Karli’s Side of the Story:
I have never been one to really believe in things like coincidences, serendipity, or other happenings that people like to believe were created by rainbows and butterflies. I guess you could say that I’m a realist in that way.
The thing is though, Bowie’s birth story has changed so much for me. It has changed my outlook on life, my belief in a higher power, and my overall thankfulness of this precious life we get to enjoy, not someday, but right now. You know those movies like The Butterfly Effect? I have always loved those – the ones that make you really think. The funny thing is, even though I have always enjoyed watching them, I never could ever say I could relate to the types of life experience depicted in those movies.
That now has changed. Two weeks ago, Jeff and I came so close to losing a loved one. For months of my pregnancy I had felt as though we would be bringing our baby home in a tiny coffin, instead of a carseat that looked much too big for our growing little bee. As I write this story down, I’m currently sitting in the NICU, with Jeff across the room from me holding sweet Bowie Lee being nourished by her feeding tube. This experience has brought us more close than any other event we have experienced together.
So where to begin… where to begin… there were so many small blessings, coincidences if you may, that led up to the arrival of Bowie. The reasons for these occurrences were not clear at the time, but after the fact? It sends me to my knees thinking about it all. Experiences like this don’t happen just by chance. I know that there is a reason that Bowie is here with us today, cuddling in Jeff’s arms, and smiling intermittently during her slumber.
It was Brody’s seventh birthday. He woke up to presents on the counter and excitement from his sisters wanting to know what toys were hidden inside. I had the day off, coincidently, because my doctor’s appointments (ultrasound, NST, and OB appointment) landed in the middle of the day with breaks in between, so it forced me to take a full day off. I was okay with that though, especially with it being Brody’s birthday.
I was so happy to take Brody and Bonnie to school that day. We stopped at Akin’s and got donuts for a special birthday breakfast. For some reason, I think because of anticipation nerves for my appointments later that day, I didn’t feel like buying a donut for myself. Blaire was done with her’s in two seconds though – so I had a little bite of what was leftover, and threw the rest away.
We had made candy kabobs for Brody’s class that day. As we entered the classroom, a little late for school (whoops), his classmates broke out into cheers. They were so happy to see the Birthday Boy arrive at school finally. (First graders are so cute.) After dropping off Brody, I drove across town and got Bonnie dropped off at preschool. Then I went home, saw Jeff still tucked away into bed, gave Blaire her iPad, and climbed in with him. I had been so tired during this pregnancy. Between being pregnant, and having Lupus, my over full-time work schedule really was taking a lot out of me.
Before I knew it, my alarm went off and it was time for me to start driving the 40 minute drive to the doctor’s clinic. I considered taking Blaire with me, just to give Jeff a little break, but decided against it when I thought about how long of a day it would be for her. Looking back, I’m SO incredibly glad I didn’t bring her. Not today.
As I was driving through town on my way to head to Wenatchee, a motorcycle police officer pulled me over. He showed his jerk-side, and gave me a ticket for using my phone at a stop light. So that sucked, but honestly I wasn’t in the mood to tell a sob story or anything else. Therefore, I just accepted the ticket and drove away while calling my clinic to let them know that I would be fifteen minutes late now. Yay.
During the ultrasound, I could tell that the ultrasound technician was checking things very carefully. It was taking awhile, and she kept going over and over the part with the blue and red blood. This is the area where they check on the umbilical cord. With a slightly worried face, she let me know that she would be right back and that she was going to go show the doctor the ultrasound pictures. As I waited in the ultrasound room, shirt up exposing my shiny jelly stomach, I felt worried.
But at the same time, I felt relieved.
I already KNEW something was wrong. I had known for months that something was wrong. When my doctor would end the appointments with a, “See you next Friday, but like always, if you feel worried about something or if you aren’t feeling your baby move, make an appointment to come back sooner!” and then I’d leave while questioning to myself, “Does she want me to walk out these clinic doors, then turn around immediately since I don’t feel one bit good about this pregnancy and since I am always worried?” And as far as the movement of the baby goes? On top of having an anterior placenta, I literally never feel her move.
As I waited on the ultrasound bed, wondering what she would come back and say, I looked forward to having some validation, finally, for how I had been feeling through the latter part of this pregnancy. The ultrasound technician returned, let me know that my doctor was busy with an emergency c-section, but that she had showed a different doctor instead. He just said to make sure I was present at my NST test later that day, and that Dr. Rohrbach would be back by then.
