Chapter 5: The Time Bomb Goes Off

I usually go past term with my pregnancies. I don’t efface weeks before like most women do. But this pregnancy was different. I told my doctor exactly when my baby would be born. At my last appointment he told me it would be a least a week more, maybe two. “No”, I said, “this baby will be here on Friday”. He just smiled. We were both wrong.

Thursdays have always been the day catastrophes pick to land on me. They aren’t bad days. But when bad things happen, they always happen on Thursday. The tragedy awaiting us was no different. The day before my baby was to arrive I woke up about 6 am. The baby was awake too. I rolled over, rubbed my tummy, and whispered that it would be very soon before we would finally get to meet each other. We drifted back to sleep. It was the last pleasant sleep I’ve ever had.

An hour later I woke up. Something was strange. I didn’t know what. I reached down between my legs and brought my hand back up to my face. It was covered with blood. Thick with blood! I got up and flew to the bathroom dripping blood all the way. The only thing that went through my head was “this isn’t good”. I yelled for my teenage son Dennis to phone the doctor and bring me the phone. The telephone list had been pasted on the cupboard next to the phone for weeks. But it still seemed like an eternity sitting there in the bathroom waiting for him to bring me the phone. The bleeding had stopped. A small amount of amniotic fluid dripped into the toilet. The baby turned sideways in my womb. I put my hands on him and wondered if this would be the last time I ever felt him move.

Finally the phone! Dennis had called the midwife first. She was getting dressed and on her way. The doctor was on the phone now, instructing me to go right away to St. Mary’s Hospital. No, there were no contractions; no, there was no pain at all; yes, physically I felt fine, but shook up; would I be able to come back home to have the baby? No way. I was high risk now and possibly had placenta previa. They wanted to put me on monitors and do an ultrasound first thing. He would meet me at the hospital. I was to go in through emergency.

I didn’t wait in emergency. They immediately took me up to the maternity ward and hooked me up to monitors. He was alive. I knew he would be. Something went wrong, would they find it? I had no hopes at all that they would but was absolutely certain, serious though this was, that all would be fine. I felt fine after all. I knew that they could get a baby out as fast as 6 minutes if they had to, but I really didn’t think that would be necessary. Everyone suspected placenta previa. I felt fine. The bleeding had stopped. My blood pressure was fine. All would be fine. The resident on call discussed getting the ultrasound done and left the room arrange it. Meanwhile my midwife was watching the monitors. She didn’t like what she was seeing. Yes, the baby’s heartbeat was 130. Then it wasn’t. Experience with all my other hospital deliveries told me not to trust the monitor. All too often as soon as they’d adjust the monitor leads, they’d find the heartbeat normal. With my other babies the monitors had only served to make me more nervous as someone was always there watching to tell me when the next contraction was coming. Not this time. This time there was fear on the midwife’s face. She started ringing for the nurse then ran into the hall calling for the resident. My doctor arrived as the surgeon on call and the ultrasound technician came into the room. They were taking the baby NOW. IVs were being started. They did the ultrasound anyway. I remember the technician saying “I’m not finding anything,” then my bed flying down the hall. I couldn’t see. Perhaps I didn’t want to. The anesthist stood my my head strapping my arms down on little tables that came out at 90 degree angles from the bed. I felt as though I was going to fall off they had it tilted so badly. Someone told me that was to help the baby. I couldn’t figure out what was taking so long! I thought they could take a baby quickly. I was so scared. I rolled my head from side to side blind to all the lights and commotion and muttered over and over “I’m so scared, I’m so scared”. And I waited. There! I felt it. The anesthetic. This is it, this is it. Oh blessed anesthetic. I took a deep breath as I did when I was 8 years old and they were taking my tonsils out. Only there was no gas this time, just IVs. God get me and my baby through this.