Brothers

By Jennifer

This is a story about brothers.   This is a story about my sons.  This is a story about the most important, life changing experiences in my life:  my pregnancies.  Shortly after my husband and I got married in August 1996, we discovered that we were pregnant.  At that stage in my life, it was just one of those things that you did after you got married, and I wasn't really certain how thrilled I was.  In fact, I was a lot more concerned and worried about how my life would change once I had a baby to look after.  Was I ready for this?  Would I be a good mother?  Would I have any fun?  This whole thing was new to me, and not one of my friends had gone through this yet, so I really had no one to talk to, as I blindly trusted my doctors would 'take care of me.'

At about 13 weeks into the pregnancy, I woke up one morning and felt a gush of fluid in my panties.  It was a small amount, and I didn't feel it again that day, but just to be sure, I called the OB's office.  They suggested that I come in to have it checked out.  The doctor did a quick exam and said, "well everything looks good, you must have peed in your pants."  That's just lovely, I thought to myself, how embarrassing!

Two days later, I started to spot brown and by the end of the day it was bright red.  I called the doctor's office, and they said that there was nothing I could do if it was a miscarriage.  So I was to just wait.  This was Thursday.  On Friday, I continued to bleed, although I had no cramping, but I did want some sort of answers.  I decided to stop by the doctor's office and hopefully they would just see me.  The dumb doctors had left early, the office was locked!  I was so angry and frustrated!  I waited all weekend, still bleeding, still no cramping, but getting more concerned and frustrated. 

Monday morning I called the OB's office and told them that I was still bleeding and I wanted to know what the heck was going on.  My husband came with me this time, and upon examination, it was determined that all the bleeding was coming from my cervix, on a spot where I had a previous LEEP operation a few years back.  The prognosis, according to the doctors, was that I might bleed the entire pregnancy because the spot was raw and aggravated.  Beyond that inconvenience of bleeding, I was not to worry, everything would be fine.

On the way home from the doctor's office, I cried with relief.  My baby was fine!  Up to that point, I had not realized just how attached I was growing to this little life inside of me.

Shortly after that exam, I started having these awful rounds of gas.  I would feel all bloated and tender to the touch.  On occasion, I would be so uncomfortable that I could not sleep.  I called the OB's office, and the nurse suggested I try an over-the-counter gas relief medication like gas-ex.

At my 18 week appointment we listened to the heartbeat and measured my belly, weight, and blood pressure.  As the doctor was walking out the door, I mentioned that I had been experiencing some really uncomfortable gas.  He said that it was common for pregnant women, and continued to waltz out the door.

On the day of my 22 week doctor's appointment, I was VERY uncomfortable.  I was having one of those bad rounds of gas, and nothing seemed to be helping.  I kept thinking how glad I was that I had a doctor's appointment later on that day.  Who knew why I was in so much pain, but surely something beyond the normal was wrong, and they would be able to tell me.  In fact, I had a few hours before the appointment, and I got in a nice warm tub of water to relieve the pain. 

My husband accompanied me to the doctor's office.  In the waiting area, as I was signing in, the receptionist asked me if everything was OK, and I told her I was fine, but just had some really bad gas pains.  I remember thinking that I must look like I feel, pretty darned uncomfortable.   In fact, I was having a hard time dealing with the pain, and gave into the urge to move around and try some odd positions in an attempt to relieve the gas pain.

In the examination room, the doctor did the usual measuring of the belly and listening to the heart beat.  I told him about my really painful gas, and he asked me to point to the spot where it hurt.  I pointed to my lower abdomen, to the sides and middle.  He told us that it couldn't be gas, because by this stage in the pregnancy the intestines were pushed way up high towards the ribs.  He said instead that this pain was ligament stretching and for some women it was more painful then others.  He then laid a reassuring hand on my shoulder and told me to smile and go home and take Tylenol for the ligament pain.   I'll never, ever forget that.  Looking back, I realize that these doctors were terrible.  Here I was bleeding during most of my pregnancy, and they never once did a follow-up internal exam.  They never once even asked me about continued bleeding.  They never once listened to me when I tried to tell them something wasn't right. 