I had an hour to kill. While I had initially planned to go get lunch during this break, I didn’t feel like doing that at all. So I sat in my car, updated my family on our group text string, called Jeff, and called Quincy. I just wanted to talk so that the time would pass quicker, but I definitely didn’t feel like driving around or eating.
The NST test turned out to not be very reassuring. I found out that the BPP ultrasound test scored a 4/8, which is not very good at all. And so with the NST score combined with it, we were at a 4/10 – no bueno. This was a drastic change from the week before where I had been given a score of 10/10.
“I’m a bit worried,” I expressed to my doctor as she looked at the long paper recording the baby’s heart rate.
“To be honest, I am too. If I had my way, I’d keep you on monitors until you delivered the baby. But I know that isn’t very realistic since we are over 3 weeks away from your indiction date.” I love my doctor so much. I love her honesty, straight forwardness, and how she always makes me feel listened to.
She decided at that point that she didn’t want to stop monitoring me. She then sent me over to check into Labor and Delivery and let me know that she would really like me to stay there overnight. “Should I go home and pack an overnight bag?” Since home was 45 minutes away, she advised me not to do that and to instead just go straight to L and D. Alrighty then, this day got a lot more interesting all of a sudden.
I remember feeling calm as I laid on the hospital bed, looking around me, and wondering if this was a similar room to the one I had delivered Blaire in. Everyone kept asking me when was the last time I had eaten. I was so embarrassed – What pregnant lady goes almost all day long without eating? I promise you, this was not a normal day of eating for me! I’d reply that the last time I’d eaten was during breakfast, and that my day had just been so busy with the tests and everything. I didn’t let them know that the “breakfast” I was talking about was a single bite of donut though.
I entertained myself by writing a post on Facebook about what was going on, and shortly afterward, I got a text for Mary Anne, a lady from the church to ask if I wanted some company. I said yes, and she came over a few hours later. I was thankful to have her there to pass the time with and also to be another set of ears when doctors or nurses came by to check on me, ask me questions, and explain details.
All of a sudden, around 6pm, a doctor came in and explained, slightly more clearly, about what was going on. I was currently 33 weeks + 4 days. The Wenatchee Hospital (where I was at currently) only delivered babies who were older than 34 weeks. It surprised me that 3 days made such a huge difference to them, and plus, I just thought I was there for monitoring, not to deliver the baby. It was wayyyy too early for that. I still had three weeks until our planned 37 week induction! Either way, I figured that this was regular hospital protocol stuff, and they were just talking about all the possibilities.
Looking back on this moment, I should have taken the nurses and doctors a lot more seriously. They gave me a steroids shot in my right hip and explained that I would need another dose the following day for it to have the full effect. The steroids were supposed to help grow the baby’s lungs quicker in the case that we had to deliver the baby soon. I agreed to the steroid, still assuming I was only there for monitoring, and still under the impression that nothing was a big deal.
Another nurse came in, and again, checked to see if I had eaten anything that day. Embarrassed, I told her that I hadn’t eaten since 8:00 am that morning, but that it wasn’t normal for me not to eat, and that I really was a caring pregnant momma usually. The nurse told me that they were going to put me on a magnesium drip line, and she warned me that it would probably make me feel nauseous and a bit out of it for awhile. She felt bad that I was having this happen on an empty stomach, so she snuck me in some saltines, red jello, and a red popsicle. (Bless her.)
I couldn’t stomach the sugar in the popsicle, and so there it sat, melting in an empty water cup. The sight of that red liquid made my stomach hurt even more.
Meanwhile, Jeff was at home getting the kids ready for bed when I asked Mary Anne to give him a call after the Wenatchee doctor told me that they had decided to schedule me to be air flighted to Seattle. What the heck? This was all so dramatic. Why were they sending me all the way to Seattle for monitoring? Couldn’t I stay here? Yes, they don’t want to deliver a 33 week old baby, but I wasn’t going to have this baby this weekend anyway.
I’m sure Jeff was frantically trying to get the house ready, his bag packed, the kids in bed, and make a plan as to who would watch the kids when he left and they waited for his parents to arrive. (Jeff’s parents were at a Mariners game that night, and right after the game started, they got a call from Jeff letting them know that he needed their help, and that he would be going to Wenatchee to fly in the plane with me over to Seattle. Jeff’s parents left the game straightaway, even after spending $70 on tickets, and made it to our house at 10pm. We luckily have good neighbors and our friend, Kyle Slusher, was able to sit at our house while the kids slept.)
