The past ten days seem like a dream to me and I don’t want to
forget any part of Layla’s story so I’m taking a minute to write everything
down and hopefully keep posting updates here on my blog.
Anyone who knows me knows that I wear my heart on my sleeve;
I don’t often keep my emotions to myself. While I know this particular character
trait of mine can get me in trouble, I know this part of me is something I don’t
want to change. I process trials and difficult moments by talking about them. I
also cherish and embrace moments in my life by sharing and bragging about them
because it’s how I understand and deal with things. I am going to be pretty
open about things as they unfold and if that makes anyone uncomfortable, then
just don’t visit my blog.
Let me begin by saying that my pregnancy with Layla rocked
me. I know I should be grateful for the opportunity to have gotten pregnant and
I could never be more grateful for this little miracle, but my pregnancy was
truly something I wasn’t ready for. Looking back, I think all these things that
happened to my body ultimately protected our little bug and hindsight truly is
20/20. I don’t need to go into the details of everything, but one major
struggle of mine was sacral back pain. Because of an accident I was in as a
little girl, my pelvic alignment, in correlation with that accident-fractured
hip, gave me some debilitating back pain which put me in bed most of my
pregnancy. I really believe that helped me keep my sweet babe in to cook as
long as possible. While in bed most of my pregnancy, I was angry and frustrated
for how painful things were; but now, I’m so happy I had the chance to take it
easy and practically put myself on bed rest.
On Saturday, July 31st at about 10:30 PM, I
started to notice contractions that were harder and more frequent than the Braxton-Hicks
contractions I had been experiencing sporadically. As a first-time mama, I didn’t
want to rush to the hospital only to be turned away for not actually being in
labor. I
tried to sleep through the contractions, but these were HARD. I was feeling
super nauseous and I couldn’t breathe through them the way I had been
practicing. I tried to walk around, sit on our exercise ball, hang onto Greg,
etc. I kept breathing through each contraction, but they were about 5 minutes
apart. I kept telling Greg I didn’t think I could be in labor and I felt stupid
calling the on-call nurse at my OB’s practice. We’d take things 20 minutes at a
time and at the end of the 20 minutes, assess how close contractions were and
my level of pain. At about 1:00 AM, Greg called the on-call nurse and she told
us to head in to the hospital.
When we arrived to triage, baby and I were put on monitors
and sure enough—these contractions were the real deal. After the doctor checked
my cervix, I remember being informed I was dilated to 3 cm and 90% effaced. The
tears just came. It was now nearly 2 AM and I was just being told that I was in
pre-term labor. I was terrified and sick to my stomach because this baby was
only 33 weeks and 3 days gestation. How could I have done this to her? I told
Greg I was sorry for not keeping her longer and he reassured me that things
would be okay. I know it’s not my fault she came early, but that is really hard
to accept or agree with sometimes. My mind was beating me up for taking Pilates
once a week for my back pain, or for not eating perfectly while pregnant. I
wondered if there were signs I ignored that put this baby in danger. I felt
solely responsible and I was pretty mad at my body as they wheeled me into
labor and delivery.
I was given a steroid as soon as they discovered I was in
labor in order to help Layla’s lungs develop quickly. Obviously a concern for
preemies is that they are able to breathe when they arrive. In order to try and
slow labor as long as possible I was given magnesium through an IV. It all
happened pretty quickly and I remember hearing the nurse tell me that magnesium
would make me feel like I had the flu. Hopefully the magnesium would slow or
stop contractions over time. All my
smooth muscle would relax and therefore I couldn’t eat, get out of bed, or pee
on my own for 24+ hours. As soon as it
hit my veins, I was on fire. You can read about all the lovely effects
magnesium has on a patient below:
“…studies have shown that magnesium sulfate can delay delivery
for at least several days (depending on how far dilated a woman's cervix is
when the medication is started).
This isn't a lot of time,
but it can make a big difference for the fetus if the mother is given steroids
along with magnesium sulfate. After 48 hours, steroids improve a baby's lung
function and reduce the risk of dying by 40 percent.
Magnesium sulfate also
reduces the infant’s risk for cerebral palsy if they are born too early.
