ANOTHER NIGHTMARE: 10/23/22

S A T U R D A Y

A puddle of water. Literally. I was standing in a puddle of water in the middle of the bathroom floor as my pants were down to my knees. I was meaning to sit on the toilet to go pee but I didn’t even start peeing yet before water started pouring out of me. It felt crazy to have absolutely zero control over what was coming out of my body. Unlike last time, it was actually like the movies - my water broke and gushed everywhere. It wasn’t gross, it wasn’t a weird color and it wasn’t painful by any means. It was just… scary. Totally out of nowhere and completely unexpected as I stood there only 29 weeks pregnant.

I knew at that very moment what was happening. I cried out to Michael, who was on the other side of the house sitting on the couch with our 3 ½ year old son Dustin. “Uhhh Michael! Michael! You need to come in here.” My heart was racing. He was standing in the doorway within 3 seconds as he saw the look of panic on my face. He remained calm as I started bursting into tears. The anxiety I felt in that moment was through the roof. I knew we were about to have this baby whether we were ready or not. Michael immediately called my mom so we could drop our son off at her house but she didn’t answer. Then he called his own mom and got ahold of her right away.

I put on new underwear and lined it with a pad before pulling on some sweatpants. It's weird I even had pads in the house because I hate pads. They might as well be called diapers. But I had a bunch on hand because I was on vaginal suppository progesterone pills my whole pregnancy and discharge was my every day normal. But this water that gushed out of me... far from just normal pregnancy discharge. Like I said... a puddle. Anyway. I grabbed my hospital bag and pump bag which were sitting on the floor of our closet. I already had those packed a few weeks prior because when you’ve had a preemie before, you prepare very early on in the second pregnancy.

As I was running around my bedroom packing just a couple extra things, I started hearing Michael down the hallway preparing Dustin that he’s about to be dropped off at grandma and grandpa’s house. The confusion in his voice, the fear I sensed from him and the worry he had over his mommy and soon-to-be sibling was the most innocent and sad thing I’ve heard. I went into Dustin’s room to grab his blankie, some of his stuffed animals and his backpack to put them in. He was already in his pajamas but I didn’t even bother packing extra clothes. Who cares. We rushed out of the house so quickly that I don’t even remember any more details.

We pulled up to my in-laws house and I said goodbye to Dustin, not knowing when I’d even see him next. “Buddy, I want you to be big and brave for me OK?” and that was that. Micheal walked DJ into his parents house while I sat in the car with tears rolling down my face.

We started driving to Maple Grove hospital and I called Labor & Delivery to let them know we were on our way and that I’m only 29 weeks pregnant. They informed me their NICU was at full capacity and if I do happen to deliver baby there that night or next day, they cannot guarantee a room for baby, which means he/she would have to be transported to a different hospital while I stay until getting discharged. UMM, NO. Absolutely not. Not even an option. There is no way I’d ever be OK with birthing my child and then be separated by different hospitals. So we started making our way to the Mother Baby Center attached to Children’s Hospital down in Minneapolis. This was the hospital Dustin was born at and the hospital we are sadly all too familiar with anyway. It was a place we trusted and the place that gave us exceptional care during our entire experience 3 1/2 years ago. So it was a no-brainer to go back.

We got to the hospital and Michael pulled up to the Emergency Department and parked in the ramp. I tried telling Michael I don’t think we are supposed to be going into the Emergency Room and to go to the Mother Baby Center instead. But… he was panicking and parked anyway. As I got out of the car, water started uncontrollably pouring out of me all over again the second I stood vertical. I was soaked. I thought I already lost all the water I possibly could but nope - every step I took it just poured out of me. My pants were completely saturated again. I stood in the middle of the parking ramp unable to move.

“Micheal, I literally cannot move. The second I take a step, water pools out of me. What do I do?" I was actually sort of laughing because I felt like I was in a movie.

“Rach, I don’t know what to do. We need to keep going.”