Jeff arrived, and we all did more waiting. The doctor had thought that the plane would be ready to leave at 9pm, but it ended up being more like 11:30pm before we got word that we would begin the transfer.
Finally the transporters from UW arrived, and worked to switch everything over to their equipment. It took a long time, and again, I was just confused as to why all of this was necessary in order to monitor me over the weekend. I was under the impression that they would watch me over the weekend and on Monday, the day that the baby turned 34 weeks, we would return to Wenatchee and I would continue to be closely monitored. Was flying in an airplane to Seattle for a couple days really worth all the trouble?
It felt like it took forever to get everything switched over. It was also interesting to listen to the banter back and forth of the employees from each hospital trying to tell the other one what the correct thing to do was. I remember I was placed on my left side, since the baby’s heart rate stayed more stable like that, wrapped in thick blankets, like a burrito, and had four seat belts around me, my legs stomach, chest… I was definitely secure. They also attached this very industrial tray type of piece over the top of my thighs that held the computer that was monitoring my and the baby’s vitals. The tray pressed against my legs uncomfortably, but I didn’t dare move because I didn’t want to effect the baby’s heart rate while we traveled. My right leg eventually fell asleep, and that made it more comfortable.
It seemed like we were finally ready to head out, when the Wenatchee doctors demanded that I needed to be monitored again for 10 minutes before we could leave. That was the most awkward 10 minutes of my life. All of the doctors and transporters standing around my gurney watching the minutes pass by until they finally got the go ahead that we could leave.
Jeff and I had never been in an ambulance before. But here we were – about to experience two ambulances and one personal airplane. I remember I felt pretty weird being wheeled everywhere. I was like a princess on my thrown and everyone had to roll me, lift me, and make sure I was safe wherever we went. The ambulance was not very sturdy. They apologized in advance, and they were right. I barely remember the ride there, but I know that I felt very nauseous and very thankful that Jeff was with me.
The employees that rode with us, and eventually got us safely there, were all so nice. I could tell that they cared about me, the baby, and also about Jeff. The plane was small. They lifted me inside, turned my bed 90 degrees, and secured me inside. The monitor was still showing my stats and the transporters were watching it carefully. I wonder what they would have done if they saw that the baby’s heart rate had dropped. Were they doctors? I have no idea, and at the time I didn’t know that I should be concerned about anything like that. After all, we were just doing this so that I could lay in another hospital bed with sensors on my stomach.
There was three seats to my right inside the plane. So two transporters, Jeff, and then behind me, I don’t know what all was behind me (at the front of the plane), but I could hear at least the pilot up there. They gave us all headphones and warned us that it was going to be really loud. They didn’t have a pair for Jeff, but he had his earbuds. However, I guess those didn’t do too much for him. The male transporter told me to raise my hand if I needed anything on the way because he wouldn’t be able to hear me. I wondered how I would be able to effectively raise my hand, on account of them being seat belted down, but I just nodded my head wanting this trip to be over with.
After about 20 minutes into the flight, I knew that I was going to barf. I tried to raise my hand, but only Jeff noticed. Later he told me that he thought that I wanted him to take a picture of me. Thanks, Jeff, lol. He was no help, so I worked to get the attention of the male transporter. Finally I did, and I motioned to him that I was going to puke. The man grabbed a puke bag, but his hands were kind of shakey and he was having trouble getting the bag open. Meanwhile I was about ready to explode. I started vomiting down my neck and on front of my gown, catching the rest of it in the hard-to-open bag. The throw up was bright red, and at first the woman transporter thought that I was puking up blood. Nope, it was just red jello.
We finally landed in Seattle, and they wheeled me out of the plane, lifting me and setting me down, and ordering each other to do different things. The pilot, I remember, had a very positive attitude. He was joking around and really lightened the mood for everyone. Maybe he was annoying for everyone else? But for me, I enjoyed the way he was so friendly and funny.
They lifted me into the second ambulance, locked me in, warned me that it was about to be super bumpy, and slammed the doors behind us. Jeff sat in front next to the driver, and I could hear him having a big conversation about past jobs, and our future plans. Listening to them talk, all I wanted to do was tell him to shut up. I felt so sick and I didn’t want to think about anything in the future at that moment. I just felt like I was going to die. WHY were we traveling all the way to Seattle? It was the middle of the night and all of this was so DRAMATIC.
