This story...
...is one full of hope...
desperation...
confusion...
tears...
exhaustion...
joy...
immeasurable perseverance...
resilience...
strength...
determination...
happiness.
I never truly knew how strong I was until being strong was the only option I had...
In 2015, my husband and I were given the most amazing news we could have ever hoped and prayed to received: we were expecting! It was an exciting yet extremely scary time. Neither one of us knew how my body would handle pregnancy, but both of us were willing to travel through this miracle with our eyes wide open.
In May 2015, we found out we were expecting a little boy.
The movements I felt throughout my pregnancy were feelings I could never explain. Every single time my little boy would kick, I'd smile and start singing to him. It was such a beautiful feeling. I can remember my husband's hands on my stomach trying to feel our son kick. To this day, I'll never forget the look in his eyes when he finally felt a kick.
However, just over three weeks after our gender reveal party, I started to have cramps in my lower abdomen. It was strange, really. It felt as though baby boy was kicking my cervix and rear. It was one of the most incredibly strange feelings I had felt during my entire pregnancy. In the beginning, I thought that it was just part of being pregnant and that this little boy just wanted to play.
The "kicking" started Saturday, June 6th...
The kicking turned into cramping, and the cramping became more severe on Sunday, June 7th, but I still told myself that it was a normal pregnancy thing. I was convinced that since I had just entered into my third trimester that my body was preparing for what was to come.
My husband and I were going through our normal routine, and while sitting down to eat dinner, I clearly remember not being able to sit still because of the fierce kicking and moving. No matter how I positioned myself, I hurt. I really had not idea what was happening. However, I could still feel my beautiful baby move. In fact, on Friday, June 5th, I had an ultrasound which showed a very healthy little boy. All of the vitals that were taken from me during that appointment were perfect. I was healthy, and there were no issues.
In the blink of an eye, it's amazing how something can change...
On Monday, June 8th, I texted my boss to tell him that I needed to stay in bed.
That something just wasn't right...
Monday, June 8, 6:52 AM
"Hey, Jason, I need to use PTO today. Something has been going on with me since yesterday morning and it got worse overnight. I need to be able to just lay in bed today and not move. Is this okay?"
I stayed in bed all morning. The cramping became worse. I was curled up into the fetal position literally writhing in pain.
Was I tired?
Was this stress?
Oh, my God...is something wrong with the baby?
I called my doctor's office around 11AM because the cramping was bad enough that it was taking my breath away, and I was experiencing brown discharge. The office told me that I was merely having "old blood" showing because the baby was kicking my cervix. I was told to go to the ER if the discharge became bright red.
Sigh of relief, I suppose.
Around 2:00 PM the cramping was absolutely horrendous. I was sweating. I was shaking. Something was wrong.
It was around this time that I thought I had wet the bed. I managed to get out of bed, and started walking to the bathroom.
Was this my MS?
When I finally arrived into the bathroom, what I saw in the mirror was terrifying. My skin had turned almost gray, and I was covered in sweat.
This was the last time I would feel my son kick...
What I thought was me wetting the bed was actually my water breaking. When I looked down, blood was running down my legs and had pooled at my feet. I called my husband. I remember telling him that he needed to come home because something was wrong. I needed to go to the hospital. I called my brother. I called my dad.
Would this be the last time that they would hear my voice?
After the phone calls, I told myself that if I took a shower, I would feel better. Surely warm water would help ease the cramping. While I was in the shower, I started feeling faint. I turned off the water, and tried as hard as I could to walk out of the shower.
I cannot die in the shower...
My husband told me that when he got home, he found me on the floor next to the shower in a pool of blood - in and out of consciousness. However, I do still remember when my husband got home - I was relieved and so very terrified at the same time. From what he told me, he managed to make it to our house in seven minutes from his job (a typical half hour drive). Had he not gotten there as soon as he did, my son and I would have died.
I managed to stand up to slip on a pair of yoga pants and a t-shirt (a t-shirt which said "hope through courage"... it's amazing how accurate that t-shirt would become). The pain was unbearable. I was screaming. Bleeding profusely.
Trying to get in my husband's truck was horrible. When he got me to the passenger door, I flung my body over the seat and just screamed. I truly thought I was dying. I wanted nothing more than to feel my son kick; to feel that connection. However, there was nothing.
God, just save my son.
My husband has told me that on the way to the hospital, I was in and out of consciousness. I remember arriving to the hospital and throwing myself against the truck passenger window and screaming. I remember the look on the nurse's face from the inside of the hospital as she saw me. Our eyes met, and she ran from the inside of the hospital out to the truck. I fell out of the truck, and she and my husband got me into a wheelchair, and I was rushed back to the women's center (WC).
The screaming.
The sweat.
The crying.
The cursing.
The blood.
Once inside the WC, I was rushed into a room and was immediately undressed so internal examinations could start. Upon the first internal check, the nurse told me, "Honey, you're having a baby."
