The Final Days

Over the next couple of days, I had the opportunity to speak with many doctors, including my own. In fact, consulted with three OB's and one perinatologist with a lot of experience with pprom (preterm premature rupture of membranes). Their biggest concern was that I would get an infection that could come on quickly and cause me to get sepsis, lose my reproductive organs, or worse.

"The risk did not outweigh the benefit" was the recurring theme of their opinion. If I did not get an infection and we continued with the pregnancy, I would still most likey go into labor. If that did not happen, the baby would be born with pulmonary hyperplasia- underdeveloped lungs and could die at birth or shortly thereafter. The cord could become prolapsed without the fluid needed to protect it and then oxygen would not get to the brain, causing brain damage or death. Plus, muscle development would be curtailed since the uterus was literally closing in on baby. She could make it- no one would say it was impossible, but it would have to be a miracle. I felt that the pregnancy in itself was a miracle and I was almost willing to take that risk. She was, after all, my baby. As a mother, I would do anything to protect her. I love her more than life itself.

I was heartbroken. My husband and family were only worried about me at this point. The risk to me and my future children was too great. What if I went on and I lost my reproductive organs and we lost the baby too? Then how would I feel? What if I died? They needed me to be ok first.

On Friday, I asked for one more ultrasound. As I was wheeled down on the stretcher to radiology, I prayed for a miracle. I guess it wasn't my time for one. There was no fluid at all and the tech noted that the baby looked more like 10 weeks due to the fact that my uterus was pretty much crushing her.

I consented to induce labor at 2:00 pm and we began the process at 3:00 pm. When the doctor placed the pills in my cervix to begin labor, he noted that my cervix was already 2 cm dilated- my body had already begun the process and labor would have occured anyway.

I was in labor for over 22 hours. At 11:09 am, she literally popped out. At 1:30 pm, the placenta followed.

Doug and I had a chance to hold Sally Ann and cry for the loss of the family that wasn't. They dressed her in a cute little pink cover. I kissed her. She was cold. She had died at some point in the labor process. They gave us foot prints and hand prints ss our consolation prize. This was supposed to be a happy occasion. I wish the memories of my baby were happy, but nothing can take away the fact that she was MY baby.