Finally, the ambulance stopped, they lifted me out, and rolled me onto the sidewalk. I will say, these transporters were STRONG. I felt bad that I weighed so much for them. We waited outside the first floor of the hospital to be let inside. The air was cold, but it felt SOOOO good. They kept apologizing for the weather through this whole transportation process, but the wind and the breeze definitely helped calm my nauseousness and made me feel alive again. I could breathe!
Finally the doors of the hospital opened, and a young woman with glasses tapped me on the shoulder and said, “Hey, I’m Allison. I’m going to be your nurse while you are here.” She immediately felt like my friend. I felt comfortable there with her walking next to me, and I thought hey, maybe this all was going to be kind of fun.
We rolled in and out of the elevator, through doors, around corners, and in different hallways. Finally we got to the labor and delivery room. It was a long room, and when I asked Allison why it was so long, she replied, “Oh it is? I never noticed. I guess its because it doesn’t feel very long when all the people are in here.”
“All the people? What people?”
“Oh, this is a teaching hospital.”
“Oh, okay.” I had no idea what the heck she was talking about. Good thing I wasn’t delivering here though, because I didn’t necessarily want “all the people” watching me push out a baby.
Allison stood at her computer and asked me a bunch of regular doctor type questions about my past medical history, allergies, etc. She was nice and funny, and I felt so at ease around her. People kept coming in and out of the room. I think that they were doctors and stuff, but I wasn’t quite sure. They mentioned doing another ultrasound to look at the baby, and I felt relief flow through me. I really wanted to see how the baby was doing in there. They were freaking me out, just a little bit, of how important they were making me feel. Then again, we had traveled all the way to Seattle, we should probably at least get an ultrasound while we were here.
Plus, the ultrasound I got in Wenatchee felt like it had been an eternity ago. I really wanted to see how the baby was doing in there, especially after the journey to get to Seattle. I also just had a bad feeling about things and felt this racing feeling. It didn’t help that the monitor to my right kept beeping in a way that sounded concerning. I tried to ignore the beeping, because I knew that the monitors were always making weird noises that didn’t mean much, but did they mean anything in this case? And why exactly were all people who were coming in and out of the room looking at the monitor so much? Was anyone going to clue Jeff or I on what was going on. It was 2:00am, and I didn’t know what in the world was happening.
Jeff was on the phone with my parents. They said that they planned to book a hotel in Seattle for the night. I told Jeff, “No way. Nothing is going to happen tonight. They are just doing monitoring and I don’t want the pressure of wishing something would happen because they were making such an effort to come here.” Oh, if only I knew…
All of a sudden, things seemed to pick up.
A younger man, with longer hair, and a blue hair net on his head, sat down on the opposite side of the couch from Jeff. He had a fanny pack type purse strapped around his waist and he sat up very straight. He had a friendly, laid back face, and I immediately felt comfortable with who he was just by the way he presented himself. He introduced himself as an Anesthesiologist. He asked me if I had experience with epidurals before. I told him that I had, but that it wouldn’t be necessary for this potential delivery. My birth before was easy and quick, and the recovery was even easier. I attributed this to the fact that I didn’t use any form of pain medication, so I planned to do the same with this upcoming birth experience. He let me know that he understood, and then continued to explain the other options he could provide to help with pain, like general anesthesia, if the opportunity presented itself.
I laid there wondering why he was even telling me about all this? I mean, I just told him that I didn’t want the epidural, so why would I be interested in hearing about the other options he had available? I politely thanked him for the information, glancing at Jeff in confusion, and the Anesthesiologist left the room. This hospital was weird. Was this what people talked about when they would say that birth centers were better because pain options were not as readily available? Why were they presenting all the options to me immediately when I arrived? On top of it all, I was just there for simple monitoring for a couple days until I could return back to Wenatchee.
Right after he left, two women sat down in the same spot on the couch across from Jeff. The ladies got a run down on who I was, my medical history, and what had brought me to their hospital that night. They spoke about how the baby’s heart rate was concerning to them, but how they had hoped that I would stay pregnant long enough for the steroid shots to have their full cycle. Well duh we would be waiting until that long at least – that was only 2 days away from right now. They also explained that if the heart rate monitoring didn’t become more reassuring, that there was a possibility that they would need to deliver the baby due to fetal distress. They mentioned having to do this via cesarean delivery, and also mentioned the risk of a possible classical hysterotomy due to severe IUGR. Hysterotomy… did she mean Hysterectomy? Why would that have to happen? Oh well, I don’t think I need to worry about any of this anyway. I’m not going to ask any questions. They are just working through their required conversations with new patients… I think. The two doctors thanked us for our time, and left the room.