It was too soon.
I was screaming no. I closed my eyes, and felt my husband's hand on my foot then my leg then my hand. I kept telling him over and over how sorry I was. I told him that it would be okay, but in the back of my mind, I didn't think it would be.
Crying and screaming, I heard the nurse tell another nurse, "The baby has fallen through the cervix."
I closed my eyes, and when I opened them, I saw my doctor. My God...the man who would, ultimately, prove to be my angel. I reached out to him, and said, "Dr. Breed, please help me. Please help the baby. Please!"
It was around this time that my husband was told that it was uncertain if either myself or our son would make it out of surgery. There was a 10% chance of survival for both of us due to the severity of what was happening and the amount of blood I had already lost.
I was rushed back to the operating room away from my husband. Would this be the last time that he would see me alive? I wanted nothing more than to have him next to me, but he wasn't allowed in the OR. All I could do was close my eyes, and picture his amazing face.
I don't remember much about the OR other than being told not to push, having my legs tied together, and being reminded to breathe. I do, however, remember the face of the nurse. I remember her continually wiping away my tears and telling me that I would be okay. I remember her saying that I wasn't going anywhere and that I would meet my son soon. I remember how cold her hands were. I remember a tear falling from her eye...
I remember the anesthesiologist. I remember his face when he saw me - the look of panic and despair. From what I understand, I was covered in blood, I had no color, I had dark rings around my eyes, and my breathing was shallow.
I remember the doctor that the team was waiting for to help birth my child. When he arrived, I heard him and my doctor speaking. He had told Dr. Breed that they needed to hurry up so they could save the baby before I was gone. Dr. Breed screamed at him, "No! They are BOTH getting out of this!"
Then darkness...
Silence...
No pain...
At 3:47 PM on June 8th, 2015, Caleb Elijah Curry was born.
1 pound 15 ounces
12 3/4 inches long
Caleb was being held in a plastic covering (to keep him warm) with another nurse bagging him to help him breathe. This was when Chris was able to cut the cord.
My husband finally saw me in the first recovery room. I was weak due to blood loss, but I was alive. At 25 weeks 4 days gestation in a completely healthy and normal pregnancy (MS aside), I had suffered from a severe placental abruption.
A placental abruption is "an uncommon yet serious complication of pregnancy...[where] the placenta peels away from the inner wall of the uterus - either partially or completely. A placental abruption can deprive the baby of oxygen and nutrients and cause heavy bleeding in the mother. [It] can happen suddenly [and if] left untreated...puts both mother and baby in jeopardy" (para. 1-2).
Because the abruption was caught in time, I did not have to have a blood transfusion. However, it took over a month for my iron levels to reach the point where my doctor was able to breathe a sigh of relief.
My stay in the hospital is something I do not remember much of. I do remember that my brother was there when Chris was going back and forth between the hospital I was staying at and the hospital Caleb was staying at. My father and his girlfriend were also there. I remember seeing my sister-in-law while I was at the hospital, as well. However, any conversations while they were there are completely gone from my memory. In fact, almost every part of my hospital experience is completely wiped from my recollection.
However, the only memory I have of my hospital stay is when Chris was able to get a video conference scheduled for me so I could finally see Caleb. The staff within the hospital Caleb was in worked with the staff within the hospital I was staying in to allow me to see him. It was, quite possibly, one of the most amazing moments I can remember.
That evening, however, my husband took me to the hospital to finally meet Caleb. This was the first time I was able to touch him and see him face-to-face. This is the moment that my life completely changed. With tears streaming down my face, my eyes finally caught a glimpse of my beautiful baby boy.
I saw him breathing.
He was there...right in front of me, and, my God, he was so beautiful.
98 days...
For 98 days, my husband and I had to leave our son behind when we went home in the evenings.
For 98 days, every time the phone range, our hearts sank, and we panicked.
For 98 days, we were empty shells of who we once were.
For 98 days, we held on to every ounce of strength and hope we had to remain strong for our son.
With each passing day, there were highs and lows because the NICU is one huge roller coaster ride of uncertainty. However, what we saw were complete strangers who loved our son as much as we did. These individuals saved our son's life. They watched him fight to breathe...fight to thrive...fight to live. They saved his life and at the same time, allowed Chris and I to cry and worry but always managed to give us hope and strength. With each passing day, we watched our beautiful son go from being fragile to overcoming odds most do not experience in an entire life.
No matter the circumstances we go through, no matter the trials we face, we must always remember that we are brave, we are strong, and we are courageous. When we want to give up, we must remember that we can still keep going. Through it all, we are given this life to fight for what we want.
Caleb, a beautiful and tiny miracle, fought to be where he is today - a beautiful, healthy, very happy one year old fighter.
Caleb...
My hope.
My strength.
My miracle.
My hero...
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