Grace's Story

I want to start this by saying I don’t believe what happened to me was anyone's fault. I truly believe that everyone involved did the best they could in the crazy situation that happened. I am thankful for the doctors who saved my life, and I am thankful to the nurses who stood by my side and helped me through a hard time. There is only one nurse who I feel wasn’t professional and possibly made the situation worse, but I won’t name her because we are all human and make mistakes and have bad days. I place no blame on her, but I feel she could’ve handled things better.

I have wanted to be a mom for as long as I can remember, so when I found out I was pregnant, it was the best news of my life. My dreams were coming true, and everything was falling into place. The pregnancy was great. I had no health issues during the pregnancy, and everything went smoothly. Even my heart did great, which was a relief since I have a CHD, and we monitored it the whole time. As the time approached for me to go into labor, I was definitely getting nervous about delivering my baby, but the excitement of meeting my baby boy calmed me every time I started to worry.

It was a Tuesday morning when I felt my first contraction. Honestly, it just felt like a small cramp, and I didn’t realize what it was at first until I felt it more and more. I also had a doctor’s appointment that day around 1 PM, so I was able to confirm that it was a contraction. While I was there, we talked about a possible induction if labor didn’t progress within a day or two. I also chose to have a membrane sweep done while there to hopefully get the process moving. After that, things just got weird. Driving home, the contractions felt more intense and more sporadic—it was a little overwhelming. When I got home, I tried to relax, but it was really hard to. I downloaded a contraction timer app and saw that my contractions were anywhere between 2 to 3 minutes apart, but they weren’t consistent, so it just felt like I couldn’t relax. I reached out to my doula, and she said that the baby’s head may be in a weird position, causing my uterus to try and contract it into a better position. She gave me some things to do, such as child’s pose and walking sideways up and down the steps to try and get his head into a better position. These didn’t help, and it started to get worse, so I called labor and delivery, and they said to wait about an hour, and if it didn’t go away, to come in. Well, around 9 PM, my husband and I packed up and went to the hospital because it didn’t change. I remember telling myself to just breathe because I could get to the hospital and get an epidural.

When we got to the hospital, everything moved relatively swiftly. They took some blood and made me pee in a cup. My blood pressure was through the roof, so they were worried about preeclampsia. I honestly thought there was no way this was possible because I had just been at the doctor’s a couple of hours ago, and everything was fine. I told them once I got the epidural and the pain stopped, my blood pressure would go down—which it did, and I was thrilled. But shortly after the epidural was in, the results came back, and I was preeclamptic. I was shocked, and this was the first moment I was honestly worried about everything. But they told me they were going to start me on magnesium and keep an eye on me, but I shouldn’t worry. Then, before they could get the magnesium started, my son’s heart rate dropped to 60 bpm, and I had about five people in the room trying to evaluate the problem. When people come running into the room, you know something is wrong. They had me turn on my left side, then turn on my right side. Then they had me get on my hands and knees. I remember praying through the whole thing and honestly laughing because that is just how I cope with things. They ended up giving me a shot to stop my contractions because I was contracting too often, and that’s what they believed was causing his heart rate to drop. They were right because his heart rate came back up. I remember thinking in the moment that I was right to come in so early because I knew I wasn’t that far into labor, but something just felt wrong.

From there, they got me on the magnesium drip, which they told me would make me feel weird, and honestly, the best way to describe it was being drunk but without the drowsy feeling. From here, things went pretty smoothly for a while. They did end up putting a little screw in my son’s head because the external monitors weren’t doing enough, and they also put on internal monitors to track my contractions better. My contractions never started back on their own, so they had to put me on Pitocin to restart them so we could get things moving. Wednesday morning, they broke my water, and everything was going well. That morning into the afternoon is when I had the nurse who just seemed like she was in a rush to do everything and maybe taking on too much.

That afternoon, I heard my IV start to beep and realized it was my epidural getting low. We called for the nurse, and she took about 20 minutes to come in. At this point, I started to feel my contractions again, which were pretty intense. She changed the bag, but something still wasn’t right. My doula and husband were trying to help with my pain, and I ended up on my hands and knees again. Just when I got comfortable, my doctor came in to check on me, and she actually made me lay back on my back so she could check how dilated I was. I was at 8 cm, so we were getting close to the end. I was in so much pain at this point because I was feeling everything.

My nurse said she would call anesthesiology to check on my epidural. I told her I didn’t mind if they looked, but if they needed to redo it, I didn’t want it because I was so close to the end and didn’t want another needle. She was a little pushy, insisting I should get a new one if needed, and was a little grouchy, even towards my doula and husband. I could honestly tell she didn’t like that I had a doula.

When they checked my IV, they said all looked good, but the pump needed to be primed. They fixed it, and I slowly started to feel the epidural kick back in. I was exhausted, in pain, and just ready for it all to be over.

