This week is and always will be the hardest week of my life. November 28th marks the beginning of the end. Two years ago, November 28th was on a Monday. It was the first day back at work after Thanksgiving break and the beginning of what was supposed to be my last week of work before Stella and Joy were born. I woke up, worked a normal day, and went home. Zach was home and came with me to my NST that night, something he didn’t normally do. Usually, it was a boring 20-30 minutes where I just sat in a hospital bed with the monitors on my belly and listened the girls’ heartbeats.
On that Monday, the nurse noticed my blood pressure was pretty high, higher than normal. She decided to call the on call doctor who then ordered a preeclampsia panel. One urine sample and several vials of blood later, we now sat and waited for the results. While we were waiting the monitors stayed on and we could hear the soft thuds of Stella & Joy’s hearts in the background. The nurse came in and told me my panel came back borderline, but wasn’t enough to admit me and consider it preeclampsia yet. I was told to go home, put my feet up, and not return to work anymore. I had an ob appointment the next day so they said to just rest and relax as much as possible until my appointment and hopefully my blood pressure would go down.
Looking back now, after having a successful pregnancy at a different practice I realize how naive and uneducated I was. With Oliver, I had a clicker to record movements during my NSTs. I was taught what to look for and what to pay attention to. I was told that hiccups don’t count as kicks or movement because they are involuntary. With Stella and Joy, I didn’t even know what kick counts were. I was always asked if I had felt them move, but I didn’t know about actually sitting and tracking and monitoring their movements. I didn’t know that I should be looking for certain patterns in their movements. If I only I knew then what I know now.
On Tuesday, November 29, Zach and I went to our regular ob appointment as scheduled. The doctor noticed my blood pressure was still pretty high as was my swelling, even after a full day of rest and doing nothing, so she sent us back to the hospital for another round of NSTs. She had called ahead so they were ready for us when we got there. I already knew the routine so I changed into my gown, got in the bed, and waited for them to hook up the monitors. Something felt off from the beginning. My normal nurses weren’t there and the doctor I liked the least in the practice was there. Still, Zach and I were excited and waited. His car was fully packed, we were as prepared as we were ever going to be and we knew, at any moment they could say it was time and deliver the babies.
They took my blood pressure and it was still high, or at least I assume so. The nurse kept turning the monitor away from me, saying seeing the numbers would only make it higher. The girls weren’t really cooperating that day and seemed to pop on and off the monitor. To doctor came in, looks over the NST strip and checked my blood pressure one more time. He seemed so aloof. He didn’t seem to think anything was too bad. The nurse seemed to point a few things out, but he seemed to blow her off. He never did an ultrasound. He sent me home and told me to continue to rest. I was supposed to have another NST that Thursday, December 1st, but he told me to just wait and come back on Friday instead.
Looking back, this is my biggest regret. I should have never left. As much as I regret it and feel guilty, I feel even more anger. Knowing what I know now, I would have been such a better advocate for myself and my daughters. I would have made them run a second preeclampsia panel. I would has requested an ultrasound and biophysical profile. I would have spoken up and asked the nurse what she was pointing out. Why did she feel the need to point it out? Obviously it was something, but the doctor blew it off. I was only 8 days away from my scheduled c-section, I should have just made them keep me. But I didn’t. I didn’t do anything of things. I didn’t act because I didn’t know.
For the rest of the week, I sat on the couch and did as little as possible. I was really having trouble walking and moving at that point and I knew Zach had to work on Friday so I asked my mom if she would take to the hospital for my NST. The hospital has a pretty large hill from the parking lot to the entrance so I needed someone to drop me off at the door. This was the first week that I had someone with me at every appointment. Usually I went to the NSTs by myself, especially if Zach was working. They were kind of boring and it was close to my house so it really wasn’t a big deal. I will never go to an appointment by myself again. Even now, after having a healthy baby, I still know what could happen and can’t imagine being there alone.
Friday, December 2nd I went in for the NST with my mom. I forewarned her that it was boring and just a lot of sitting around. My regular nurses were there this time so I was very relaxed. I sat on the bed as the nurse started hooking up the monitors. She put the first monitor on, to watch for contractions. As she was putting gel on the second probe and getting ready to put it on Stella I joked with my mom, saying that this was where the girls would play hide and seek and we had to hunt a little bit to find the heartbeats. Usually, as soon as she put the monitor on you could hear the heartbeat faintly in the background, then she would search for the perfect placement right over the heart. This time was different. This time there was no faint sound. There was no sound at all. There was nothing but silence and stillness. The nurses face said it all. She tried moving the probe around a few more times but still there was silence.
The nurse rushed to get a doctor to bring in an ultrasound machine. I wanted to stay positive, but I already knew. She was gone. My precious Stella was gone. As they took off the NST probes and started the ultrasound, I saw it. I saw the emptiness. I saw the blank, black spot where her heart should have been flickering and fluttering away. She was gone. As they switched sides to check on Joy, I already knew, she was gone too. Once again, I saw the empty, black spot in her chest, noticeably absent of that glorious flicker. Both of them. Both of my daughter were gone, just like that. Without warning or signs or symptoms or anything, they were just gone.
My world shattered. My dreams collapsed. Everything I knew, and loved, and dreamed and hoped for was gone. I felt as empty as those black spots on the ultrasound machine. I screamed, I cried, I begged. I just wanted to understand, but it was too late. The worst still wasn’t over though, Zach was still in Connecticut. I had to call him and tell what happened. I knew that with one phone call, I was going to ruin his world and his life too. The rest of that night is very much a blur. There are parts I remember, and parts I try to block out.
December 2nd my beautiful daughters were born sleeping. They entered this world silently, yet they left such a huge impact. My life has forever been changed by them. They made me a mother. They showed me just how deep unconditional love can go. They taught me just how strong I could be when I had no other choice. Stella Grace and Joy Joan May have been stillborn, but they were still born. I will miss them forever and treasure them always.