So I continued to feel water pouring down my legs with every step I took. We finally got into the entrance area of the Emergency Department and found out the whole hospital was on lockdown. Wait, so now I should also fear for my safety? I was so confused. But because of protocol, they couldn’t tell us what was going on. I stood there holding myself between my legs hoping maybe if I don’t move and if I hold myself tight enough, it’ll keep the water in. I shouted out to the security guard that my water broke and that I’m standing here soaking wet. The security guard panicked and got me a wheelchair and told us we needed to get to the Mother Baby Center. I looked right at Michael with the typical “see, told ya so” look that all us women like giving.

Bless this security guard’s heart because he took charge and started pushing me in the wheelchair through the parking ramp all the way to the other side where we finally got to the Mother Baby Center entrance. He wished us luck as Michael hit the button to head up to the desk to check in.

You guys - it was the most surreal feeling… walking into that place feeling like it was too familiar as if we were just here. We were back. Back to face the same walls, the same check-in desks, the same hallways… back to relive the trauma all over again that I deeply tucked away for so long. I was an emotional wreck.

They got me into a Mother Assessment room to make sure the water that was coming out of me was indeed amniotic fluid. I kinda laughed because I mean, what else could this be? An entire gallon of water pooled out of my damn vagina. It was still pooling out as Michael grabbed a towel to shove between my legs. They stuck a q-tip up there, put it in a vial and said it can take up to ten minutes to get the results. I chuckled. MINUTES? It'll be more like SECONDS.. And sure enough… five seconds later the test strip showed up positive for amniotic fluid. Yep. That's when Michael got on the phone and called the fire department to tell the crew he won't be coming in for his shift in the morning.

The delivery doctor that was on that night came into my room and ironically it was the same doctor who delivered my son years ago. The same doctor my mom thought was good looking. Which reminded me of the memory of when I was wheeled away on the bed being walked to the room I was about to deliver Dustin in and all I could see was my mom behind the doctor with her lips voicing "ohhh baby" with two thumbs up as she nodded her head up and down. If you know my mom... you should be surprised if she DIDN'T do this.

“Ok… I only work 2 shifts a month here at this hospital, what are the chances?” he said. I was shocked myself… hoping he wasn’t going to deliver my child again because that meant baby was coming that night.

He did a quick five second ultrasound - literally, five seconds - just to see the positioning of baby. Baby’s head was down - thank God.

Then I was given a covid test. Just me though… not Michael. Not my husband who’s sitting right next to me, who’s going to be with me the rest of the evening, who COULD also have covid but they wouldn’t know because I guess if you’re not carrying the baby, it doesn’t matter? Although… if covid is SO dangerous, wouldn’t they want to make sure he doesn’t have it either? I laugh about this because literally nothing makes sense. Nothing. So yep - got the damn q-tip shoved to my brain and then had a bloody nose. Lovely.

They admitted me to a room in Antepartum. As we got into the room, a flood of emotions rolled over my body as the memories started suffocating me. I knew this room. I knew everything about this room. It all came back to me so quickly that I was having a hard time even processing what was going on. This was the room I was in when my water broke early with Dustin. This was the room I was in until my contractions started. This was the room I once cried so many tears in. It felt like a damn nightmare to be back.

Very quickly nurses started coming in to get things rolling. One started getting an IV in me but blew my veins twice. I have no idea why it was so challenging for her… my veins are big and easy. In all the times I’ve ever had an IV, nobody has ever had difficulty with my veins. Michael was sitting next to me watching the lady do it and I couldn’t help but wonder what was going through his mind since he puts IVs in patients all the time. I don’t like needles - in fact, I don’t do well with them AT ALL. I have to look away because I get so queasy and light headed if I even glance at a needle puncturing my skin and veins. And it didn’t take long (maybe a day) for my arm to start looking like I was a heroin addict because of how bluish purple various parts of my arm became from the IV attempts.