Next sat down another lady. What was this? A parade of some sort? Never before had I ever been made to feel so important as I did in that hospital bed. She introduced herself as someone from the Neonatology Department. What in the world was that department? I listened as she spoke to me about what she had to offer us, in the case that we would need her services. Eventually I connected the dots and realized that she was talking about the possibility of my baby being admitted to the NICU. She reminded us that there was a high possibility that this would happen due to prematurity and intrauterine growth restriction.
She continued to explain what the NICU services would provide during the time of delivery, such as who all would be present there inside the delivery room, and also inside a nearby room called the ISR room. She also explained the different supports that our baby might need, such as positive pressure ventilation and intubation. Then she talked about all of these different things that our baby would experience in the NICU, such as the possibility of a ventilator, nasal CPAP, nasal cannula. She explained the benefits of breastmilk for premature babies, and the importance of kangaroo care. Both of these things sent some relief through me, because while this hospital was strange, at least they promoted good things like breastfeeding and skin-to-skin. After, she asked if we had any further questions or concerns for her, and then she exited the room. While the lady seemed nice, I was left still feeling just so confused.
All of a sudden, the two ladies from before sat down again, but this time they kept glancing up towards the monitor sitting behind me while they spoke. They started talking a lot about Cesarean deliveries, and eventually made it clear that was what they were recommending for our current situation. They explained how they felt that the risk of a stillborn birth for us was high, and that they were certain that we would need to take this route in order to avoid that happening. Hearing the words “stillborn birth” come out of the doctor’s mouth sent chills down my spine. They continued to explain the different risks that a cesarean delivery would bring such as bleeding, possible blood transfusion, infection, damage to nearby organs, blood clots, and the potential of a classical hysterotomy.
Okay, okay, yes, we will do that. We will sign the papers, and we agree to do whatever is necessary to have this baby arrive here safely. “So is a vaginal delivery not possible?” I asked. They explained that due to the baby’s size, that it wasn’t safe to try to put the baby through the stress of contractions and everything else that a vaginal birth would require. “Oh, okay, yeah. That makes sense,” I replied, “And what about the ultrasound we were going to have to check on the baby?”
“We don’t have time to do that anymore.”
All of a sudden, Jeff spoke up, “Okay, wait, so when are you guys saying that this would happen?”
The doctor turned to him and replied, “Within the hour.”
Wow.
Okay.
Fear set in, even though I didn’t show it outwardly. I just laid there, and signed the paper to agree that I was okay with this happening. I mean, what option did I really have? So I guess my parents should be made aware that all of this was happening after all. And my sister! Oh, my sister! “Jeff, call Quincy.”
“But it’s super late. I don’t want to wake her up.”
“Call her Jeff, and if she doesn’t answer, then call Danny and tell him to wake her up. She will want to know!”
A few minutes later, they handed Jeff an outfit to put over his clothes. After a quick goodbye, I was rolled out of the room and into a real, legit, operation room, complete with super big bright lights, and filled with so much white objects that it was almost blinding. Thankfully, my nurse, Allison, was still with me. The familiarity of her face was reassuring for me.
She had me sit on the edge of my bed with my back exposed and in the “cat” position. Right as I sat up though, I began to throw up. I couldn’t stop convulsing as they attempted to get the epidural into my back. I could hear them talking behind me purposefully. “Why haven’t you done it yet?”
“I can’t put it in when she’s throwing up.”
“Oh, she’s throwing up?”
Allison just stood in front of me with her gloved hands on the back of my neck in an attempt to keep me steady as I threw up into a bag between us. The steadiness of her hands made me feel comforted as I continued to feel so sick. I just wanted all of this to be over with. Finally they completed the epidural successfully, and I was laid down onto the operating table.
It felt like a million people were running around me all completing separate tasks. A blue piece of fabric was hung between my head and my stomach, and that was how I knew that this was really happening. OMG, OMG, OMG, get this over with, “Where’s Jeff??”
“Oh, we are getting him now,” someone replied.
Meanwhile, another person, I think the Anesthesiologist, kept asking me, “Does this feel different than this? Does this feel different than this? I’ll do it again. Does this feel different than this?” as he touched me on the shoulder, on my upper belly, and on my lower belly, over and over, with what felt like a cold alcohol wipe. His questions kept coming, and he asked them quick. The stress was building up as I got the impression that the answers I was giving were very important leading up to when they would begin the procedure. Also known as, when they would cut into my body.
