Gentle Calm

I wrote in my last blog entry that I wasn’t worried about the odd things that started happening near the end of my pregnancy. I was in good hands, being watched carefully. I was at the weekly check-up point. Everything was okay.

EERRRT, Hindsight yelled. Wrong answer.

Things change quickly in pregnancy. And it’s hard to see the bigger picture when you’re measuring day-to-day. Over and above that fact, my body doesn’t play by the rules.

So, at thirty-nine weeks pregnant, I drove myself thirty minutes down the highway for my prenatal appointment. I waddled into the office, a little out of breath and a lot exhausted. We discovered another five pounds in water weight when the nurse weighed me. My feet were white Shrek feet. My blood pressure was high.

My doctor was very calm. She didn’t tell me what the blood pressure numbers were, and I didn’t think to ask. She simply told me that I needed to go to the hospital straight away. Her voice was even and soothing when she explained that the nurses would check the baby with a non-stress test, and the on-duty OBGYN would check my cervix and decide whether or not to admit me and induce.

With a smile, she said I would more than likely be a mom in the next few days.

The receptionist offered to walk me to the hospital, but I didn’t want to leave my car in the wrong parking lot, so I drove. She told me later that she was really worried about me and the baby.

But when you’re that sick, people do everything possible to keep you from freaking out. Soft and gentle tones and facial expressions are a must for everyone with high blood pressure.

They were expecting me in the maternity ward. After they got me settled into a comfy green gown and onto an exam bed for the non-stress test, I called Tim. I was eerily calm myself, though only as a reflection of what I’d seen so far.

The baby was still doing great – no worries there. I was admitted into the only single room on the ward. In case you’re wondering, that is not a good sign, but I didn’t know it at the time. The single room happened to be right next to the nurse station.

They were monitoring my blood pressure every thirty minutes. Again, the nurses didn’t tell me how high it was, and I was too stunned to ask. The OBGYN decided to induce. He told me that it would be a long process, so it was okay for Tim to finish his day at work, pack our overnight bag (yes, I was unprepared), and then drive to the hospital.

When he got there, he saw the numbers on the blood pressure machine. 199 / 119 (with medication).

No wonder people were worried! Normal blood pressure is below 120 / 80, and hypertension is defined as blood pressure consistently higher than 140 / 90.

Preeclampsia is a serious complication that can result in the death of the mother and child. It can only be cured by giving birth. The good news: the baby was developed enough to make this a very attractive option. If I was diagnosed with preeclampsia before the baby was ready to survive outside of my uterus, we might have had to wait.

Also under the category of good news: I have no doubt that I would have died, maybe my baby too, if we weren’t in a hospital. As little as eight-five years ago, we also probably would have died.

What happened in the next few days is a blur, but I’ve pieced it together with some help.

Anxiety vs Reason

Two amazing things happened at the same time: health and pregnancy.

I had faith that I would have enough energy to keep up with the family we were starting. My heart was light and strong.

At the beginning of my pregnancy I worried more than most soon-to-be-first-moms. Every missed beat was followed by a rumbling through my chest. Because hearts pump the blood that carries oxygen, I had some anxious moments wondering if the baby in my belly was getting enough to survive.

I asked my doctor, instead of obsessing, and I trusted her answer. Deep breathing calmed me down on several levels.

Since diagnosed with cardiomyopathy, I have been the luckiest girl in the world. My heart was fixed with medication, not surgery or a transplant. I am alive and captivated by life. We got pregnant quickly.

I also had an amazing, easy pregnancy up until the very end.

No morning sickness, just a little nausea at night; no trouble sleeping in the first or second trimester, just weird dreams about the huge upcoming change; no hemorrhoids or swollen feet or hairy nipples.

And the baby did great, too, in my belly. Every ultrasound showed movement and all the good stuff you’re supposed to see in ultrasounds.

Yoga kept me focused, limber and relaxed. If you haven’t tried it, try it. Even when things started to get a bit weird, yoga helped me keep it together.

Suddenly, at the end of my perfect pregnancy, I wasn’t peeing as much as I should have been, I started gaining about five pounds a week and my blood pressure was up every other prenatal check. By my thirty-eighth week, my face was so fat that I could hardly find my eyes. And those thin ankles I was telling you about could no longer fit into my boots.

I wasn’t worried though, because the baby was still doing great. I kind of thought I had been getting off light up until that point; I was just paying my dues.

Sometimes reason keeps you moving, and sometimes it trips you up.