They told me I needed a steroid shot in the butt and I didn’t even have to ask why. I remembered the shot all too well from when I went into preterm labor with Dustin. It helps with baby’s lung development which is crucial when you’re only 29 weeks pregnant. The steroid shots are the WORST though and there’s 2 doses of them - 24 hours apart. So I got my first dose not long after getting into my room and holy hell - it hurt so bad. It’s a really big, thick needle that goes right into the butt muscle. The pain makes you feel like you’re paralyzed for a solid 5-10 minutes. It’s one of those shots you just hold onto a pillow and brace yourself until it’s done. Or.. until the initial paralysis feeling goes away. Brutal.

Then I got pumped with 30 minutes of magnesium through the IV. Magnesium is awful too. It makes you feel incredibly loopy. I felt like I chugged two beers as I was trying to have a conversation with Michael while simultaneously trying to keep my eyes open.

After the magnesium was done, they started me on antibiotics. They pushed antibiotics through the IV which would become routine every 6 hours for the first 48 hours to help prevent any uterus infection. They also used the fetal heart monitor to monitor baby’s heartbeat and any possible contractions going on… which would also become a daily routine, multiple times a day until baby’s arrival.

Everything started to slow down and the nurses were done doing all their testing and medications. They told me I’ll be here in this room until baby comes and that their goal is to keep baby in until I reach 34 weeks (the point at which they’ll induce me due to such high risks of infection and other things that can happen after premature rupture of membranes). This news was not a surprise since I remembered this from last time, although last time I didn’t even make it a day longer before contractions began. And truthfully, I was expecting the same story to unfold again. I was preparing for contractions to start in the morning because that’s what happened last time.

I started to cry more tears thinking about Dustin and what our lives are going to look like these next possible 5 weeks if baby actually does stay in. I asked one of the nurses what the protocol is for visitations, assuming and planning as if baby won’t be coming in the next 24-48 hours. The nurse told me that children under 5 years old cannot visit more than once per week, maybe 2 times at most. When I heard that, my heart sank. I actually felt my heart ache in complete sadness as I began to cry even harder.

HOW am I supposed to go weeks without seeing my son? This cannot be real. WHY is this happening to me? WHY does our family have to endure such pain and hardship when it comes to making a family? It felt so unfair. Because it IS unfair. Life is unfair.

But I knew I wasn’t going to let this protocol come without a fight. My mama bear pants were ON and ready to go. I said I would like to speak to whoever I need to about this because my son will be coming more than once a week, I can promise you that. I will advocate for him and for myself to the ends of the Earth if I have to. And that’s exactly what my plan was when I was told I can talk to the assistant in the morning since the head social services person wouldn’t be in until the following day.

The thought of seeing Dustin only once per week completely destroyed me. I selfishly at one point wanted this baby to come sooner than later just so I didn’t have to be stuck in this hospital room away from my son. Is that bad to admit that? Gosh that’s terrible of me. But that very first night was so hard on me that I couldn’t help but think terrible thoughts like that. I was so emotionally drained from everything that happened out of nowhere that I clearly wasn’t thinking straight. I tried to sleep on it that night but I just couldn’t. I tossed and turned for hours as Michael was sound asleep on the most uncomfortable couch across the room.

HOW does he do that? How is he able to just shut his mind off and fall asleep so fast? Men…

I laid there that night in the darkness with a million scenarios racing through my mind, a million “what ifs” and a million fears. I think I had about one hour of sleep that night between a face full of tears.

S U N D A Y

The next morning came - although it didn’t even feel like the next day to me. It felt like the same day with a one hour nap. They put the fetal monitor on me and baby was looking good and I continued to not have contractions. I quickly realized how reassured I get when we do monitoring checks.

Overall I physically felt fine. Which was so crazy to me because when I went into labor with Dustin at 29 weeks, my water didn’t just gush out of me. It only trickled out slowly all day long… and then BAM. Contractions happened about 12 hours after getting to the hospital and things progressed fast. He was out of me in 36 hours. But this time was different. This time my water totally broke open and you’d THINK this is when a baby would come right away but it was the total opposite. I actually wasn’t contracting at all. I'm still not. It’s like everything slowed down and came to a halt. So bizarre. So the “waiting game” began.

