Chapter 39
Devyn
Sighing, I pressed a hand to my stomach. I smiled as my son kicked at it. It’d been a month since my first hospital stay due to blood pressure and there’d been two more since then, though they’d been shorter.
My blood pressure was still causing me issues, but I was determined to make it to thirty weeks.
Dr. Natalie had assured me that at thirty weeks my son would be healthy and strong and if I needed to have him early that was an acceptable time to do so.
That thirty-week mark was still two and a half months early, but it was better than the twenty-four weeks when I’d first been hospitalized.
I just wanted what was best for my baby.
I was exactly twenty-eight weeks today and I was sitting with my mom in the hospital room. I’d been admitted last night. They were doing a twenty-four-hour urine catch on me. Nothing better than having to collect your urine and pour it in a little container for twenty-four hours. Bleh.
Thankfully, the nurses were used to this kind of thing.
I’d done this twice already and they were doing it to keep an eye on the protein in my pee.
Apparently, if it got too high, that meant the pre-eclampsia, that had started showing up after my first hospital stay, was getting worse.
If it got too bad, then they were going to have to do something about it.
That something would be an emergency C-section.
Dr. Natalie had explained that the pre-eclampsia was happening because of my placenta.
And the only way to make it stop, was to deliver the placenta.
But we were still trying to keep my son inside my body for as long as possible.
It was a delicate balance. Every day that he spent inside the womb was that much better for him.
We wanted to give him enough time to grow, without putting me in too much danger. So we’d just been managing the symptoms, which so far had just been that darn blood pressure.
I looked up as the nurse walked in. Bolo had run home to grab more clothes and take a shower since my mom was here visiting. Each time we ended up in the hospital he was here with me. He didn’t like to leave, but I’d insisted he go take an hour or two to himself. That I’d be fine here with my mom.
The nurse came in. “Okay, so Dr. Natalie said your protein is rising, so the train is coming down the tracks, but it’s not here yet.” The nurse looked up from the chart. “Her words, not mine. But she said if your blood pressure goes down again then you can go home. You know the drill.”
“I do,” I told her with a smile. We’d been through this enough now that I wasn’t quite as worried as I had been the first time.
We’d get my blood pressure down, then I’d go home and hopefully I’d get a couple more weeks before I ended up here again.
Whatever I needed to do to get to that thirty weeks, or even beyond.
* * *
The next morning, Bolo walked me out to the SUV.
My BP was stable again and had held all night.
Dr. Natalie was having me come back in twenty-four hours to double check that protein in my urine again.
She wanted to get a pattern on it but didn’t want me to stay in the hospital just for that.
I needed to do the catch at home, and bring it in to her.
Then she’d check me over while the lab ran their tests. No biggie.
I was wrong. It ended up being a big deal. I woke up the next day feeling awful. I had a headache, one of those warning signs of pre-eclampsia they always asked about, and it was like I’d been hit by a bus.
Bolo watched me with worried eyes as I dragged myself into the SUV and then into the hospital for my appointment. I was feeling entirely too awful to be surprised when the nurse took my blood pressure and it came back at one-ninety over one hundred and ten.
We’d just learned to bring bags of clothes, blankets, and things to do with us, so Bolo went out to the car to grab all that while they checked me into a room. I settled in the recliner—I still hated those beds—resigning myself to a night of blood pressure checks and fetal monitoring.
You could have knocked me over with a feather when Dr. Natalie came into my room that night and told me that she needed to put me on a magnesium drip.
It was something they apparently put you on when your blood pressure was out of control and they were having trouble keeping it down so that you didn’t end up having a seizure.
She explained everything about it. They would have to monitor everything while I was on it. My heartbeat. The baby’s heartbeat. My blood pressure. How much fluid I was drinking and voiding. Everything. They were going to watch me like a hawk to make sure I was doing okay.
No one was able to accurately explain to me the side effects of it. I mean, they tried. They told me what to expect. Reality was a whole different ballgame. No wonder they kept such a close eye on women who had to go on this stuff. It was the devil.
Within an hour, I felt like the living dead.
My brain was foggy, I was exhausted, and it was like I had the worst case of the flu I’d ever experienced.
Not so much the puking, but just that overall feeling of being unwell.
My limbs were heavy and I couldn’t concentrate.
I kept falling asleep, and then Bolo would wake me up because my oxygen monitor said I wasn’t breathing enough and would alert.
“Dev. Breath.”
I sucked in a deep breath, then drifted back off to sleep.
I had no idea what time it was, though it was dark in the room so I knew it was late.
I didn’t know if Bolo was sleeping at all or if he was staying up and keeping an eye out for me, but he was there each time the beeping started to remind me to breathe. I had no idea how much time had passed.
* * *
The next morning my entire world changed, starting with a nurse waking me up with an exam.
I’d gotten used to her waking me for her exams through the night.
But this time it was different. She was asking me more questions.
And she looked different. Worried. It was never good when the nurses looked worried because they almost never did.
Today I was twenty-eight weeks and two days pregnant and my nurse gave me a worried look as she told me that I had diminished lung sounds.
“What does that mean?” I asked as I sat up in my hospital bed.
It was hard for me to understand what was going on because I was still on the mag drip.
I felt chewed up, spit out, and what was left over was only a speck of myself.
I really wasn’t able to be positive or cheerful while dealing with that medication.
I wanted to be off it, but it would keep me from seizing.
