The Night She was Born (The untold Story)

I recently realized after the chaos that ensued this past nine months, I had never shared with you all what happened the night everything changed and we had to deliver our precious Marlo, much too soon.

So here goes.

To go back and recap a little of what landed us in this position to begin with will remind you all of just how far we had come.

When we found out we were expecting twins we were thrilled!  Quickly the pregnancy became one of fear and long days of bed rest that left me unable to care for my family.  My family stepped up to the plate and kept the household in forward motion.  It was hard for me, but necessary, so I gave in and let it be what it needed to be.

Things appeared to be progressing well and I was monitored frequently to be certain both babies were growing and Mama was healthy.  We felt good about making it to the half way mark, a huge relief had settled on our household and I was up and able to move around without fear of miscarriage.  At our 21 week appointment however, everything changed.  We knew we were expecting two little girls:  Baby A,(Claire) was the bigger baby,  and Baby B (Marlo) was just a few days behind her sister in growth.  This ultrasound would reveal something that left us with many scary and unanswered questions.  Suddenly our little Claires growth was showing she was behind by nearly 2 weeks.  They speculated a problem with where the umbilical cord  was inserted to the placenta, causing low blood and oxygen flow to the baby.  The Doctor would not tell us what to expect, and made light of what the ultrasound was showing asking us to come back for a repeat ultrasound in 4 weeks.

I was scared, and angry at the Doctors reaction...and did not want to wait to find out what was going wrong with our baby.  I decided it was time to seek a second opinion.  

At 23 weeks we were seen by a specialist a friend recommended.  He was wonderful, as she said he would be, but had to deliver the news to us that our precious girl's heart had stopped beating.  Little Claire didn't make it.  We were devastated and in a state of shock, not sure what to prepare for or how to move forward.  It was one year to the date we had admitted Johnny to the hospital.  The same week he was born, and the same week we learned he would not make it.  Our hearts sunk, and we felt defeated. 

We would return home to share the news of losing Claire to the kids, and our families....Disbelief and Sorrow, but at the same time, so much hope and prayer that our sweet little Marlo would have more time to grow and thrive inside of me...We didn't know what would come next.

Time away was planned long in advance of all this.  We had prepared a trip up to the mountains of Southern California to get away from it all and make new memories in celebration of little John Carter's life and not focus on his death.  It was a time away of healing for us all, and another wedding anniversary celebrated family style with the most important people in our lives.  Our kids.  Unfortunately though, the vacation was cut short as we raced down the mountain to get to the hospital.

I was in Labor.

25 weeks, and in labor.  I was admitted, steroids were were given to mature Marlo's lungs and organs, and injections and pills of labor inhibiting meds were being pumped into me as they learned what we had come to find out about our sweet little Claire.  She was gone, but her spunky sister was still alive and well as she kicked and batted at the ultrasound wand as it glided over my belly.

The goal was obvious.  Keep Marlo inside of me so she could grow and get stronger as long as possible.  There were two problems at hand:  The loss of her sister made my body think I needed to deliver her, so stopping labor was a concern... but of even greater importance was the risk of infection, that could quickly take her life.

We did all we could do for as long as we could, but eventually I had to deliver Claire.  The risk of then going into full on labor and delivering Marlo was high.  One week after being admitted, and 26 weeks pregnant I was faced with the uncertainty of a sad delivery and what would happen next.  We held our little precious, and perfectly formed daughter after it was all over and marveled at just how perfect and beautiful she was.  With heavy hearts we let the nurse take her away and prepared for what was next.  Because the girls placentas were fused, Claires could not be delivered making it nearly impossible to fight off infection from the delivery.  I was put in strange positions and had so many antibiotics and anti labor meds flowing through my body I could literally taste them.

There was no sign of infection, and we were counting the days as they went by...on day 3 the headaches started.  I couldn't fight them, and nothing I took would touch them, they progressively worsened.  On day 5 I was miserable, and told the doctors I thought something wasn't right.  I asked them to monitor the baby more than they were as she wasn't her spunky little self.  Things seemed to be fine, but an infection was brewing deep inside of me, and my body wasn't showing the typical signs they look for.  I could feel it, but I didn't have a fever and that was what they were waiting for.  Finally that evening when taking my temperature it was 98.9...I know that isn't high, but I run at 97.2 most of the time.  I brought it to the nurses attention as she looked through my chart.  They wanted it to be 100.1 before they made any decisions about what to do next, but an hour later as my temp crept up a little more to 99.5 I begged them to do something.

I had sent Jake to spend an evening at a baseball game with the family, telling him earlier in the day that I thought I was fine.  Unfortunately the plans had changed yet again.  I needed him and he got to me fast...during rush hour...in Southern Cali!

It was decided by the time he got there, it was time to get delivered.  Fear gripped us both as we faced yet again the unknown of what was to become of a tiny baby's life that was so loved and wanted.  Her chances each day that she was able to stay inside of me went up a significant amount, enough that in the 2 weeks since I had initially gone into labor the chance of survival went from 50 to 80%.   That was huge, but still left a 20% margin that took our breath away, not to mention the other issues that could arise from just being a premature baby, from surgeries to major development delays.

It was a horrible night.  We were more fearful than we knew one could ever be.  After all the experiences of the past year had ripped the rug from under our feet and proved that life isn't as easy and safe as we thought it once was.  Life was precious and so very fragile.  We didn't sleep and while I was going into labor all on my own and didn't need as much help as they expected, it lingered and lasted much longer than we thought necessary since we were in a race against time to beat the infection.

Why they made me completely dilate to 10, I will never understand, but when I told them it was time and they didn't believe me I was more angry and scared than I had ever been before.  The life of my tiny, tiny one depended on them at this point and they weren't ready.  The NICU team wasn't in the room, as my daughter shot out of me like a rocket...They weren't ready for her, and she was so small, and in need of their care.

Note from Daddy:   I was quick to action and take credit for the successful delivery of Little Miss Marlo since I was the only one in the right place at the right time, and I gave a quick call to action for the doctors and nurses as I yelled for some help.

I didn't know if she was alive.  I didn't know if she tried to breathe.  The room was silent.  My husband had so much fear on his face that I couldn't read what was really going on.  My mother in law stood in silent disbelief as to what she just witnessed.  All I could see was the looks on their faces, no one said a word.  As the NICU team ran in and then ran out with my baby, I laid in the delivery bed unsure of what to feel.  Tears streamed down my face as I feared the worst, and we waited for what seemed like ages before we had any news.

Finally, one of the nurses that had cared for me in the Antepartum unit ran in the room and told us she was alive, and she was stable.  We looked at each other with so much fear in our eyes but with hope that our sweet little girl would be okay.  She was stable enough that Jake could go and see her for the first time. Knowing that while we still had the fight of our lives ahead of us, she was alive, and that was all that mattered right then.

At 26 weeks and 5 days our little 1lb 11oz miracle was born.  God did a big thing.  She left the hospital 17 weeks and 2 days later, WITHOUT one single surgery.  She is amazing, She is more than we could have hoped for.  She is our sunshine after torrential rain, and the blue sky amidst the storms.  We are so thankful and we give all glory to God for this miracle.

Marlo was born without having infection..  That was the start of big miracles left and right.  The biggest of all that she now sits on my lap teething on my chin.  :)  I couldn't be more full of joy than I am right now.

Little Marlo Joy, how we love you.