Potential side effects include flushing, feeling uncomfortably
warm, headache, dry mouth, nausea, and blurred vision. Women often say they
feel wiped out, as though they have the flu. These side effects can be
uncomfortable, but they are not dangerous.
When given in high doses,
magnesium sulfate can cause cardiac arrest and respiratory failure.
Fortunately, women can be monitored for increases in the magnesium blood
levels. If the levels become too high, the dose can be lowered." Taken from Healthline
Basically, doctor’s give women in pre-term labor magnesium
sulfate in a near-toxic dose in order to be effective. Blood-draws every two
hours help watch for toxicity levels and drive a patient crazy who has a phobia
of needles. Those flu-like symptoms are more like the Spanish-flu of 1911 symptoms.
I was incredibly nauseous, dizzy and my entire body felt as though it was under
heat lamps. My room was kept to about 60 degrees and I had fans helping
circulate air around my body. Anytime someone briefly walked in front of the
fan, it felt as if my body temperature would rise 20 degrees! I could go on and
on about how miserable this treatment made me feel and I might even prefer
labor over magnesium sulfate.
At this point, Greg and I decided to let our parents know
what was going on since we definitely weren’t going home. At about 5 AM, I
called my parents’ house and told them I was in labor. Still crying and
nervous, I explained the plan to try and stop labor. My mom was already
scheduled to visit us in Texas the following day, but she was able to find a
flight that was leaving SLC around 8 AM. Greg and our good friend, Garen, gave Layla
and me a blessing around 8:30 AM. Until this point, I had been so scared. I
didn’t even care what was happening to me, but I was so scared for our little
baby. I was thinking about what babies look like at 33 weeks and all that they
still need to do in the womb; however, I felt such peace surrounding any
outcome as I listened to Greg bless and pray that my body would be able to do
what it needed to do.
I need to mention that through all of this, Layla was
never under any distress. I listened to her heartrate on the fetal monitor the
entire time. When nurses asked if I wanted to turn down the volume, I said no.
It was incredibly reassuring to hear her moving, grooving, and pumping blood
like a champ. Goodness, I love that little girl.
I don’t know at which point during all of this, but eventually
that evening, contractions did begin to slow. I still had them and they were
HARD. I couldn’t walk or move or apply any of my practiced labor methods so I
just lay there during contractions, on fire, head spinning for 24 hours. Every
hour I didn’t give birth was one more hour Layla could grow and develop. Because
things started to slow down, my mom stayed with me while Greg went home to get
a little sleep and try and study for his neuroscience test which was going to
take place the following morning. I don’t really remember this, but at some
point Sunday evening, I was moved to an Antepartum room to finish up my
magnesium and to be monitored for labor progression. Contractions had slowed
enough that I wasn’t in active labor anymore and they were able to give me baby’s
second dose of steroids at 4:00 AM Monday morning. Hallelujah!!!
I woke up around 7:30 AM to the sound of my sweet baby’s heart-rate on the monitor and I felt like a whole new person. I was exhausted,
but I was taken off the magnesium sulfate and as it filtered through my body I
realized just how awful I had felt while on that stuff. My nurse told me that
she hadn’t seen any contractions for a couple hours on the monitor and that I
COULD EAT BREAKFAST!! I hadn’t eaten since dinner on Saturday night.
Things felt good. Greg was able to take his test knowing I
wasn’t showing any labor signs (besides an occasional contraction every couple
hours), my mom and I got to chat and catch up now that I wasn’t on magnesium,
and my OB, Dr. Glenn, was on the clock so she got to spend time and explain
things to me. After the magnesium, it was always in the plan to have me receive
Procardia for 24 hours just to help kick this preterm labor. If by the next
morning (Tuesday), I still didn’t show contractions, I would then be monitored
without any interventions before I could be sent home the following day
(Wednesday) on bedrest. Between Dr. Glenn and the high-risk specialist, I felt
extremely reassured. Both told me that at this point, baby had been given some
great support. I looked pretty good and if I still didn’t show any labor signs over
the next couple days, I could be sent home on bedrest. If I did go into labor,
they weren’t going to try and stop things because it wouldn’t really be
beneficial. They also said that every minute she stayed inside, was a minute
she would grow and she had great chances if she came at this point because we
got those steroids to her. Grow, hulk baby! I finally started updating a few
friends because I felt like we were in the clear. I honestly felt I would go
home on bedrest—part of me just felt so confident that I had made it through. I
felt that Layla would definitely come early, but at least not this week! Maybe
she’d come around 36 weeks, and I felt pretty great about that.
