I was in my eighth month of pregnancy, and my boyfriend and I were on our way to Peoria for another ultrasound. We drove for an hour and a half, discussing if our little one was growing, and how we couldn’t wait another four weeks until he was born. At the ultrasound appointment, the doctor had told us that our baby was not doing so well. She had told my boyfriend and me that we needed to get to the hospital and have an emergency Cesarean as soon as possible.
All I could think to do was cry. I had so many emotions and thoughts running through my head. What was going to happen to my baby? Was he going to be okay? Would I be okay? I had another four weeks of my trimester left, and I was very scared and unprepared. The entire hour and a half drive home, I felt like I was going insane with all of these thoughts in my head. I had no idea what to do, except to gather what we could, and head back to the Quad Cities.
My boyfriend and I arrived at Trinity Hospital two hours after the ultrasound. We checked ourselves in, and then a nurse showed us to our room and helped us get settled. The doctor had come, and took all the necessary steps to get me ready for my hospital stay. He explained to me that if anything were to go wrong with the baby, the heart beat monitor would sound an alarm and a nurse would be in here right away. Ten minutes after the doctor left, the alarm went off, and a nurse came rushing in. I was told something was stressing out the baby, and if the alarm were to go off one more time, the ultrasound technician would give me a sonogram to see if they could find anything wrong.
Another hour went by, and the alarm went off once again. The nurse came in and ordered another nurse to get the ultrasound technician in my room as soon as possible. The technician came into the room minutes after being called with her big machine and bottle of jelly ready to go. When my baby was up on the screen, we could all see my baby tugging at the umbilical cord. The nurses told me that my Cesarean would have to happen sooner than they thought, and said they would start prepping me right away.
I was getting very scared at this point. I put on my hair net and walked down the hall to where I would be delivering my baby. As soon as I walked in, I was blinded by how bright the room was. Everything was so white and clean; I could barely open my eyes. The nurses directed me to the operating table and told me they were going to be giving me a spinal tap, and said that I would feel a slight pinch in my back. They were lying – it was terrible. Soon after, I was paralyzed from the neck down and couldn’t move or feel a thing. My boyfriend was right there beside me as they put the curtain up and told me they were going to start the operation right away. I was scared, started to cry, and felt nauseated. I told one of the nurses I thought I was going to get sick, so they gave me some medicine to ease the sickness. The medicine they gave me made me feel very tired, and for some reason I could not hear anything. A few minutes later, my child was born. I wasn’t able to hold him, but just look at him. He was so beautiful, and I was so happy. After some nurses took him away and sent him to the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit, I slowly slipped into a deep sleep.
When I awoke a few hours later, I realized my baby wasn’t in the room with me, and I couldn’t see him. I was told that he was in the NICU, and that I could see him. They showed me pictures of him in his tiny incubator with all of these IV’s and tubes in him. I started to cry.
A few minutes later, my doctor came in to talk to me about the delivery. He told me how they were going to send my placenta in for further study because it was an extremely abnormal placenta. He also told me that the low amniotic fluids and placenta were the reason my baby was so small. He was an extremely health boy and had no complications. Hearing that he was healthy made me relieved; since it was the first time anyone had told me he was okay.
I had stayed in the hospital for four days, and when it was time to leave, my son could not come with me. He had to stay in the nursery until he was at four pounds; in case anything was to go wrong. During his stay, I went to the hospital multiple times a day until he could come home.
Now my son is almost four-years-old, and the smartest child I have ever known. He tells me many stories of astronauts and outer-space aliens, and talks to me about the Indians and the animals at the zoo. I am thankful for my child and glad that everything has turned out great for him.