Tara's Story
PPROM at 33 weeks.
December 2020. COVID restrictions.

No time to pack a bag.

Founder of The Rainbow Room Fund. 🌈

If this feels familiar, you’re not alone.

I didn’t pack my bag.

I was 33+4, and I woke up to a trickle. It was my first pregnancy, and I assumed this was when I started to pee myself. I got up, fiddled around, and went to the bathroom about five times before I stopped being able to convince myself that it was pee. I knew it wasn’t. And I had to wake up my anxious father-to-be and tell him we were calling the on-call doc. She said all the normal, right things. We will check it out and know for sure. Later I was told she knew just from my phone call.

It was December 2020, the second wave of COVID. We had locked ourselves in our house to not be exposed. The last thing I wanted was to have to deliver by myself because he couldn’t come with me. We got to OB, were checked out, and told I had PPROM. I was getting admitted and dad couldn’t stay. We took a picture, sent it to our family with a “surprise, my water broke” note, and said goodbye at the double doors to 31200. I wasn’t in labor.

I talked to my OB. I’d stay until I went into labor, or I would be induced at 36 weeks on Christmas Day. I was mentally prepared for my January baby. Then she said, “We will have the NICU come for a consult.” I’m sorry, what? This was not on my radar. I was a mess.

The funny thing was that I had a dream about a week prior to all of this that I went into labor and didn’t have my bag packed. I still hadn’t packed it.

Dad-to-be had to pack one for me and brought the biggest duffel bag we owned, stuffed with more than I thought I needed. But we had no idea how long I’d be there.

I got a roommate. We were told the story of The Rainbow Room by the manager. It was the room we were in. I won’t do that story justice here. We quickly became each other’s support system because we couldn’t have visitors. We walked to get coffee and the good cookies. We cried together. Thank God she was there.

I finished my semester of grading in that room because they said I could work, and what else was I doing? Grades got in on time. My friends and colleagues sent us so many care packages, Christmas decorations, and flowers. I needed that. Luckily my tree was up and decorated at home. Nothing else was ready. My sister helped get bottles and pumping parts sterilized and so many things set up. First-time parents during COVID was a different beast, needing support.

At 34+5, at the end of the day my back started to ache. I thought I was sore from the bed and from starting PT. It didn’t go away. Back labor is not fun, but I was in denial that I was contracting. I was up all night, walking the halls, in total denial. At 6:30 they checked me and put me on the monitor. By 9:30 a.m. we were in the high-risk delivery unit waiting. And waiting. Dad-to-be was able to come now that I was on this unit. I needed sleep and got a cocktail of meds to help with that, but it stopped the labor. Back to 31200 at 9:30 p.m. Dad had to go home. We called him back at 2:30 a.m.

This time we moved down the hall where I’d get my epidural and Pitocin. We started pushing at 10 a.m. By noon I was starting to fall asleep between contractions for two minutes at a time. Just before 1 p.m., 36 hours after labor started, I delivered a healthy 5 lb 12 oz baby boy, vacuum-assisted (cue “Hollywood screams”). He was taken to the NICU for observation but was okay.

Back on 31200 post-delivery was familiar, but it was so hard to hear the babies crying who were with their parents. The baby needed to stay in the special care nursery another night, and we were discharged after nine days in the hospital. Coming home without my baby was necessary but one of the hardest things I’ve ever experienced in my entire life. The next day he failed his car seat test. I tried to figure out pumping and breastfeeding and walked aimlessly around the hospital, fighting back tears throughout the day. After passing the second car seat test, two clueless parents brought a two-day-old preemie home to figure it all out. We got there after a long six weeks of trying triple feeding and eventually exclusively pumping. He caught up on his milestones, and you’d never know that his entry into this world was not at all what we anticipated.

This wasn’t my only stay on 31200. After my second was born, I developed preeclampsia at home. I had pregnancy-induced hypertension with baby one, so this wasn’t entirely surprising. But I did the denial thing again, trying to convince myself it wasn’t a headache and my blood pressure really wasn’t 165 at first. Magnesium is really terrible.

The nurses and staff on 31200 are fantastic and are near and dear to my heart. After we had baby one, we started a fund dedicated to supporting nursing education, conference attendance, and certification expenses for the unit. Anyone can donate to it by reaching out to the nurse manager. It’s affectionately called the Rainbow Room Fund. These nurses become your family while you’re there. They deserve the world.

Thanks for letting me share my story. I don’t believe I had a traumatic birthing experience, but I was deeply affected by it. I hope this helps someone. And remember to pack your bag.