Michael left the hospital to go pick up Dustin from his parents house, head home to grab a few more things I needed, fed our cat, got a few things done and then planned on coming down with Dustin to visit me - that is, if we got the OK to do so. I ordered breakfast off the hospital menu and promised myself this would be the only damn thing I’d order off this menu. I knew my mom was already working on making a ton of meals to bring me but in the meantime, I needed SOMETHING in my stomach. So I ordered french toast and bacon. And when the food came… I chuckled. I swear the french toast was microwaved because it was so… soggy. And tasteless. And… where was the cinnamon?! I promise you it was the last meal I ordered off that menu.

The assistant of social services came in to see me that morning to touch base about Dustin’s visitation that day. Through the tears and anxiety she saw plastered all over my face, she said Dustin could come that day for a couple hours but as far as the rest of the week goes, it’ll be up to the head person who wouldn’t be in until the next morning. I said I totally understand and that I’ll take what I can get for the day.

Michael and Dustin came down to see me and I just bursted into tears. I’ve never been so happy to see my son and give him the biggest hug. He was so happy to see that I was OK and that baby was OK and had all sorts of questions for me, especially about the things he saw in the room. He did not like seeing the IV in my arm. It scared him. So we had a few things to talk through first and then had the best visit. We watched the Viking games, colored, cuddled and watched a movie, ate snacks…. It was the best. I knew saying goodbye was going to be hard and oh was it ever. They left later that afternoon and all I could think about was the fact that I had no idea when I’d get to see him next. I just wanted it to be the next morning so bad so I could talk to the head person about setting up a visitation plan. She had no idea what was coming.

The rest of the day became my new "normal"… antibiotics every 6 hours, my prenatal pill (which I brought my own from home), a stool softener pill because I was backed up, a blood thinner shot 3x per day to prevent blood clots (since I was going to be on best rest for awhile and not giving my body much movement), etc… ya know, just add it to the list.

I door dashed Chipotle to my room that night because I refused to eat hospital food again and all the home cooked meals my mom made weren’t coming until the next day. So… Chipotle for dinner. I also had to get my second steroid shot that night and I got it in the opposite butt cheek as last time. & yep - hurt like absolute hell. But I know these are so important for a preemie baby’s lung development so you do what you gotta do.

That night I got 4 hours of sleep. I was so incredibly behind on sleep but I just couldn’t get comfortable, couldn’t shut my mind off and couldn’t ease my anxiety and frustrations about everything going on.

M O N D A Y

Monday morning. The day I was impatiently waiting for. I got my daily medications, vitals and monitoring done. Then my mom came down to visit me and stocked my mini fridge with meals. She is one of the best cooks I know. And then…. the head lady of social services came into my room to discuss a plan regarding Dustin. I anxiously ready for this conversation.

Let’s just say I put my foot down and did not budge. Respectfully though. I stayed respectful, heartfelt and honest with my emotions. I told her my son needs me just as much as I need him. And that being away from each other is hard enough, but only getting to see him one day a week will absolutely destroy my mental health and my son’s well-being. I went on to tell her that I’m a stay-at-home mom so he and I are around each other 24/7… and that my anxiety will be even worse if these protocols don’t bend for our family.

After what seemed like a longer conversation than I anticipated, we made a compromise on 4 to 5 days a week… the days Michael is not on shift at the fire department so that both of them can come down together and see me. Luckily he only works 2, sometimes 3, shifts per week so all the other days they’d have time and freedom to visit me. I didn’t want to be too greedy and ask for it every day (although, I did initially ask for that but it got shut down fast) so I took the 4 to 5 days as a win and left it at that.

I didn’t feel HAPPY about the compromise but I did feel more at peace with the plan moving forward. The lady was super nice and honestly, everyone here at this hospital has been fantastic. They just don’t know what they’re up against… because I’m a mama who will protect my kids at all costs, who won’t go down without a fight and who will advocate for the very best when it comes to my children.

