Pregnancy Awareness Week - The Preemiehood Story

This week in South Africa we are celebrating Pregnancy Awareness Week. 

Birth trauma is real and is something that needs to be highlighted and an issue that needs to be  fixed globally. 

A few years ago when I became a preemie mom I found this awesome page called Preemiehood. It has the most awesome preemie content.

I always wondered who was behind the creation of this beautiful page and what their story was because every, single post seems to speak directly to me.

So I got in touch with the creator/founder and found out that Sarah Zellner is the lady behind the name. And what a rollercoaster she has been on having had not 1,not 2, not 3... but 4 preemies!!!

Sarah was kind enough to give us a glimpse into her first experience of becoming a preemie mom. 

Here is the post told in her words.

Do check out her page @preemiehood

XOXO, T

Preemiehood By: Sarah Zellner 

I have given birth to four premature baby boys. 

My first pregnancy was certainly my most traumatic. I had repressed most of it, and it took years to slowly come back. The day I found out I was pregnant, my [now] ex husband was arrested for domestic violence. 

At my first appointment, I was told my son had a SUA. Single umbilical artery, and he was measuring small. I was put on high risk care. Following that, I had quite a few trips to L&D due to high blood pressure I assumed was solely from anxiety. It was partly, but I was also diagnosed with early onset severe preeclampsia in the middle/end of my second trimester. The two combined were restricting growth and I heard the term, “IUGR” used for the first time. “Now try not to stress about any of this, you have enough stress and everything you feel is x10 for your baby.” Really, Doc? 

My son didn’t move much, I could actually feel how tight my stomach muscles were, like they were squeezing him. They recommended an amnio. While I am being prepped, they tell me my son has trisomy 18 and they need to see the extent of it, my mind is blown. The nurse then tells me not to worry, she had a tubal pregnancy recently and “Losing a baby isn’t as hard as people make it seem,” I will be able to have more. Those words cut into my mind, and they will always be there.

I waited 72 hours in pure agony not knowing the outcome of the tests. When they did come back, they showed nothing wrong with Jaxson. “He is lying, funny is all.” It went from, “I am going to lose this child” to him just lying funny, just like that, like nobody's real feelings were even taken into account. 

I continue to go in three times a week for stress tests, every single week for labs, and every single week for 24 hour urines. At 30 weeks I was admitted and I was told, “You are not leaving until your baby is born, if you do, he WILL die.”

My blood pressure was out of control and I was spilling protein like it was my job. “Let’s do another amnio, we need to see how his lungs are doing, we may need to take him sooner than later.” 

I begged them not to do it, but it got me nowhere. They went ahead with it, and the second that needle went in, I went into labor. Everything around me started spinning, I thought I was going to be sick, and they were prepping for my son to come out. I don’t really even know how this is possible, babies can’t survive if they are born early. You read that correctly. I had NO idea that my son could be born early and live. I never knew anyone who had a preemie, and all this time in and out of appointments and procedures, not one single person told me about premature babies or the NICU. 

I continue to be monitored until the day they walk in and say, “We are going to induce labor today.” For sixteen hours I sat there and I did not dilate at all. Just a few contractions.. Finally falling asleep I awoke at 2:30 a.m. to nurses telling me I needed to flip over on all fours. Jaxson had stopped breathing and they were taking him out.

They put me under and I could not breathe. I had been tied down, and the last thing I remember was thinking, “I am going to die.” 

When I awoke from surgery I was back in my room. A nurse walked in and said, “Good you’re up, we need to press on your stomach.” I never had a baby, I had no idea what this meant. She proceeded to get on the bed and straddle me. She took both her hands and pressed with all of her force, again and again on my stomach until I was screaming and crying in pain begging her to stop. “I will stop for now, I will be back later to finish though so you better toughen up. 

Now, if you want to see your baby, he is in the NICU and to get there, you need to walk. Once the mag is done you can go.” That was the first time she mentioned my baby was even alive. I had no idea how much he weighed, no idea how he was doing, and no idea where the NICU even was. 

I was in so much pain and it just continued to get worse. I was straddled two more times within about 90 minutes, each time, more and more blood left my body. By the time they told me I could get up and walk to go see my son, I couldn’t hold up my body. “Well until you can walk you can’t go see him, you might want to try harder.” 

So I did, and I passed out on the floor. My doctor didn’t come in until the next day, she had labs run immediately and thank God she did. I was just a few hours away from death. I then received several blood transfusions, and got a wheelchair to go to the NICU and see my son, 48 hours after he was born.

 I cannot tell you why or what exactly happened, but something had gone terribly wrong. During my c section, I did suffer from a lack of oxygen, when I said I couldn’t breathe, I really couldn’t, it’s called hypoxemia. I had developed eclampsia which caused me to seizure, and I hemorrhaged on the operating table.

Meanwhile, my son was born blue, he was non-responsive. Both of us nearly died that day. I had to read all of this in my and my son's medical file. Nobody ever told me what happened that day in words.

Today, my son is fourteen. He has no lasting effects from his birth issues. He is an amazing old soul. We have an incredible bond. I suffer from PTSD surrounding this event, and while I tried, words will never do justice to the emotional toll this took on me just to write it out.