Hi, my name is Beth and I spent 8 weeks and 4 days admitted to the hospital, a full 60 days. I was being closely monitored with additional ultrasounds based on my first pregnancy being preterm, 2 back-to-back pregnancy losses, and my age. Around 18 weeks, we had an ultrasound where they mentioned placenta previa and vasa previa. I had never heard of either but was told not to worry, it’s still very early. At 20 weeks, I started bleeding and we rushed to the hospital. The baby was okay and we were sent home. At 23 weeks and 6 days, I had another bleed and this time everything changed.
I was being admitted, but first transferred by ambulance to Strong for closer monitoring. The fear I had was immense. Was I going to be okay? Was the baby going to be okay? Were my two older kids, 8 and 10, going to be okay? Everything looked stable and the bleeding stopped, but the doctors felt I needed to stay until delivery with the hope to get me to 32 weeks and then 34 or longer. Vasa previa is really dangerous as it’s a fetal vessel that’s blocking the cervix, so a C-section is required. If you go into labor or the vessel breaks, it can be fatal to the baby. Placenta previa is dangerous and requires a C-section also, but dangerous for me with hemorrhaging.
The days in the hospital were a blur. The emotions of being alone, even with visitors many times, multiple visitors a day, was unbelievably challenging. Not being home for Halloween, then Thanksgiving, and likely Christmas and New Year’s was so hard. We made the best of it with celebrating Thanksgiving and a virtual baby shower in a conference room at the hospital, but it was hard. I constantly had fear and wondered if I would know if something was wrong. We were being monitored daily and sometimes multiple times a day, having vitals and the baby’s heart rate checked every 3–4 hours, even overnight, at least twice-a-day doctor visits, an IV in at all times just in case we needed to deliver, weekly ultrasounds, and blood work every 3 days. I lost count, but at one point I knew I had had 76 pokes for blood. I had 3 blood clots from the IVs and at one point asked for it to be removed.
At almost 33 weeks, my medical team said we really need to put one back in if there’s an emergency, and thankfully we did as we delivered 3 days later. As the weeks went on, we planned delivery. We felt 35 weeks was a good time to schedule our C-section, and then flu season hit. The hospital visitor policy changed and children had to be 12 years old to visit. We reevaluated, spoke with the doctors and the NICU, and decided to move our delivery to 34 weeks, which was Christmas Eve.
We knew we’d have NICU time but prayed it wouldn’t be long. We had to look at our mental health, the risks with a longer pregnancy with vasa previa, and what was best for our family. At 33 weeks, I texted my husband in the middle of the night that I just felt we were going to have an emergency between then and our C-section. Little did I know it would be the next morning. I woke up and felt like something was pouring out of me. I went to the bathroom and there was blood.
I pulled the help line and within seconds my room had nurses all in it. They got me back to bed as the doctors came, and I called my husband as they were checking me and told him to come. The doctors said we’re going to the OR. Terrified is an understatement of how I felt. My husband wasn’t there and I didn’t know if the baby or I were going to be okay. I walked barefoot with a sheet around me to the stretcher in the hall, and then the team started to run down the hall with me. There were at least 50 doctors and nurses in the hall supporting. I got to the OR and still wasn’t sure if I was being put under general anesthesia, but was too scared to ask. I trusted the team and it didn’t matter. One doctor was holding my hand comforting me while everyone was doing what they needed around me. Within seconds, I was out.
I woke up in the basement recovery, didn’t have any medicine because they needed to move quickly and the pain was unbearable, but my baby was okay. I was okay. From the time I pushed the help button to the time he was born was less than 15 minutes. While my time in the antepartum unit was so emotional, draining, lonely, and scary; we are forever grateful that our son was born healthy and that our medical team knew exactly what needed to be done to keep us safe for 8.5 weeks. We are forever thankful. 🥹