Well, my husband and I went home relieved to finally know that there was a name for all this pain.  I took a Tylenol and proceeded to try and watch my favorite shows for that evening.  Funny, but the Tylenol didn't seem to be helping much.  In fact, I was so distracted by the pain, that I had a really hard time paying attention to my show.  By the end of the show I was miserable, so my husband suggested I go upstairs and take a warm bath.  Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh, yes, that would help.  While I was running the bath water, I decided to sit on the toilet, maybe a bowel movement would bring relief. 

All of a sudden I realized that I was feeling pressure in the wrong spot.  Oh No!  I jumped off the toilet and laid down on the cool floor next to the tub.  A 'ligament' pain went through me and all of a sudden with shocking clarity I realized I was in labor.  This whole time I had been having contractions!  No, no, no.....I'm wrong.  I turned off the bath water and walked over to our bed.  Once in bed I had another pain and I screamed in fright.  No, no no.....I yelled for my husband but he didn't hear me.  So I got out of bed and went downstairs to find him and explain.  "James, I think I'm in labor."  My husband yelled at me!  He told me I was such a wimp and I was panicking and over reacting to the pain.  He told me to go upstairs and finish my bath and to calm down.

I really wanted to believe him.  With every fiber of my being, I wanted him to be right, but then I broke out in an all over body sweat and I knew something really was terribly wrong.  He paged the doctor, who called back almost immediately.  I had paused on the stairs on my way up to finish my bath, and was trying to explain to the doctor what was going on.  He was asking me these questions about insurance and hospitals, and I interrupted him. "Oh, I feel like I need to push."  So I pushed, and out came my baby.  "Oh, the baby came out......" I said into the phone.  The doctor told me to come straight to the hospital where he was already attending patients.

My husband, who had been standing behind me listening to the conversation, was in complete shock.  I tried to look back and see our baby, but he wouldn't let me.  I feel that he was trying to protect me.  He told me to go upstairs and put some clothes on, and I agreed saying "get the baby, I'm not going anywhere without the baby."  Once upstairs I just stood around in the bathroom.  I was bleeding and uncertain about what clothes to put on.  I don't know how much time had passed, but my husband came upstairs and saw me standing there.  His eyes were red and sort of wild and seeing that pushed me into motion.  I threw on some clothes and we hurried off towards the hospital with our baby in a bag.

I just want to say that it never crossed our minds that at 22 weeks into the pregnancy our baby could be anything but dead already.  Later on I learned that he might have lived 20 minutes at the most, and in my darkest hours, when I allow myself to consider it, I am torn up with guilt and grief that I wasn't spending those moments cuddling him close to my heart.  Instead he was in a bag, wrapped in an old shirt.  But we didn't know, we were in shock, just four hours earlier the doctor had seen us and everything had been 'fine.'

Once at the hospital the doctor examined me and diagnosed me with Incompetent Cervix.  Our son was cleaned and dressed and brought to us.  The moment I saw him, with silent tears running down my face, I knew...I knew I loved him with all my heart.  I knew that I would be a great mother.  I knew that I would enjoy motherhood, I knew that my heart was shattered and broken seeing my dead son.   All my doubts about motherhood vanished in that moment as I was gripped with that fierce, overwhelming maternal instinct that hits women when they see their baby for the first time. 

We named our son Dustin, and planted a flowering cherry tree in the front yard to honor his memory.

The grief and healing was something that I tackled with determination.  I read books and researched on the Internet.  It was at this point that I found parentsplace.com.  I found other women who had incompetent cervix and who had lost babies.  I interviewed several doctors, each time asking, asking, and asking.

WHY?  Why had this happened to me, to us?  Why did it happen?  What could I do next time?

Slowly, over the course of several months, I found the answers to most of my questions.  I also felt re-connected to God, and found a strength and determination inside of me.  All I could think about was trying again. 

