Penny: The doctor said at 23 weeks of pregnancy, “You are not going to leave the hospital pregnant anymore”
After a years-long journey filled with hope, disappointment, joy, and sorrow, a biochemical pregnancy, dozens of ultrasounds, two egg retrievals, about 100 injections, overstimulation, and a TESE surgery for my partner, the moment had finally arrived: 2 lines on the test. Pregnant!
A small thundercloud hung over our happiness
Having a carefree pregnancy after a fertility journey seemed almost too good to be true. Throughout the entire pregnancy, I've felt a sort of dark cloud looming over us. The fear that something very bad is going to happen. I blame it on the journey, on the miscarriages my mother and grandmother had, and on the biochemical pregnancy. Everyone says I should enjoy it and I'm trying my best, but the ominous feeling won't go away.
Everything looks good, time to relax
Yet every step goes well. A good NIPT, a reassuring 13-week ultrasound, everything looks good. We also hear that we are having a son. After the positive 20-week ultrasound, I try to relax more. Everything is complete and in place. Frum is a perfect child. A bit on the small side, but still on the curve. He just needs to grow now.
A happy little bubble full of anticipation
A few days after the 20-week ultrasound, we're going on vacation. I'm finally able to set aside my fear and dream of a future with Frum. The maternity care is arranged, as is the childcare, and my partner and I have decided to get married so that Frum is automatically both of ours. I feel the familiar flutters in my stomach and it makes me so happy. My partner can't wait to feel Frum too, and together we're a happy little bubble full of anticipation.
It must be because of the heat, right?
On the first day of vacation, my ankles suddenly swelled up enormously. Oh well, I'm pregnant and it's 30 degrees Celsius. Moving around seems to help, so we take as many steps as possible every day. Meanwhile, we buy onesies and cuddly toys to remember our vacation with Frum in the womb. I get a headache every day, but then again, the hotel bed is also very hard. We happily go out and about, and every night I tell Frum all about what he has experienced that day in my belly.
After some googling, I come across pregnancy poisoning, but it's too early for that, isn't it?
I increasingly have a feeling of being rushed and hurried that I can't place. “I just hope everything is okay with my blood pressure,” I say to my friend. I don't know why, but I feel like something is wrong there. After some googling, I come across preeclampsia. “But that's rare and usually occurs much later in pregnancy,” my friend and I conclude. We decide not to worry about it.
“Have you been stressed?”, the assistant asks after measuring my blood pressure
Back from vacation, a check-up at the Rijnstate in Arnhem is scheduled. We have been coming here every other week since week 15 for a check of my cervix. Fortunately, everything is going well with that, and I am now looking forward to those ultrasounds, because we get to peek at Frum quite often. Before the appointment, my blood pressure is measured. "Have you been stressed?", the assistant asks. "No, but I do feel a bit rushed", I say. She passes it on to the obstetrician. After the ultrasound, the doctor decides to measure again, expecting that I will be less tense and therefore it will be better. But no, the blood pressure remains above 150.
A mild case of pregnancy poisoning, nothing to immediately worry about
A bit later, I'm hooked up to a monitor to measure my blood pressure for half an hour. It shoots up further. Proteins are found in my urine. A single measurement indicating 0.5 grams of protein suggests pregnancy poisoning; I score 0.49. The word 'admission' is mentioned, but we are allowed to go home. I have to collect urine for 24 hours and start taking blood pressure-lowering medication. The next day, it turns out there is indeed mild pregnancy poisoning. But hey, mild is manageable and the doctors somewhat hope that I was already leaking proteins before my pregnancy and that it's just part of who I am.
“I'll call Radboud right away to see if they want to see you”
A week later we have to come back for the final check. My blood pressure is fine, but during the ultrasound, the doctor becomes quiet. She keeps zooming in on blood vessels in Frum's head and on the umbilical cord. “The pressure between your baby and the placenta is too high,” she says. “The placenta isn't functioning properly and the baby is compensating for that. You're still so early in the pregnancy, only 23 weeks. I'll call Radboud to see if they want to see you.”
“Pack your bag and go to the hospital immediately”
We are allowed to go home, confused and scared. Half an hour later, the phone rings. It's already 7 o'clock in the evening. “The hospital wants to see you right now. Pack a bag with some things for admission and head there immediately.” In a sort of daze, my partner and I pack some things. We drive the familiar route to Nijmegen. “Just when we thought we were done here,” my partner sighs. “It feels like a step backward.” I keep repeating that maybe we can just go home tonight.
“You will not leave this hospital pregnant anymore”
We are not allowed to go home. Once at the Hospital, blood is drawn, the flow through the placenta is measured again, blood pressure checked, an IV is started, and I am assigned a bed. Trembling with fear, I let it all happen. I have never been admitted to a hospital before and have no idea what to expect. “One thing I can be clear about right away,” says the gynecologist. “The only remedy for pregnancy poisoning is to give birth. So you will not leave this hospital still pregnant.”
On a stretcher in a storage room
They let me sleep, at 3 a.m. my blood pressure is measured again and at 7 a.m. they take blood samples again. Fortunately, my boyfriend doesn't have to go home, but he can't stay in my room either because someone else is there. Therefore, he sadly sleeps on a stretcher in a storage room, but we are both overjoyed that he is not at home – 45 minutes away.
“There is a high probability that he will come in the next two weeks”
In the morning I feel miserable. I can only vomit. The gynecologist and obstetrician come by for a talk and I catch in between bouts of vomiting that we need to talk later with the pediatrician. Because Frum is still much too young to be born, at that moment 23 weeks and 4 days. We need to discuss what it could mean for him if he is born at 24 or 25 weeks. “We hope to be able to delay it for a long time, maybe until 28 weeks, but there is a high chance that he will come in the next two weeks,” the doctor explains.
Frum's quality of life versus our desire for children
With all possible consequences: death, strokes, behavioral disorders, disabilities, and a combination of all of these. We have to weigh Frum's quality of life against our desire for children. And then also ensure that I get through it as unscathed as possible. “We will let you get progressively sicker in a controlled way, until the point where you are no longer the best place for your baby. But pre-eclampsia is extremely unpredictable and capricious, so we can't say when that point will come. We have to take it day by day and you must celebrate every day that you remain stable.”
To be continued..
PENNY