Michael and Dustin visited me again that afternoon. I was approached with the biggest smile on my little boy as he was holding a pumpkin cream cold brew from Starbucks and a breakfast sandwich to compliment the drink.

CAN HE GET ANY CUTER?!

He ran into my arms and I hugged him so tight. Our Starbucks dates looked a little different for awhile but as long as I had him with me, it didn’t matter whether we were sitting in a coffee shop or on a hospital bed getting crumbs all over the bedding. All that mattered was that we were still doing our coffee dates. Together.

We colored some more, decorated a halloween haunted house, snuggled up and watched a movie…

I know I talk about the joy I get when I see my son but I promise I also do get joy seeing my husband too! It’s just more boring to talk about a husband than a child :) But it’s been so refreshing having Michael in my room too. My two favorite people in the world. My two pieces of home. The two boys I feel the most comfort and safe with.

Saying goodbye was really tough that day. Like… really tough. I bear hugged both my boys as tears welled up in my eyes knowing I wasn’t going to see them the next day. It was the hardest goodbye yet because I knew the next day was going to be a lonely one. I watched Michael and Dustin walk down the hallway as they left my room and all I could hear was Dustin crying. Then I started crying. I shut my room door and the crying turned into bawling. I sat at the edge of my bed with my hands over my face and watched tears fall into a puddle on the floor. I remember wishing I had a lock on my door so I could make sure no nurse would come in while I was having this moment. A moment I wanted to curl up in a ball on the floor and just scream.

I composed myself and started listening to my worship playlist. Whenever I feel a deep level of sadness, hurt or anxiety, worship music has always helped calm my soul. There’s just nothing better than hearing words that speak so directly to you. I got the best sleep that night probably because I was so emotionally drained - and sleep deprived - from the last few days.

A L L T H E O T H E R D A Y S

Each day really doesn’t change much from one to the next. Every day nurses come in periodically to check my vitals, give me medications and do monitoring in the morning and evening. Nothing new, nothing exciting. I was told I’m a “boring” patient and that “boring” patients means a good thing! I think this will be the only time in life I want to be known as boring.

When you’re confined to a little hospital room for days and days - possibly weeks and weeks - the walls start to cave in on you. No matter how many things have been given to me to keep busy, I still find myself starting to lose my damn mind in here. The first few days I couldn’t even step foot outside my room. By the 4th day I was finally able to get wheel-chaired around the hospital hallways which was a nice change of scenery (gosh that sounds pathetic). By the 6th day I was finally able to be wheel-chaired outside to breathe in some fresh air and feel the sun on my skin. It was so refreshing being outside even if it was just for a half hour.

The days my boys don’t get to come and visit are the days I definitely struggle the most. As time passes, I feel myself sinking deeper into a hole of sadness. It’s so lonely lying here knowing I’m missing out on so much outside of these hospital walls. I miss my family. I miss being next to Dustin for every second of every day. I miss all the activities we do together, running errands together, going to fun places every day, having meals together, bath time, bedtime, reading books, cuddling on the couch, playing outside, singing in the car to the most annoying songs on repeat….

Being separated from my family has truly flipped our world upside down. No mother should have to be separated from her family like this. No child should have to navigate this extreme change in routine. No parent should have to parent alone while their spouse is in the hospital… also alone. This entire journey has become such a catch-22. We so desperately want baby to stay in longer but it comes with a cost. The longer baby stays in, the longer I’m stuck here isolated away from the two people that breathe the most life into me. The longer I’m stuck here, the more and more I go out of my mind and feel like I can’t handle it anymore. And the longer I’m stuck here, the longer Dustin has to have moments where he breaks down crying to see his mommy… waiting for life to go back to what it once was.

