If it can go wrong, will it?

For years I battled infertility and miscarriage. I know all people see is the end result and that is that I had three children. There is a backstory there.

Being a teenager sucked. Being a girl sucked even more.

From the time I was 15 I was on birth control because I had painful periods. This pain puts the pain I suffer from now to shame. When I was 17 I went to my first gynecologist. I chose a woman because I figured she would know my body better than any man, that and, I was not going to let any man down there. The doctor hurt me during my exam and told me that I was suffering from inflammation. I was given the medication doxycycline and told to take it for six months. I believed my doctor that this medication was for inflammation. Why would she give me wrong medications? Looking back now I was given an antibiotic used to treat sexually transmitted diseases, UTI's, and a whole host of other things that I did not have. Didn't matter though because I was allergic to it.

Months went by and my mother told me that I needed to see her doctor...a man. Ugh, I did not want to do that. He couldn't possibly know anything about my body. But I was told to make the appointment on my own or she would do it and make me go. So I made the appointment and I let him complete another exam. I left that first appointment with answers. One word, one diagnosis, changed it all. Endometriosis.

Less than a month later I was on the operating table having lesions removed. Back then they didn't tell you what stage the disease was in. I went in for my follow up appointment and was put back on birth control to properly control my hormones. Nine months later I was back in his office and the lesions were back, worse than before. At 18 I was told that I would never have children. We decided at that moment that we would adopt when we were ready.

I got pregnant, several times. Each time ending in miscarriage. One summer I was enjoying my 20's and started feeling tired all the time. The smell of the food at work made me sick. My period was late...again. I didn't want to read to much into it as I had been through this before. I went and took a test, it was positive. I made a doctors appointment. I got the official from the doctor before telling my husband because I didn't want to disappoint him. So I called my husband and asked him to meet me there...I was having car problems. He met me and instead of car problems I surprised him with a positive test. Surprised, happy, scared, the whole gambit of emotions. Three days later it would all change...

I started bleeding. I thought for sure I got ahead of myself and I should have waited longer to say anything. We went to the doctor and I had an ultrasound. The doctor on duty said that I was miscarrying and to go home and pass the baby. Then I was told to come in on Monday to make sure that I didn't need to have a scraping done. I went home devastated. I spent the weekend on the couch reliving the horrifying words that had been spoken. Monday came and we went to the doctor for the follow up ultrasound. It was at that appointment that we saw our child's heartbeat for the first time. I left that appointment vowing to do whatever I needed to carry this child. I refused to take anything that was not necessary. I was going to give birth naturally. I refused to do anything to jeopardize this child. Three months in I landed in the emergency room bleeding....

This would be the story for the rest of my pregnancy. I was in and out of the hospital regularly because I was bleeding and I kept going into preterm labor. One weekend my husband and his family went out of town for a birthday party for his grandma. I agreed to stay and take care of the dogs. I was not supposed to be traveling anywhere so it would be a calm night for me and the dogs, or so I thought. I had been having contractions so I took a warm shower and agreed to go into the hospital after change of shift. I had a friend who worked the unit upstairs so I knew that I would have someone close by if there were any problems. When I made that agreement I had no idea about the events that were about to transpire.

I went into the hospital for my almost weekly terbutaline shot. If the contractions stopped I would get to go home after an hour. When they didn't stop I was given another shot and told that I was going to have to stay over night for observation. I called my husband and let him know what was happening. He was prepared to drive home if needed. I felt fine. I just needed my son to wait a little longer, it was too soon. He didn't think so. At 11pm my water broke. Or as what I had said to the nurse was that I was peeing and couldn't stop (I hadn't gotten to finish lamaze). That was when chaos broke out. My husband broke the sound barrier to get home. I was in our small town hospital that was not adequately prepared to handle a 32 week old baby.

Working with dispatch the hospital tried to care flight me but because of the weather they couldn't. The next option was a fixed wing plane but the pilot refused to fly a person in active labor. Ambulance was out of the question because of the drive and elevation change. The fear was that I would deliver on the summit. So the end decision was that I was going to deliver at our hospital and UC Davis was going to send up a neonatal team to transport my child to their NICU. Eight hours in the doctor brought in the ultrasound because I wasn't progressing and my baby was showing signs of distress. He was breech. I was going to have to have a c-section to remove him or he was at risk of dying. So the operating room was set up and I was prepped for surgery. I was wheeled out of the room and taken to deliver my son, alone.

I was put on the operating table and numbed. When they cut I could feel the sensation of tugging. Outside of that I remember the birthing team flying into action when he was pulled out and didn't cry at first. I held my breath waiting for that cry, only releasing it when I heard that wail. He was taken out of the room and to the nursery to be prepared for transport. I remained in the OR to be stitched up. I do not remember leaving that room. The next thing I know I am waking up in my room and my son is still with the nursing team. Once the neonatal team arrives I get to see my son in an incubator before he is transported 100 miles away from me. My hell truly began then.

The reason for my early birth: chorioamnionitis. An infection, inflammation. Results that were never passed on to my child's medical team until I passed it on one night when I had called for a status update. Expecting to be released the next day I was becoming anxious to be with my son. That wouldn't happen. I woke up sick. I had an intestinal blockage that had gotten so bad that it was close to rupture. I would spend four more days in the hospital before being released to go stay with my son. I would spend three weeks with my best friend at her house so that I could be close to him before he was deemed able to come home.

My son would come home days before his father would leave for bootcamp. We would be a family of three for days before it would just be the two of us to navigate this new world together. We are coming on 16 years later and I wouldn't change the journey for anything. I learned that good things can come from bad beginnings and you will always come out stronger for what you endure.

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