like I was okay. I pretended like this pregnancy, during the pandemic, was just like the others. I pretended like the trauma of the constant vomiting my brains out and my frail placenta that wasn’t allowed to drip even one drop of blood was in fact, not traumatic to me at all.
This was around the same time Chrissy Teigen and John Legend announced the birth and loss of their son Jack due to her bleeding placenta. I was a wreck. Their story is not your story, I told myself.
I buried myself in work so much so, that I caught the attention of my mentor, upline, and founding member of Beautycounter. I remember the day Diane messaged me to tell me she recommended me to Kate for an interview. I almost laughed. Me?
I WATCH the ladies on the interviews and learn from them, now you want me to do one? I was honored, shocked, and nervous. Kate reached out the next day and we set up a meeting to talk next week.
The interview day arrived. However, my HG had other plans. I had spent the previous night in a debilitating migraine and non stop vomiting that I sent myself to the ER, yet again. Hooked up to the IVs, laying in the hospital bed, I messaged Kate.
Hi Kate, I can’t do the interview today, I’m in the ER and I don’t feel well, I’m sorry.
I was so worried about what she would say or think. That should have been a red flag for me. Instead, I wished they would push my fluids through faster so I can get out of here, I thought. Give me the zofran and let me go home. I don’t have time for this.
The next day was another day of vomiting. The kids went down for their nap, my husband was in a meeting, and I just came out of the bathroom from another vomiting episode. I grabbed my phone and messaged Kate.
Hey Kate! I’m home and feeling better! I’d love to reschedule the interview if you have a chance but if not, I understand and thank you for the opportunity!
She responded right away:
I’m free today at 3:30, want to do it then? It was 2:40.
Yes, no problem! (I need boundaries)
* I proceeded to wash my face, do my makeup, and pretend like I wasn’t just crying and vomiting. I look down at my phone.*
Actually, can you do 3:00?
It was 2:55.
Yes I sure can, let me just get set up! (seriously, I really needed boundaries)
I am silently praying that my kids don’t wake up screaming during this live recorded interview or that my husband doesn’t end his meeting, come out of the office, and just start talking. I have no idea what we are going to do or say, but here we go!
The interview was posted for our team of over 7,000 to watch, listen and learn from. I have no idea how I did that. Thank God I didn’t goof up. The series went out right before our biggest season yet, holiday. As 2020 was coming to a close, my business, my house, and my home life was at an all time high.
We did another ultrasound at 32 weeks and lo and behold, my stubborn placenta has not yet moved. The chances of it moving after this time are pretty rare and we started planning for a c section right because waiting for my water to break and have a vaginal delivery would put both mom and baby at risk for bleeding out. Yup. Did I take the time to mourn this and take it in? Absolutely not. My downstairs was completely gutted and I needed to find contractors to renovate before baby came. I also now have to prep everything because I’ll be recovering from surgery and bringing a newborn into this crazy pandemic household and my goodness gracious I was still vomiting and taking care of the kids, exhausted didn’t cut it.
My doctors and I had to play a really not so fun game. We had to get Sophia out as a full term baby, but before my body went into labor. It was a fine line. We tried to use my previous pregnancies as an estimate and we ultimately picked Jan 21, 2021— when she turned 37 weeks.
The plan until then was to rest, get ready for baby, and make sure, under no circumstances, did I bleed. Even one drop and I had to go immediately to the ER. It was imperative that I did not go into labor at the risk of both me and baby bleeding out. I don’t know how to explain or process everything that happened between in those last few weeks. Addy turned 5, we had Christmas, and I couldn’t set up the nursery because half my house was destroyed, we had nobody to watch the kids while I was in the hospital, and the house was a constant mess every day. I sure didn’t feel ready for a third baby.
The night of Jan 20th arrived. I remember walking around the house in the stillness of the night. I remember saying goodnight to my two little girls just a little extra, I remember getting our affairs in order like upping my life insurance and making sure that if I didn’t come back, at least my husband and the kids would set for food and clothing for a few weeks while they grieved (morbid, I know).