Maybe it would keep me from dying. Apparently, my pre-eclampsia was bad enough now, in two short days, that these things were something to be worried about.
How could this happen so quickly?
It was a question I didn’t have an answer to, but it was happening to me. I’d gone from thinking I’d get through this then hang out at home for a couple more weeks before hitting that thirty-week mark and be in the clear. The look in my nurse’s eyes was telling me I was far from in the clear.
Fear clogged my throat as I listened to my nurse explain.
“It means there’s fluid around your lungs.”
I looked over at Bolo, unable to speak.
“Does that mean we’re having the baby?” he asked for me.
“The MFM—Maternal Fetal Medicine—doctor gets to make the decision on whether a baby is born,” she explained gently. “The on-call OB is talking to them now.”
“Who’s on call?” I managed to squeak out. The relief was profound when she said Dr. Natalie’s name. Not that the other doctors who worked with her weren’t great. I’d gotten to meet most of them now with how often I’d been here, but I was glad she’d be the one here with me today. “So what do we do?”
“We’ll wait for Dr. Natalie to let us know,” the nurse replied. “Let me know if you need anything in the meantime.”
Bolo came over, squeezed his huge frame onto the bed where I was laying and wrapped me up in his arms. We waited like that until the next knock on the door came. It didn’t take long.
“I’m sorry,” Dr. Natalie said as she came in.
She gave us a weak smile. “We need to deliver your baby today. We’re worried there’s fluid building in your lungs, so I’ve ordered a chest x-ray before the delivery.
And your numbers are showing that your heart is working too hard,” she continued.
“Not to mention your kidneys. The MFM agrees, it’s time. ”
“It’s too soon.” Both Bolo and Dr. Natalie stared at me.
Thirty weeks would give my baby the best odds.
But I didn’t speak the remaining words out loud because this wasn’t just about me.
If I could hold out two more weeks and give him a better chance, I would.
But if my body gave out, it gave out on both of us.
Then Bolo would be left with neither of us.
I wouldn’t do that to him. Or to my baby. I trusted Dr. Natalie. She was doing what was right for both of us, and I was choosing to believe everything would be okay. “Sorry. I’m just worried about my son.”
“We’ll do everything we can. Twenty-eight weeks isn’t so bad,” she told me with an encouraging smile.
“I thought thirty was the line?” I asked.
She shrugged. “Twenty-eight is still good. Way better than when you first came in. Everything will be okay.”
I nodded, sucking in a breath, and leaned back into Bolo’s protective embrace. “Then let’s do it.” As if I had any choice in the matter.
She pretty much confirmed that with her next words. “Good. This is happening within the hour.”
It took a bit longer thanks to some additional tests to make sure my body was ready. But it was. It was telling us that this needed to happen soon. Today.
Worry hung over Bolo like a worn cloak, but he did his best not to show it. I tried, too. We were trying to be each other’s rocks and both of us were terrified of losing the little life we’d created. He had an extra worry. He could lose me, too.
Most of the effects of pre-eclampsia dissipate with delivery of the placenta.
I remembered that from before. That organ, that was supposed to supplement and care for your baby while they were inside of you, was the cause of all of this.
It had failed and now it needed to come out. But things could always go wrong.
Bolo was a fortress. We weren’t talking much because we were both scared and staying quiet seemed to help. But we listened as the anesthesiologist came in and explained what would happen.
“Do you have any questions?” the anesthesiologist asked.
He was really nice. Every time he spoke, he repeated his name and told me he was here with us.
It might have seemed weird, but between the effects of the mag drip, how shitty I was feeling thanks to my body working overtime, and the quickness with which everything was happening, I was glad I didn’t have to remember something as trivial as his name.
And him reminding me he was here with me, every step of the way, really was reassuring.
“No, I don’t have any question,” I told him with a small smile. “I’m ready.”
“Good,” he said, patting my hand. “We’ll wheel you into the operating room in your bed. You don’t need to walk.” I’d been starting to sit up so I could get out of bed. I laid back again. “I’ll be back in a few minutes and we’ll get you over to the OR.”
“Okay.”
The nurses took over from there and explained that Bolo would need to wait in the hall outside the OR while they prepped me for the operation.
He was solid and strong, letting the information flow over him like waves over rocks.
He wasn’t budging. He answered their questions as they came.
Yes, he wanted to be there during the operation.
Yes, he wanted to go with the baby once he was born—we’d discussed that beforehand, I’d have doctors, nurses, and my mother waiting there for me on the other side.
I wanted him to be there for our boy so he wasn’t alone.
Our son had his own struggles coming and he needed someone there with him.
Our sweet son would never be alone, ever. Not with a father like Bolo. He’d have him no matter what, and more uncles than he could count thanks to the MC. Nothing would stand between Bolo and our son. There may be things my incredible biker couldn’t stop, but our son would never face them alone.
I was feeling incredibly introspective right now. Probably because this was the most terrifying thing I’d ever done. I’d gone into burning buildings and saved lives. Yet I’d never been this scared. It was because the fear wasn’t for myself. It was for my baby. For Bolo. For my family.
I could only hope we both made it out of this surgery.
They did these surgeries every day, and usually they weren’t so urgent.
But thanks to my heart and kidneys being affected they weren’t sure how I was going to do.
I had to put all my trust in the medical staff here, and there was nothing I could do to help.
I was sure Bolo was feeling even more helpless than I was.