I know this is about to sound ridiculous and maybe even a bit dramatic but - I’m afraid my son will forget the closeness and the bond we have the longer I’m away from him. I’m afraid he will get too adjusted to this way of life and things won’t feel the same whenever I do get to step back into our home again. I’m truthfully so fearful of that. And until you’ve been in my shoes, you can’t even tell me that’s crazy.

I must add though before I forget - Michael is amazing doing this whole parenting thing alone. How did I ever get so lucky to find a man like him? He has been so on top of things, bringing me all sorts of items I’ve needed each time they visit me, keeping Dustin busy and having fun so that he’s not too focused on missing mommy, keeping the house clean, getting shit done around the house, meeting up with MY mama friends for play dates just so Dustin can have some normalcy in his life and see his best friends, bringing our boy to open skate, bringing him to school, arranging all the things so Dustin can be taken care of by grandparents on days he’s on shift (he does 24 hour shifts at the FD), coming down to visit me every day he can, packing a bag of stuff for Dustin to do down at the hospital each time.... just everything. Literally everything he’s doing he's being a rockstar dad/husband. I cannot thank him enough. Michael, if you’re reading this… I’m so proud of you. I’m proud of the person you are to everyone around you no matter what the circumstance is. You are the definition of a true family man. All men should take notes from you. You are a man to look up to.

To everyone who has supported us so far… THANK YOU. It takes a village to get through tough seasons in life like this. The daily texts from so many of you checking in on me means the world to me. I just feel so blessed to be loved and thought of by so many of you: flowers being delivered, tons of home cooked meals for me and my boys, gift baskets of all sorts of goodies, stocking me up with snacks, lending me or buying me books to read, decorating my room with halloween decor, adult coloring books to keep me busy, gas cards for Michael driving back and forth all the time (its about 35-40 min ONE way for us), fuzzy robe, fuzzy socks, comfy pants, sparkling water, dark chocolate, activities and games for Dustin to do when he visits me, Starbucks gift cards, Venmo gifts, cards, encouraging quotes sent to me, driving out of your way to come visit me and give me company, baked goods, doing play dates with my boys so DJ can have some normalcy and distraction, family stepping up and taking DJ on days Michael works, dropping off other various items, all the DM’s on IG, the comments on my posts (I’ve read every one of them), the daily prayers so many of you are doing over our family… the list goes on. NOTHING has gone unnoticed. You are all so amazing and I truly cannot thank you enough. When I look around my room at everything in here, I see bits and pieces of each of you that have contributed in some way or another. And maybe this is odd but I feel a little less lonely when I look around. Because I see each of you here in some way or another. And it reminds me how many of you are in our corner thinking of us, praying over us and supporting us.

We don’t know when baby is coming. It could be tomorrow, it could be in a week, but it also could be weeks from now. At the latest, baby will be making his/her arrival in 4 weeks. That’s 28 days. I know some of you think that’s not that long but when you have a family at home and you’re stuck on a bed 40 minutes away for 28 more days…. It feels like an eternity.

I would like to end this with a thought. Someone shared something with me the other day and it really resonated with me as I try to find some silver lining in all of this heartache, fear and uncertainty…

Waiting. Waiting is one of the hardest seasons in life but it’s also where God works His magic. If you’re in the season of waiting… waiting for whatever it is you’re so deeply wanting… just know, God is testing you and your strength. This is where He shows up the most. This is when you lean into Him and fully trust in whatever plan set out for you. Because THAT is true faith. And it comes in the season of waiting.

Waiting comes with a price but it sure makes you appreciate whatever it is you’re waiting for just that much more. I truly believe the harder it is to get the one thing you’re so deeply wanting, the more you’ll cherish it.

Me and Michael believe we have such a different and intense bond with Dustin because of the challenges - and the waiting period - we had to endure to get him home. We both feel our bond with him, how our family dynamic is, our perception on life, our views on parenthood… all stem from a very deep appreciation for our son after going through an experience most parents never have to endure in their lifetime. And I know God is using us again for us to feel the same kind of appreciation for this new baby all over again.

I'll update again soon. Thanks for reading. xo