I set my alarm for 4:45am and called it “Baby Sophia Day.” My sweet sweet friend pulled into my driveway at 5:30am with coffee for my husband and an overnight bag as she was going to house sit, baby sit and chicken sit for us while I was away. Bless her soul I felt like my kids were in great hands and they were. We exchanged hugs in the driveway (this was almost a year into the pandemic and pre vaccine) and said our thank yous and see you soons.
My husband and I have done this drive two other times. The first was on December 10, 2015 at 11pm at night in California. After a day of teaching an an evening of movies and Chinese food, my water broke (gushed out really) and he frantically passed our bags and drove me to the hospital. The second was on September 9, 2018 at 9pm. I had been cramping all weekend and we played ping pong to distract me from the contractions. When my water started to leak at night, we knew it was time to go. She came shortly after, quick natural, in all her glory.
This time was different, it was planned. We would see our baby today, at 8am actually. How strange. And cool. We sat in the parking a lot a little longer making our playlist “A Sophia Is Born” The playlist was supposed to distract me, keep my mind away from the fact that they were going to have to cut her out of me in just a few minutes.
I wish I could say my husband was there during the prep, but he wasn’t allowed. That’s when it started. They couldn’t get the epidural in. I flash backed to my first delivery, when this happened.
I can deliver a baby without an epidural, I’ve done that before. I thought. But a cesarean baby without an epidural? Over my dead body.
They stabbed me five times. Had me curl in different positions. Try this, try that, but nope, they couldn’t. My defense mechanism started to kick in. I start to make jokes. I started to make them laugh. “Just put me under! (ha ha ha) I’ll wake up and this will all finished! (ha ha ha) I won’t even feel a thing! (ha ha ha)”
I tried to stop myself, but I couldn’t. I was in tears. The nurse held my hand as now two anesthesiologist (male) came to attend to me.
I haven’t had to call another doctor in over a decade! Wow, okay lay on your side, curl into a ball, and I have an ultrasound machine here to help me look at your spine so we can get this needle in the right spot, okay?
After numerous stabs, many doctors, lots of tears, lots of sweat, nerves and about 30 minutes off schedule — the anesthesia finally went in.
Why did we have to stab me 5 times and wait for your even more arrogant anesthesiologist to come before finally using the ultrasound machine to help?
What was SO wrong with not putting me through HELL and use a device instead?
Now can my husband come in? I ask. Its been at least 30 minutes of misery. Alone. In the operating room.
He had no idea what happened. And Lord knows I couldn’t tell him. I mean the nurse told him we were having a hard time with something, but that doesn’t cut it. I can’t even go into detail about all of this without being taken back to that day. They cut a baby out of me. Theres actually no other surgery where they cut through seven layers of muscle and tissue and then expect the person to get up right after and start take care of someone else. None.
They told me she wouldn’t be crying or breathing when they pulled her out. Im not even sure they used the word pulled, "vacuumed” is the one that sticks out to me. They told me the NICU team was on standby, right next to me. I looked over and it was true. There was an anesthesiologist behind me, my husband next to me, doctors surrounding me (2 or 3 or 4?) and a blue drape up so I wouldn’t see anything. At this point, it felt so silly to play music or chat? While you’re waiting for your baby to come out? And the longer I lay on that table, relaxed, smiling, waiting for baby, the longer I became anxious, terrified, worried. My fight or flight response was definitely mounting.
Your heart rate is going up. Try to breathe. You’re okay Alex. Its okay. I have you hooked up here. You’re breathing, I’m watching you the whole time. Im not going anywhere. You have the oxygen monitor hooked up to you.
But nothing he was saying made me feel better. I was cut open, on an operating table, fully awake while they took my organs out of me to pull a baby out of me. And did I mention we were ready for a transfusion too? You know, just in case something happens and the placenta previa would cause more bleeding. I was a mess.