Monday evening was mellow besides the frequent monitoring,
blood draws, Procardia doses, etc. I slept the best this night, although Greg
would probably disagree. Procardia is for high blood pressure, but it also is
used to stop preterm labor and can drastically lower blood pressure. I was not
supposed to get up on my own and with all the fluids running through me, I had
to use the bathroom pretty often. Greg has been such an incredible caretaker.
If pooping and peeing while your husband holds you doesn’t signify true love, I
don’t know what does. Ha!
Tuesday was uneventful. I was poked, prodded and monitored
even more just to make sure things were okay. I was visited by the high-risk
specialist and my OB once more—both were very optimistic in that should I make
it through the night, they would talk about what bedrest would be like at home.
I was taken off all medications to stop labor to see if my body had decided to
keep baby in a while longer. They also said that nothing else would be given to
stop contractions because my 34-week mark was the following morning. After
spending the day by my side, my mom switched Greg places so he could sleep by
me and head to school in the morning. That night, we both went to sleep with
things feeling peaceful. At about 2:00 AM Wednesday morning, I woke up to a
pretty hard contraction. I hadn’t been monitored in several hours because I
hadn’t felt any contractions so I called the nurse and she hooked me up to
monitor baby and my contractions. Layla still was just happy as a clam!
Unfortunately, contractions were frequent enough that the nurse decided to let
the on-call doctor know what was going on.
I have a lot of trust in modern medicine. I think that we
live in a world with smart, responsible medical professionals and that as a
patient, I can trust what doctors decide to do; however, I was uneasy that this
particular nurse seemed to diagnose the problem and gave me her plan of what to
do. She described a medication that could be offered every 20 minutes to stop
contractions and although there are some risks, several rounds of the
medication could be administered. She went to confirm with the on-call doctor
and came back with the injections. Greg held my hand as I got another IV. I watched
it leak, burst and swell in my wrist. The nurse placed a new IV, but it was
messy and it bled all over me. I got one of the injections directly into my
upper-arm as fluids helped flush it through my body. This medication hurt. HURT. Although short-lived, I felt it rush through my veins like shards of
glass. While Greg was probably fascinated by everything happening, he was good
to hold my hand and keep me calm through all of this. Over the next 30 minutes,
contractions slowed nearly to a hault, but then picked up again so I got a
second round of this broken-glass poison!!! After another 30 minutes,
contractions had stopped completely and we were able to go back to sleep around
5 AM.
Wednesday, August 3rd was the day. Greg and I were exhausted,
so he decided to skip his morning class and get some sleep at home. I was
really distraught over our middle of the night drama. Probably due to lack of
sleep, I was anxious and frantic about the way the nurse seemed to
call-the-shots (no pun intendend…). What was even more irritating was that when
the high-risk specialist found out what had happened, she did not approve. She
reassured me that no more interventions would take place should I show labor
signs. She made it clear on my orders and apologized that there had been
miscommunication.
By this point in my hospital stay, I was done. My arms looked
awful from all my IV sites, blood draws and injection sites. I was mentally and
physically exhausted. My mom came to spend the day with me and our morning was
great. I had a short nap, and I had her get me a tall, Vanilla-Bean frap from the
hospital Starbucks with a slice of iced-lemon pound cake. It was nice to just
rest and eat some yummy treats.
My cute nurse for the day fixed up the messy IV
site from the night before and after lunch she told me I could take a shower
(FINALLY!). My mom helped me to the shower and stood outside the curtain to
make sure I was okay. I had been under the shower stream for about five minutes
when I got a contraction. This one wasn’t too hard—but it was enough to make me
hold on to the walls and breathe through it. My mom heard me breathing through
this contraction and asked if I was alright. I told her it wasn’t too long and that
I was fine. I decided I’d better be quick with this shower and get back in bed.