There were people on both sides of me getting things ready quickly. They kept reminding me that there were arm boards on both sides of me. I kept wanting to scream, “Why are we concerned about my arms getting to rest at a time like this?!”
I kept my hands folded up near my chin, not feeling well, and wishing that this would be over quickly. “Is there a bag somewhere?” I asked as I turned my head to the right and barfed again, not feeling any better. Finally, Jeff arrived and sat down, beside where my head lay, and I was so glad to see him.
The alcohol swab test continued, as I tried my best to answer accurately. All of a sudden something sharp poked me on my lower abdomen, and they asked, “Do you feel this? What does it feel like? Does it hurt?”
“Ummm… no, it doesn’t hurt. It feels like… pressure???”
“ALRIGHT, WE ARE READY!”
Jeff looked at my face, with concern in his eyes, and asked, “How are you?”
“I keep barfing.”
He glanced up beyond the blue sheet briefly, looked back at my face, and asked, “Do you feel that?”
“No, all I feel is pressure.”
All of a sudden, I heard the most beautiful and surprising sound I had ever heard. I heard a baby cry. Our baby was delivered within 3 minutes from the start of the procedure to her letting out that glorious cry. It was quick, it was scary, but that cry made it all worth it. “It’s a girl!” someone said, and I looked at Jeff for his reaction to that news, however I knew that we both could care less about the sex of the baby in that moment.
I lifted my head as high as I could (which wasn’t very high) to try to see the baby, but after only a quick glance, she was taken away and out of the room. “Go with her!” I told Jeff, as he hesitated, looking down at me. He then continued out of the room following behind the baby and nurses that went along with her.
I laid back in relief. She was here. She was alive. She was actually alive.
I hadn’t planned for this. I thought this day would have went much differently. I had thought that this summer was about to be filled with trips to the cemetery to visit the baby, not trips to the park with our baby in the carrier. I was relaxed through the doctors stitching me back up and putting me back together. I didn’t have a care in the world in that moment.
Jeff was with our baby, our alive baby, and all was okay in the world once more.
I found out a few more things about Bowie’s delivery later on… I found out that if we had waited just five more minutes to get her out, she would have not survived. I found out that if I had eaten that day, that they wouldn’t have been able to perform the surgery. I found out that they skipped the ultrasound that night, and that was a very good decision on their part. I found out that the reason everything felt so confusing was because the hospital staff wanted to keep both of us calm, and what a good job they did at that.
There were so many miracles that happened that night.
This was the closest I’ve been to a “near death experience.” I know that I wasn’t the one that almost died, but I feel like the effect of this occurrence changed me in the same way that it would have if it was me.
Jeff’s Side of the Story:
On Friday morning, after Karli had left for her checkup and ultrasound, I received a phone call from Karli. “Can you send me the insurance for the truck?” Karli asked, hesitantly.
“Did you get pulled over?” I responded.
“Yes, I did,” she said.
Karli ended up getting a ticket for using her phone while driving. I knew there was no benefit of getting upset, because Karli knew she was in the wrong. As a husband of Karli, I have to assume something like this will happen every so often, and that’s fine with me. After this happened, I had a feeling that this wouldn’t be a normal day.
Later in the day, I got another phone call from Karli stating that they were concerned with the baby because of the stress test. The baby’s heartbeat was also not doing great. Karli reassured me that they would be monitoring her and that she was doing well. She also mentioned there was a chance she would need to fly to Spokane or Seattle to deliver the baby. The hospital in Wenatchee didn’t deliver babies premature of 34 weeks. The baby turned 34 weeks on Monday. I still had the responsibility of the kids, so I arranged for my parents to come over later at night. Karli kept reassuring me throughout the day that she thought she would just be on bedrest until she gave birth. There was no rush for me to get there.
Thankfully, a family friend, Mary Anne, went and visited Karli. At night, I got a call from Mary Anne urging me to come to the hospital. It looked like they would be flying Karli out of Wenatchee soon. The hospital was trying to find another hospital to send Karli. I contacted our neighbors, the Slushers, to see if the could come sit in our house while the kids slept. They were able to come over, and Kyle was going to come over at 8, which was perfect. The kids go to sleep at 7, but don’t really go to sleep until 8. I fed the kids, gave them a bath, and put them to sleep by 7. Right when they got in bed, Bonnie exclaimed her infamous phrase, “My body is not tired.”
“Well then just lay there and close your eyes”, I responded. Brody went to sleep, but the girls weren’t so easy.
