Anonymous

PPROM.

*Preterm premature rupture of membranes (PPROM) is a pregnancy complication where the amniotic sac breaks before 37 weeks gestation, before labor begins.

Sharing this with the hope that others will find comfort, hope and light in what can truly seem like the darkest of times. 

I was just shy of 24 weeks when my water broke. I woke up at 5am feeling like I had peed myself. When I turned on the lights, it looked like a bloodbath. And yet I felt completely fine. No contractions. No pain. No fever.

Convinced I was miscarrying, we rushed to the ER. I was quickly hooked up to the monitor, IVs were placed, labs were drawn. It was organized chaos and yet in my mind time felt like it was standing still. 

Then we all heard a heartbeat. Somehow, someway, our baby still had a heartbeat. I was diagnosed with preterm premature rupture of membranes, aka PPROM, and once again the organized chaos resumed. IV fluids, steroids, antibiotics, ultrasounds and a ride to the hospital with a more advanced NICU.

The first week I spent in the hospital was, for lack of a better word, depressing. I was incredibly scared. I barely slept. I had no appetite. Short of getting a few ultrasounds done, I barely left my room. I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to see all of these other women with, what I assumed, were healthy pregnancies, thriving babies, and joyous family members visiting them. 

After a week of daily pity parties, I told myself something needed to change and with the help of the nurses, it did. I had the luxury of “working from home” and forced myself into a routine: wake up, get ready, vitals, breakfast, NST, walk around the floor, work, vitals, lunch, walk, work, vitals, walk, dinner, facetiming, NST, Netflix and puzzles, vitals, and then bed. 

I celebrated each normal spot check, each normal NST. The goal was to make it to 34 weeks and I kept a daily countdown. The hours turned into days and the days turned into weeks. Just shy of 34 weeks, placental insufficiency forced an urgent c-section and just like that, the saga was over. Or so I thought. 

Our baby spent 3 weeks in the NICU. After a tumultuous first 48hrs, things settled down for our baby and he started to thrive. I however, felt helpless. I was not prepared for this part of our journey. It felt harder and more daunting than the 2.5 months I had just spent being in a pseudo prison. 

But in due time, I adjusted and focused on the positive. Nothing about my pregnancy or start to motherhood went as I expected it to. Yet everything about it was miraculous and a testament to the astonishing advances of modern medicine, the passion of those working in healthcare, and the resilience that we can channel in the most difficult situations.