Natalie's Story.
Unexpected pregnancy.
A shortened cervix at 22 weeks.
An emergency C-section at 31 weeks.
Six days recovering without her baby.
Nearly four weeks in the NICU.
Learning how quickly everything can change.
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For starters, my pregnancy was unplanned, so I found out somewhat late in the game. Although an immeasurable blessing, it comes with a very intense sense of overwhelm and under-preparedness. I felt like I had to get very educated very fast. I couldn’t consume enough information at that point. I was reading books, listening to podcasts, watching videos, and spending way too much time on Reddit. I realized pretty quickly that wasn’t healthy, so I decided to just roll with it. As a treat to myself before I became a mom, I booked a trip with my best friend to Ireland. I delayed my 20-week scan by two weeks to go.
When I attended my scan when I returned, I could tell that the sonographer was getting uncomfortable during the scan, so she left and went to review it with her team. They returned and confirmed I had an insufficient cervix. With very little understanding of what this meant, I was sent away to return in one week to remeasure and see if it was just the position of the baby. When I returned, I was 24 weeks. During the appointment, they confirmed I was again measuring short and dilated 1 cm.
At this time, I was admitted into the antepartum unit overnight for observation, for the first time in my entire life, alone. The following morning, I was sent home with pretty basic instructions: “Don’t change anything, but be prepared for anything. You will go into labor early, but we don’t know when. We recommend relocating closer to the hospital.” I then received multiple rounds of steroid shots, which required me to check into Strong L+D triage and get huge needles shoved into my thighs. This was supposed to help the baby’s lungs develop faster since we knew he’d deliver prematurely. Following that diagnosis, I was required to have an ultrasound and technical cervical check every week. If you’ve ever experienced either of those things, you understand how incredibly invasive that is. This lasted for nine additional weeks.
I woke up at 5:12 a.m. on June 27th, realizing my water had broken. Given that my baby shower, which was a very large party, was scheduled for the following day, I was in complete denial. I went back to bed until 7:30, where I woke up again and realized there was no denying what was happening. I woke my partner up, got myself ready with literally no idea what to bring, dropped my stepson off at his grandparents', and headed to Strong. We checked in at 10:45. I had no contractions until 11:30. At that point, I went into full back labor with no time to make any decisions. I was in the triage room until they confirmed the baby was in distress and a C-section was required immediately. My partner gowned up, I signed the consent paperwork, and away we went.
As we got to the OR, the surgeon wouldn’t let my partner in since it was an emergency and I’d be under general anesthesia. I kept moving and he stopped at the door. When I realized what was going on, I felt the most intense, deep fear I have ever felt in my life, for not only myself, but for the baby that was about to be extracted from my body, with no one there to advocate for him. Moments later, a nurse I had never met before, with bright pink glasses, held my hand and told me everything would be okay.
I woke up a few hours later in the recovery room with no idea what happened. I was alone, in a dark room, and very confused. A nurse popped in almost immediately, let me know the baby was born and my family was waiting for me, and gave me my first fundal massage, which is indescribable. From there, I was transferred to the antepartum unit where I was admitted for six days. I didn’t get to meet my son until almost eight hours later. During those six days, I was very alone, very medicated, watched a lot of TV, and ate a lot of ice cream cups.
My son, Charley, was in the NICU for almost four weeks. We were lucky enough to have a place at Ronald McDonald House for the majority of the time. He was 4.6 pounds. He progressed every week, just as everyone wanted him to. Regardless of how well he was doing, this was the most anxiety-inducing experience that I could ever imagine. Seeing your baby, so small and helpless, taped up with tubes and wires is terrifying. We were lucky that he was so strong, and it ended up being the best-case scenario, given the situation.
I am incredibly grateful for the doctors, residents, nurses, aides, and everyone who was there to help me through this experience. I somehow was able to put my head down and get through it. However, looking back now, it was incredibly traumatic and life-changing. Postpartum breaks you open and resets everything you ever knew, especially when you do not get the euphoric experience of immediate skin-to-skin, the golden hour, and all that goes with it. It comes with a lot of grief, stress, anger, and confusion.
After 3.5 weeks, we were discharged and headed home. I was overjoyed and so proud, of both my baby and myself. We survived. We were moving forward. We were finally able to go home! Looking back now, support from a foundation like this would have changed my experience in such a positive way. This kind of support is so necessary, and I’m so glad it exists. No matter what, it’s a difficult experience, and hospitals are scary. Thank you for doing what you do. From one NICU mom to another, THANK YOU.
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