Not thirty seconds later, I felt a warm gush between my legs… but I was in the
shower so I stepped out of the warm stream of the shower and realized that this
wasn’t just a relaxing trickle from the shower. The nurse was notified as I
made my way back to bed. After an amniotic fluid test, the nurse confirmed that
my water had broken and she hooked me up to the monitors. She checked my cervix
and I was dilated to 5 cm and 100% effaced. The contractions came at about 8
minutes apart and were getting harder with each one. It was time to have a
baby.
When I had left the shower to lay down, my mom noticed a text
from Greg asking how things were. She told him he’d better get back to the hospital
and he was there before I knew it. He met us down in labor and delivery.
At this point, I felt an immense amount of peace. I was
worried about Layla and I
didn’t stop praying that she’d be alright; I prayed
that she’d arrive without any distress so that she could get all the support
she needed. I started preparing myself for what my baby might look like: she
might be about 4.5-5 pounds or smaller (according to all my pregnancy aps), she
might have trouble breathing or regulating her temperature. I knew that she
would have the best care waiting for her when she arrived but I didn’t want her
to be in pain or distress from everything my body had been through the past few
days. I pleaded with my Father in Heaven to let me endure whatever I needed to
but to let my baby feel safe and protected when she came into this world.
The next few hours are the hardest to remember from last
week. I don’t know if it’s because I was so exhausted by the time I had started
my final attempt at labor, or if it’s because of the euphoria and adrenaline
that got me through delivery. The details of Layla’s actual delivery are just
not as clear. I know that my waters had broken high, which meant my doctor had
to break the rest of my waters. I know that my contractions were not consistent
for the first couple hours. I would get three hard, intense, contractions in a
matter of minutes and then I wouldn’t have another for about 5 minutes. I’d get
the next 4 or 5 contractions in a pretty consistent pattern but their level of
pain would vary significantly. I wanted to avoid Pitocin just because my
hardest contractions were killing me. The last thing I wanted was for my body
to get hard contractions, really fast. I didn’t want to stress my baby and I felt
that Pitocin would do that. After some great conversing with the nurse, I
decided to go ahead and take the Pitocin in the smallest amount they offer and
go from there. I thought to myself that my initial labor plans for a full-term
delivery were pretty much gone due to the events that had taken place in the
days before, and once I let go of trying to do things the way I had practiced
and planned for a full-term delivery, I was able to relax and progress pretty
quickly.
Let me just say that through this experience, I applaud all
mamas everywhere. I had it set in my head that there are ideal or superior
methods to deliver a baby, but not anymore. There is no wrong way to have a
baby. I wish that every mom felt confident no matter how their baby comes to
this earth. No mom should ever feel guilty about the way she gives birth. Was
it frustrating to not have things the way I wanted? Absolutely—BEYOND frustrating;
however, I needed to worry about my sweet angel and make sure she got her
safely and comfortably.
Around 9:00 PM (all pretty fuzzy to me) I had progressed to
about 7-8 cm dilation and I was working through the most painful contractions
since Saturday night when I first went into labor. I was up, out of the bed,
leaning on Greg for support crying as I tried to make it from contraction to
contraction. He’d have me take things 5 minutes at a time, but eventually I
started to fall apart. I was exhausted and stressed. I was so worried about
everything and began to shake. The nurse came in and noticed that the baby was
having some inconsistencies on the monitor that could be correlated with change
in oxygen or significant change in heart rate. Or those inconsistencies could
mean the monitor didn’t get the best reading. I just wanted her to come. I
decided that I wasn’t trying to prove myself to anyone and I asked for that
epidural—STAT! I told Greg to reassure me that this decision was okay; that all
the risks I had read regarding epidurals wouldn’t be a risk to my sweet girl or
me. He was extremely reassuring, motivating and comforting as I got the
epidural and waited for things to progress. Even though I felt numbness and the
effects of the pain medication, it took a while for the epidural to even work
as I worked through several more contractions that rocked my world.
When the nurse checked me around 10:00 PM??? I was dilated to
a 10 and ready to roll. She was an incredible nurse. I am so blessed she helped
deliver my baby because she made things easy as she reassured and coached me.
She made the delivery beautiful because she was so skilled at her job and
it was a wonderful experience to have someone like her there. She helped coach
me through pushing for about 30 minutes and then told me to “stop!” She
notified NICU to get to our room ASAP and she called the doctor.