As I sat in their room, I could hear them flopping around their beds saying things like, “I don’t want to go to sleep,” and, “This is so boring.” Eventually I got a text from Mary Anne saying, “They are scheduling her flight. You need to leave.”
At that point, I became worried, and I told the girls, “I will give you a dollar in the morning if you guys go to sleep.”
Blaire looked at me, held up both of her three year old hands, and said, “I want a lot of dollars.”
I said, “Okay, a lot of dollars”.
After that, they went to sleep fairly easily. I rushed out of the room, threw some of my clothes in the bag that I had previously packed for Karli. Shorty after, I heard a knock on the door. Of course Bailey had to jump on Kyle when he walked it. She loves seeing new people. After Kyle got to our house, I jumped in my car and screeched down the road. That drive was probably the most stressful of my life (excluding the time when Blaire was almost born in the car). The hospital is probably 45 minutes from our house. The whole time I felt like Dr. Strange, playing out every possible outcome that lie ahead of us.
When I got to the hospital Mary Anne and her son were there. Thankfully the plane wasn’t going to be there for about an hour. I ended up being almost 2 more hours. During that time, the nurses let us know that we would be flying to Seattle for further evaluation. During the 2 hours me and Karli talked a lot about what was happening. Mary Anne’s son and I were able to give Karli a blessing. There was a lot of silence while me and Karli watched the baby’s heartbeat on the monitor.
When the flight crew and the ambulance crew arrived, they got Karli wrapped up in a gerny like a burrito. There was a wait while the flight crew received confirmation from the plane and also the nurses had to check the baby’s heartbeat to make sure she was good. It was an extremely long wait, but it probably was only like 30 minutes.
As soon as the pilot sent confirmation, and the nurses were happy with the baby’s heartbeat, we were on our way to the airport in the ambulance. “The ambulance can get kind of bumpy back there,” the driver warned me. “Kind of bumpy” was definitely an understatement. It felt like we were on Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride. Unfortunately, both me and Karli get car sick very easily. So by the time, we made it to the airport, we both weren’t feeling well.
When we got to the airport, I was expecting a fairly big sized plane. It was the complete opposite. The plane fit Karli, the two airplane crew, the pilot and me. There was nothing else they could have fit on that plane. Before we took off, the Pilot asked, “Everyone have their headsets?” For some reason, my headset was missing. I had flown on planes before, so I didn’t think the plane would be that loud. I also had my iPod headphones, so I thought I would be fine.
Once the plane started, I knew I had made a mistake. I turned my iPhone all the way up, but could still only hear the noise of the plane. At the time I didn’t care because I was worried about Karli and the baby. The flight was only about 30 minutes long, but near the end I saw Karli raise her hand. I should mention that before this, Karli kept asking me to take pictures of her, to document the experience. So I thought she was just asking me to take another picture. But she was actually signaling that she had to throw up. The guy sitting next to her started scrambling around his seat trying to find anything to catch the puked it. Thankfully he got a bag in time and there was minimal spillage. Once we landed, we had another ambulance to ride on. Thankfully the driver was nice and let me sit up front. All the crew for the ambulances and the plane were extremely nice and personable.
When we got to the hospital, it was early in the morning on Saturday. The lights of the hospital were dim and it looked like they had closed. The ambulance team called up to have someone come let us in because the doors were closed. The security team probably took about 15 minutes. The driver said, “Good thing this isn’t a emergency,” because of how long we had to wait. Once we finally made it into the room, the nurses got Karli hooked up to the machine. Shortly after, we had meetings with nurses, doctors, and the anesthesiologist. We were very impressed by the staff at UW Medical center. Eventually the doctor came in and stated, “The baby’s heart rate isn’t good and we feel like we need to do a C-Section”. I asked, “When will that take place?” thinking maybe within the next few days. But she replied, “Within the hour.” At that point I felt very nervous, but confident, in the staff’s opinion. In the next 20 minutes, the nurses were prepping Karli and I was getting the scrubs on to go into the Operating Room. They took Karli away, and told me to wait in the original delivery room and that they would come get me after Karli had gotten her epidural.