Then things started to go wrong again. My contractions were all over the place, and I was dilating very slowly. Every time the contractions would start to normalize, the nurse would come in and mess with the IV, and they would go wonky again. Later, when the nurses switched shifts, I got a better nurse who helped me change positions to help me dilate. They tried to wean me off the Pitocin and then bring me back up, but by 5 AM Thursday morning, I was barely at 9.5 cm, and my uterus was just contracting all over the place. They decided to do a C-section.

I felt defeated because my body had failed me, and I was exhausted and nauseous.

When I got back to the OR, I was throwing up but had to stay lying down, so I was throwing up off to the side. When my husband and doula came in, they helped me not throw up all over myself. By the time they got my baby out and showed him to me, I was too exhausted and sick to care. I just wanted it all to be over.

Finally, it was done, and he was out and safe. They took me to the PACU and brought my son out. My husband got to hold him first, but then he brought him to me and laid him on my chest. That was when I felt this overwhelming peace flood over my body. My son was safe, and it was all over.

That lasted for maybe five minutes. Honestly, I don’t know how everything happened—it all happened too fast, and I felt so weak and tired. Suddenly, they rushed into the room. Apparently, they were checking on my uterus and I was gushing out blood. My son was taken off of me, though I don’t even remember by whom. Nobody was talking to me, and my husband disappeared. All I remember was my doula standing over me with her hand on my face, telling me to keep my eyes open and trying to keep me calm.

Then I was taken back into the OR. I was trying so hard to stay awake, not knowing they had given me something to relax me. At one point, I had to close my eyes—I was so tired and weak that I just couldn’t keep them open any longer. I just remember talking to God in my head and saying, “I’m going to close my eyes now, and if it’s your will, I will wake up again.”

My eyes opened, and there were three wonderful nurses standing over me in an ICU room. Honestly, three angels, and I will never forget their names. I asked them their names, and one was Ruth. I said, “Ruth, like in the Bible?” and we just talked for a little bit. Then an ultrasound tech or a doctor with an ultrasound machine came in, along with the doctor now on my case.

The nurse who wasn’t the most pleasant came back in and wouldn’t let my husband or doula in the room during the ultrasound. They were also packing my cervix with what felt like a giant tampon, and at this point, I could feel everything and this was all extremely painful. They were massaging my stomach to help my uterus, which hurt so badly I wanted to scream. My doula came in first, followed by my husband, who was with our baby. A doctor came in to talk a little, but all I remember is them saying there was a lot of bleeding. I was still bleeding, but not as much. They had a balloon-type device in my uterus to help stop the bleeding. They told me a hysterectomy was on the table if the bleeding didn’t stop, but I didn’t believe for a second that was actually going to happen.

Over the next couple of hours, we watched the bleeding, and it seemed to slow down. I was able to see my son, and things felt like they were getting better. My pastor and his wife came in to pray for healing over me, and everything felt okay. I felt like I could breathe again and I was in the clear.

Everyone left except my husband. Our son came up for one last visit for the evening. It was just my husband, my one nurse, and me in the room. I felt this warm feeling between my legs, and it honestly felt like my tampon had overfilled and needed to be changed. This is when the nurse looked and saw all the blood coming out again. The doctor came in, called a code, and started massaging my uterus, which was one of the worst pains I’ve ever felt, accompanied by her pulling blood clots from my cervix. I remember grabbing her wrist, digging my nails in, and screaming from the pain. I wanted to rip her hand off of me, but I knew she was helping so I was just squeezing her begging her to stop. My husband grabbed my other hand and tried to calm me down. I told him to call our family and tell them to get here. I knew this wasn’t good and we originally weren’t planning on having family in the hospital. The main doctor came in and started getting everything ready to go back to the OR. I remember asking if they were going to take my uterus out, and he said, “We are going to try everything we can to save it.” I remember being wheeled down the hall, staring at the ceiling with bright lights, just praying and thinking. Most of all, I just wanted to live to see my baby boy grow up.

We got to the OR, and they were trying to put me under, but none of my veins were cooperating, and they were having trouble getting the medicine in. I remember the doctor saying they needed to get in there and get started arguing with anesthesiology because I wasn’t under. Then I felt this ripping feeling on my belly, and I screamed. I’m not sure if they finally found a vein or if I passed out from the pain, but that was the last thing I remember.

I woke up in the middle of the night with a tube in my mouth. The first thing I wanted to ask was how my husband and baby were doing. They got my husband into my room, and that’s when he told me my uterus was gone. I remember crying, feeling like a part of me had been taken away. My ability to have more children and a part of what made me a woman was gone. But I was alive, and at least I have had the opportunity to heal from this and watch my son grow up.

It is now almost two years later, and while this was a horrible thing that happened to me, I’m doing okay. Honestly, I am more than okay—I’m flourishing and living life to the fullest because I am alive. I am ready to use my story to help others heal and to help people learn from my experience. I have a beautiful little boy who brings my life so much joy. If I had to do this all over again to have him, I would. Bringing him into this world was the best thing I’ve ever done.