Greg and my mom were both at my side during delivery for
which I am grateful. Greg was able to stay by my side, never leaving. My mom
would get me ice chips or help both of us with encouraging words. At times she
stepped aside to give Greg and me some time together during contractions and when
I was receiving my epidural. She was a perfect assistant to us both and I am
just so glad she was able to be there.
Because Layla would be 34 weeks, she would automatically go
to the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit. The NICU team was waiting at the foot of
the delivery bed behind my doctor while I was coached through only two more
pushes. Layla Jacqueline Johnson was born at 11:09 PM and my whole entire world
changed.
I remember my final push and everyone being excited that she
had arrived. I looked down to see one big baby! I heard my doctor say, “She’s
got a double chin!” and I immediately heard my daughter start to cry. I
remember telling her to, “Cry, baby cry! Keep crying!” because I just wanted
those little lungs to work. She was pink and crying and mine. After Greg cut
her cord, Layla was put over on her little bed where NICU began assessing her.
I delivered my placenta and the doctor began cleaning and stitching me up. I
had a pretty awful, bi-lateral internal-tear, and because of that I am beyond
happy I had an epidural.
Before NICU took my baby upstairs, they let me do
skin-to-skin with Layla. I was told during labor that this might not happen
depending on her condition, so I was beyond thrilled when I finally got to hold
my baby in my arms. She was pretty alert, yet calm, as we got to snuggle for a
few minutes.
There’s a lyric in one of Adele’s songs that says “Right
before my eyes I saw, my heart it came to life.” I can’t think of a better way
to describe what it was like to hold my daughter for the first time.
I love this picture of Layla giving one of the nurses the stink-eye!
Greg went up to NICU with Layla to be with her as they finished more
testing and eventually I was taken up to visit her before I was taken to my
room. I don’t remember when I fell asleep, but I remember waking up later that
morning in a lot of pain. I remember feeling pretty confused because my belly
no longer held my baby, yet I wasn’t holding her, either. She was in a
different room in the hospital and I couldn’t really wrap my mind over what had
just happened over the past several days.
I still am trying to wrap my mind around the events since
Saturday, July 31st. I still don’t have my baby with me and that is
the worst feeling I’ve ever felt. When I am not with her, my heart aches in a
way I can’t describe. I want to be with her every minute of the day, but my
body isn’t healing as it should and I am torn between sitting by her side for
hours and hours or trying to recover and take care of myself. I feel like a
terrible mom for not being there for her. I’m furious because my body went into
labor early. I’m miserable thinking about her being without her mommy and daddy
at night. I’m worried because I don’t know when she’ll be able to come home. There
are a lot of things I’m feeling and this is the hardest experience of my life,
but ultimately I’m grateful.
I’m grateful she is so big and that her lungs work perfectly.
She was SIX POUNDS! She hasn’t needed any help breathing and all her other
vitals have been steady and true. Other than losing a little weight and getting
pretty tired when she eats, she’s kicking butt. Oh, that little girl is a tough
cookie. She does things her own way and I love her for that.
Right now, we have a pretty solid routine. I am pumping
breast milk every three hours so that Layla gets all her food from her mama. Each
morning, my mom drives me into the hospital for Layla’s first several feedings,
and we hang out with her for several hours. Layla and I practice
breast-feeding, enjoy skin-to-skin as long as possible and I die over her
cuteness. When I tear myself away from her, I head home and try to rest a
little. Then Greg and I head back to the hospital in the evening for her
nighttime feeding and we tuck her in for the night. When we leave each night my
heart breaks even more. I can’t help but sob on the drive home because I just
want to be with my baby. I know she is getting excellent care and I wouldn’t
want to take her home if she wasn’t ready. But, that doesn’t make it any easier
to be without my miracle girl.
I will post more detailed updates on Layla’s status later,
but for now I want to just ask you for your prayers. Just pray that Layla eats
and eats and eats and that she’ll do everything she needs to do to grow. Pray that she is cozy and happy in her little
bed with the wonderful nurses who take care of her when I’m not there. Pray
that she doesn’t feel my lack of presence when I’m not there.
Thank you to everyone who has helped with food, prayers,
support and more. We are immensely blessed and I know Layla has a lot of fans
who love and support her.