You ready Alex? We’re almost there. You ready to meet your baby girl?
I have delivered two babies and nobody has asked me that.
Yes. Yes we are.
And just like that, they pull out tiny little Sophia in all her glory.
They start to describe her to me. Remember there’s a blue drape covering? They tell me she’s doing fine and she’s beautiful and how they’re just going to take her over to the NICU team next to me to check her out before I see her. I don’t think I’ve heard her cry at this point. She was so little. It was so quiet. And finally, she cried! Yay! She’s breathing.
Do you want to hold her?
Did I ever! Yes. They placed the baby on my chest. She was beautiful. So tiny, so perfect, so smooth and soft.
We did it Sophia! We got you out. We didn’t bleed. You’re okay! I’m okay! And then her daddy took her away to feed her.
(This pregnancy I was adamant about starting the bottle from the hospital, after the years I have had, this was a boundary I set early on and loved it.)
There so many bright lights. So many doctors. I was tired. After a year of vomiting, a year of worrying about bleeding, a year of not eating, a year of fatigue, a year of waiting up to this moment, a year of fear, my body and I decided we were done.
That’s when I had my first panic attack.
I looked over at my husband and our girl in the corner. They looked really happy. The doctors were there, daddy was watching, she was in good hands. He just fed her too! Meanwhile, I’m laying on this table and they say okay, we’re going to close you up.
Huh? Okay well they opened me up so now they’ll close me up… My body lay there unable to do anything on its own. To move. To function. All my guts were there spilled on the table and they were trying to put me back together as if nothing ever happened. I freaked out. I couldn’t breathe. I felt like I was going to die. I started gasping but I couldn’t get air. I look over to my anesthesiologist who seemingly looks calm. Everyone looks calm except for me. Why aren’t you guys all freaking out?! I’m dying here, I think to myself.
I see your oxygen on the monitor, you’re okay, try to take to calm down can I hold your hand? I nod and cry. That’s it. It’s okay. You’re okay. Your doctors? They’re really good doctors. Me? I’ve been doing this for a long long time. Try to relax okay? I’m here watching you the whole time. They’re almost finished, it’ll be done soon. He smiled and tried his best. Slowly my body did start to calm and I could breathe again. Woah.
Just then my husband and baby come back. Do you want to hold her he says?
I can’t even begin to tell him, well honey I just had a panic attack and felt like I was dying but yes sure. I’ll hold the baby. I said none of that. Instead I smiled and nodded. I really did want to hold her. It was great. She lay on my chest and we just stared at each other. She was so little yet so awake. So quiet, so observant already. She curious and soft and looked into our eyes. Just perfect.
There’s more the story. About how little she was. How after that first feeding, she refused to eat for a long time and the words feeding tube had to be thrown around. She was also so little she couldn’t sit in her car seat without losing oxygen meaning we couldn’t bring her home to her sisters as soon as we had hoped. The kicker? I was in so much pain. So much. The more pain meds they gave me, the more I ached. It was an awful feedback loop. I’m still in it now. That’s how this blog was born.
Happy 1st birthday baby girl. And happy 1st anniversary to the day they cut a baby out of me. We’re going to see our sweet friends again today, the family that has kept me sane through the pandemic and even the years before that. I can’t wait.
Theres so much to unpack. I’m just happy I’m in a place now where I can write about this. To feel my sorrow and still want to share the joy. If this resonates with you or encourages you to share your own birth story, please do so. I’d love to hear from you friend. For now, trudge on dear mama the world needs you.
XO,
MWAP
Interested in reading?
www.hyperemesis.org/about-hyperemesis-gravidarum/
This Too Shall Last by K. J. Ramsey
The Body Keeps The Score by Bessel Van Derk Kolk
Healing Your Body Naturally After Childbirth by Dr Jolene Brighten, ND