The next hospital

"A baby can't survive."

It's hard to write that even now, after my baby proved everyone and every statistic wrong. It still hurts to remember the terror and doubt and desperation.

And I AM trying to remember everything that happened, because I worry if I forget a piece it will fester. It's surprising, the stupid things I remember in the middle of the bigger things. So I suppose I'll come back to these entries as new details emerge, or as I notice errors and inconsistencies.

But it's so difficult to recall the banalities, not only emotionally, but physically as well. It's soon in this that I'll tell you that the drugs dripped into my veins started, drugs that ripped away any belief I had I could retain some control and made me more woozy and fuzzy-headed than I understood possible. Drugs that led to hallucinations and a scrawl in my bedside notebook to "get off ALL drugs" as a goal for reclaiming my sense of sanity.

But I'm getting ahead of myself.

After they told me I'd be moving to the Level 3 hospital, my dad and sister waited until the ambulance showed up. I don't remember the conversation, other than my sister's constant reassurances. I told them they didn't need to go to the hospital with me; it was late, both were tired.

And I already felt terribly alone.

The EMTs came, eventually, with a stretcher, and I was moved onto it and out the door. It was my first ride in an ambulance. They wouldn't turn on the lights, though:)

I don't understand my humor sometimes. In the ambulance I bantered with the EMT in the back, who peppered my witty comments with serious questions. I just kept thinking I wanted to make SOMEone laugh. And he was a good audience. Not to mention -- who doesn't love to talk about herself?

Arrival at the next hospital was to the emergency entrance, where I was pushed past the admittance desk, into an elevator and up to the room. They transferred me over to the bed, which supposedly was much more comfortable than standard fare.

More questions about myself. A nice nurse. A phlebotomist using my arms for what felt like practice as in her search to find an unholed spot she was forced to dig into the backs of my hands ... and the sight of the incredibly beautiful, vibrant, alive circle of my blood as it ran out and spread onto the white, white sheet when she couldn't establish proper insertion in the back of my left hand. And then moved onto the right. And then into my right inner wrist, halfway between hand and inner elbow, where she finally found success.

Another hour or two of tests and questions. About what? I wish I remember, other than general repetitions of the story-thus-far and biographical information. Some explanation of what was going to happen. And the beginning of the IV drips.

I was given magnesium sulfate to prevent the pre-ecclampsia from developing into ecclampsia, which would mean convulsionsstrokebraindeathdeath. And potassium to counteract the magnesium sulfate and hydrate me. Blood pressure medications came and went in various doses.

The oxygen started, too. Tubing with little prongs that shoved into my nostrils. Because I still couldn't take a deep breath and that was terrifying me. Was it this night I opted for the sleeping pill, Ambien? I can't remember if I was beyond exhausted yet and gave in. Whenever night it was, it didn't help anyway.

And I was given the first Butt Shot.

Two shots administered 24 equal hours apart. Into my ass. Left cheek the first night, right the next, if you're really into the details of this story. It was a steroid that promoted development of the baby's lungs, lungs that weren't meant to breathe outside air until the very end of full-term pregnancy.

I do have to say I'm proud to brag that I resisted the catheter for a long time. I don't remember when I gave in, but I did. I peed automatically, into that tiny tube without feeling it, until after delivery.

I think sometimes that I will request my medical records so I can fill in the gaps. But I'm not sure I'm ready for that yet. And when I read about medications I had, or procedures, all of the "possibles" fold into my understanding and overwhelm me anew.

I could have I could have It could have It could have. These possible side effects of magnesium sulfate:

Cardiac arrest
I was already having trouble with my pre-ecclampsia-induced irregular heartbeat.
Pulmonary edema (lungs fill with fluid; can be fatal)
Check, had that too.
Chest pain
Cardiac conduction defects
Low blood pressure
I WISH!
Low calcium
Increased urinary calcium
Visual disturbances
Oh yeah. We'll learn their names later.
Decreased bone density
Respiratory depression (difficulty breathing)
Had that already.
Muscular hyperexcitability

I was on the magnesium sulfate until just before I was discharged.

I learned how the bed went up and down. I learned where the call button and the light switch were. I asked for the blinds to be open even though it was night because I was so terrified of confinement in that little room.

This was Monday night.

It was only later that I noticed the incubator tucked into a corner, and realized this was a room meant for giving birth.