I felt like I waited in the room for a lifetime. Finally, someone came in and got me. When I got into the operating room, what I witnessed was chaos. People were running around, grabbing tools, and checking monitors. I felt like I was late to the party. I remember specifically seeing Karli and feeling so sad and feeling like there was absolutely nothing I could do to help the situation. There was a sheet covering her stomach so we both couldn’t see what was going on. As I sat down next to her, she told me, “I threw up” with the saddest look on her face. At this point I could feel tears running down my face. I didn’t want anything bad to happen to the person I cared about the most. She reached her hand out, and I grabbed it. I remember everyone in that operating room running around like crazy people. I even remember people on top of Karli. I could feel them pulling on Karli and the bed she was on kept shaking. Eventually one of the doctor exclaimed, “It’s a girl.” But oddly I didn’t hear any crying. As soon as they took the baby away, I told Karli, “I’m going to see if she is okay.” Our plan the whole time was for me to follow the baby. Even though I hated leaving Karli. I walked around the table, avoiding eye contact with Karli exposed guts.
I went into the room next to the OR, and 4 or 5 nurses were working on my girl. She had a heartbeat, but didn’t look like she was breathing. The nurses kept saying things like, “Her color is bad,” and “Her lungs aren’t moving.” They were manually trying to get her to breath. During this time, I was even more emotional. I was trying my best not to completely lose it.
All of a sudden, one of the nurses said, “I hear her breathing,” and another said, “Her color is looking better.” Soon I could hear a little whimper coming from my tiny 3 pound girl. One of the nurses asked, “Do you want to touch her?” Of course I did! I quickly moved forward to her, and grabbed her hand. I was so emotionally and physically drained at this point. It was 5AM. I had been up all night and been through about as much as I could handle. Soon after, they got her prepped to go to the NICU. I continued to follow our girl around. Soon I went back up to the original room where I had waited to get my stuff. Russ, Brenda and Quincy were waiting in there. I don’t remember anything from the interaction or from most of the interactions after that. I think I was just Zombie Man.
After that, I went down to the NICU where they took our girl and saw the nurses setting her up in her room. Shortly after, I told one of the nurses, “I need to see my wife.” One of the nurses took me to her. I remember the calm feeling that I got knowing everything was alright, and knowing without a doubt that that our Heavenly Father had a hand in each and every step in our journey that night. Even though we had been through so much in 12 hours, everything ended up working out.
We are so grateful for our little miracle, Bowie Lee.
Liz’s (the IRS Nurse) Side of the Story:
I was the “resource” nurse the night of Bowie’s birth… that means I get to welcome all the babies into the world at all the complex deliveries, my very favorite job! Looking back on my Fitbit from the night Bowie was born I walked/ran 7 miles and 18 flights of stairs. It rained babies! One surprise delivery stuck out in my mind: a mother being flown in at 33 and 4/7 with SLE, IUGR and elevated cord dopplers… that sounds familiar! That very day my own baby, Vivian, turned a year and a half, the little girl that only made it because of a crash c-section at the very hospital I work at. Our specialty is delivering babies very quickly when they are in severe distress, performing a good resuscitation and growing them into big beautiful term-size babies in our NICU. I had an identical delivery to little Bowie’s with my daughter Vivian, but this time I got to be the nurse instead of the patient.
Labor and delivery called and said they were heading back for c-section and would be paging NICU soon, baby was having lots of decelerations so they were moving quickly. I went up to make sure the ISR was ready and found the hospitalist (doctor) had already checked the room. We waited and waited in the hallway for the page and finally went in to the worlds warmest room and peeked through the little window to see what was taking so long: it was the epidural. As soon as they finished and laid Karli down I could tell the baby was going to be tiny… her belly was so small. The page went out and the resident doctor came in. She asked why we got called up so early… they hadn’t even made the incision yet, this was going to take forever… but what she didn’t know was that the baby was in distress and the OR team can move fast! Within 3 minutes we met little Bowie, pale with eyes wide open. With a little oxygen and pressure to her lungs, she pinked up and was able to go down to NICU on CPAP, just like my Vivian had a year and a half before. We wheeled her isolette into the OR to meet her mom, showed Karli how small and beautiful she was, and I asked if we could take her husband to the NICU with us. Bowie was a champ. It’s not often that I get to hand a baby off to my NICU nurse husband, but I did that night; I knew she was in good hands. I went into the hallway to reassure daddy Jeff that his little girl was going to do well: as strange as it sounds I had been in the same situation just a year and a half earlier and everything had worked out.
Lupus is known to cause placental insufficiency. Both Vivian and Bowie went from being seemingly ok to being in severe distress in a matter of days… it’s amazing to think these little miracles came so close to not making it. I thank God every day for my Lupus diagnosis, for the obstetric care I received and for being in the right place at the right time… Karli and I both felt something was wrong, a mother’s intuition, but when you’re pregnant you’re relying on so many other people to validate what you know is true. Vivian and Bowie truly are miracles!
life with little bees 