We had lost Dustin in March, and we were ready to try again in August that same year.  We also moved to a new city, and I started the interviewing of doctors once again.   In December, about the time that I realized I was pregnant, I was winding down the search for a doctor.  I went to the fifth interview already knowing I was pregnant.  He treated me like it was my first doctor appointment as well as interview, and things clicked.  We weren't really certain if I had indeed had an Incompetent Cervix, but we were going to approach this pregnancy like that was the case.

I had my cerclage placed one day shy of 13 weeks.  Five days earlier at my second ultrasound, they detected nothing wrong.  The baby looked really healthy and it was attached up high, far from the cervix.  My cervix was long and closed.  At the cerclage procedure, I was a nervous wreck, and the doctor gave me a good dose of sedative to help calm me.  I was so calm that I don't remember ANYTHING about the actual procedure.  I just woke up in recovery hearing that all went well, and I now had my preventative McDonald cerclage in place.  Oh yes, and it was a good thing that we chose 13 weeks instead of 14 weeks to place the stitches, since my cervix was 50% shorter then it had been five days ago.

WHAT?  I was only 13 weeks and already my cervix was effacing?  Did this mean I was going to be facing bed-rest the entire pregnancy?  My follow-up appointment was two weeks afterwards, and during those two weeks I placed myself on bed-rest.  I was so terrified by the news of my cervix's effacement that I was almost afraid to breathe.

At the follow-up, everything looked good.  The cervix maintained it's length and the stitches looked good and closed.  Baby was healthy and so was I.  At the next two week appointment my cervix had actually gained some length, and it was back up to 75% of it's original length.  At this point I relaxed a little and actually started to do a few things.  I would do an occasional load of laundry, walk the dog to the mailbox, go out to eat, and even go to the grocery store.  I just followed my doctor's orders to think and act like a couch potato.  I was not on bed-rest, but with those instructions, the most I allowed myself to be up and about was one hour at a time once a day maximum.

Fortunately, we sailed through the pregnancy just this way.  I had an internal exam every two weeks, and each time, things stayed the same.  Cervix was 75%, closed and the stitches looked good.  My blood pressure was fine, my weight gain was within limits (I was pigging out) and our little baby was as healthy as an ox.

The day after I turned 22 weeks, was a day of joy and anticipation.  I was now in uncharted territory.  All my experiences from here on out would be NEW.  At 27 weeks we had our third ultrasound to check why I was measuring big for my due-date.  The answer was that our baby BOY was big.  All that protein and bed-rest was resulting in a big baby.  My husband and I were please with that knowledge, just incase I went early, a bigger baby had a better chance at survival.  We were also thrilled to be having another boy.  My instincts were 100% on target both pregnancies.  I knew I was having a boy each time.

The pregnancy continued to go smoothly and uneventfully.  We had another ultrasound at 35 weeks, the stitches removed at 37.5 weeks.  We held our breath in anticipation....and waited another 23 days before going into labor after 41 weeks of pregnancy.

I had hoped for a labor and delivery with no pain medication.  I wanted as natural an experience as possible.  However, what I wanted was not what I got.  I developed high blood pressure shortly after arriving in the hospital.  To insure that I did not have seizures as a result of the high blood pressure, they administered Magnesium Sulfate which also slowed contractions.  To speed up the contractions they gave me Pitocin, and to monitor all the intervention they had me plugged up and plugged into all sorts of baby and contraction monitors. 

Craziest of all, I never dilated fully!  I only reached 8cm.  Incompetent Cervix is not the right name for this!  It should be called Uncooperative Cervix.  After all those weeks of keeping the cervix closed, now it wouldn't open.  Of course, I also couldn't aid dilation by changing position or walking around.  Therefore, I ended up with a c-section, being knocked out fully because the epidural quit working.

Four or five hours after Jared's birth, I finally got to hold him.  This time I felt so peaceful and content.  Now I was holding my baby.  I was holding a healthy full-term boy.  I was so grateful.  Now I had a baby who would benefit from the lessons that the first baby taught me.  I thought, Jared you are so fortunate to have had a big brother who taught your mother so many important things about love, life, and cherishing it all.  Dustin's short life would be something that we would all benefit from.  Thank you Dustin, Thank you God, and let me give my sweet, precious Jared another hug.