“My body was designed for adoption.” That was a common statement I became accustomed to say any time someone asked if my husband and I wanted kids. Making a joke of it helped ease the sting of the reality that while we wanted kids of our own, we knew the odds were stacked against us. Over a decade before I even got married, I knew getting pregnant would be difficult, and that being pregnant could potentially be very dangerous to both a baby and my own life. I’ll get to my birth, but I have to first give you some background. 

Preconception Concerns

When I was seventeen, I was hospitalized for bilateral pulmonary embolisms. Part of my left lung had collapsed and I also had a large DVT clot in my left iliac vein. The culprit was my birth control pill that I had just started taking, but that was only the beginning of the doctor’s discoveries. I learned I have a genetic blood clotting disorder that causes my blood to clot when Estrogen levels increase in my body. After many body scans, they also found that I have May-Thurner Syndrome which is why I developed the DTV. As if that wasn’t enough, they also discovered (by chance during one of the body scans) that I have uterine didelphys- TWO UTERUSES! When I was released from the hospital a couple of weeks later, I was warned by all my doctors that if/when the time came to start a family, I would need a strong team of doctors monitoring me every step of the way due to all my health conditions. As a freshman in college, babies were not on my radar, so I filed it away in a ‘re-visit this at a later date’ part of my brain. 

Our Journey To and Through Pregnancy

Fast forward to 2019. My husband and I were 2.5 years into our infertility journey. We went through years of cycle tracking and negative pregnancy tests. I had multiple medical procedures including a hysterosalpingogram, and following that I went under anesthesia for a laparoscopy and hysteroscopy to try and figure out what was causing my infertility. I finally found out I was pregnant in January of 2019. I had a baby boy growing in my right uterus. My first doctor’s appointment was at 6 weeks. It was the most joyous and terrifying day of my life, because all my medical conditions came back to haunt me as the doctor re-explained to me all the risks my pregnancy carried. I knew what they were beforehand, but living it instead of just talking about it brought on a new type of fear. I still remember breaking down on the car ride home from my first ultrasound, pleading to my mom on the phone ‘What have I done? Why did I do this? My body wasn’t made for this. I am going to die giving birth!’ 

The doctor visits were intense and frequent. I had my OB, my MFM (high risk) OB, my hematologist, and my therapists. All were on board to make sure my blood stayed thin, my small uterus stayed hospitable, and baby and I were healthy both physically and mentally. Blood clots were the biggest concern due to my history. I was put on a therapeutic dose of Lovenox, which meant I gave myself injections in my belly twice a day, as well as baby aspirin. The next concern was preterm labor/birth, since my pregnant uterus was half the size of a normal one. There wasn’t much I could do to combat this, but I was advised to take it easy and not over exert myself too much. The main goal was to get to 37 weeks and have a planned induction. I would have to switch from Lovenox to heparin (a different type of blood thinner) a week before induction, because heparin can be reversed and has a much shorter half-life, meaning in an emergency situation my blood wouldn’t be thin and cause me to bleed out. I would also be able to get an epidural. This caused a great deal of anxiety my entire pregnancy. My biggest fear was that I was going to be caught with Lovenox in my system and facing an emergency c-section under general anesthesia. You cannot reverse Lovenox, and you cannot have an epidural with it since it stays in your system much longer, making it dangerous combination with any type of surgery.

While I wanted to enjoy and be grateful for my pregnancy after struggling with infertility, I was miserable. I was riddled with anxiety and the sense of impending doom. I lost 30lbs in my first trimester due to morning (more like 24/7) sickness. I had a couple bleeding scares that turned out to be from my other uterus and unrelated to the baby. My anti-depressants were barely keeping my prenatal depression at a bearable level and my anxiety was so intense I sometimes crumbled to the floor sobbing, thinking ‘these are my last months of life.’ 

Pregnancy Complications

When I was 31 weeks pregnant, my husband and I went to the movies. As I was getting comfortable in my seat, I felt a tear right under my rib cage below my right breast. It was sharp and obvious, but I didn’t think much of it, other than I may have stretched a bit too much and strained something. Over the next couple of days, the pain got worse. I called my OB, and they didn’t seem too concerned, saying it was probably a muscle tear or baby scrunched up against a rib. I could still feel baby move and felt fine otherwise, so I tried to not let my anxiety grab hold and stress me out too much. After about a week, it started to feel a bit better so I figured they were correct and I had just pulled something. Then about 10 days after that night at the movies, it got a lot worse. I was having sharp pains under my ribs on the right side when I took deep breaths. With my history of PE’s, I know to go to the hospital when you have pain breathing, so in I went. My OB wasn’t on call, so I got a random doctor I had never met before. He listened to baby, drew some blood, and then checked my cervix. Everything checked out normal. At the time, I wished he would ultrasound me to look at baby, but I didn’t say anything. I wanted to trust this doctor. Looking back on it now I regret that decision, because perhaps they could have seen a warning sign then and my birth story could have been different. I was discharged with no answers and the same amount of pain.

Three days after my ER visit, at 33 weeks, my husband and I were in Buy Buy Baby doing some shopping. I had to go to the bathroom and as I was finishing up and washing my hands, I felt something. I went back into the stall and that’s when my heart dropped and all my built-up anxiety around complications and bleeding out during birth came crashing down. There was so much blood. I panicked, wrapped up useless wads of toilet paper and shoved them in my pants and busted out of the bathroom. I saw my husband at the back of the store and screamed at him to ‘Come here now we have to leave NOW.’ Confused, he reluctantly left our shopping cart full of cute baby boy clothes and ran to me at the door. We were so frantic rushing to the car as I explained. He threw a bunch of shipping blankets he had in the back of his truck into the front seat to soak up the blood, and we sped to the hospital. We kept trying to remember the last time I felt him move- was it last night? Did my husband lay his head on my belly like most nights and hear him rolling around? Did he kick during breakfast this morning? I pressed firmly into my belly like I had so many times before but got no response. We were both terrified and I couldn’t help but think how careless I had been for not keeping better track of his movements.

I called the hospital on the way over and waddled my way upstairs to the delivery floor as fast as I could. I could feel the blood pouring out of me as I stood at the counter and the admin asked me if my address, phone, and emergency contacts were still the same. I knew she was required to ask me this, but I was panicked and so irritated so I kept saying ‘None of my information has changed since I was here three days ago! I am bleeding a lot and am on a high dose of blood thinners! I need a doctor now!’ They finally took me back and they immediately hooked me up to check on the baby. My husband arrived just in time from parking the truck to hear that beautiful sound of a strong, healthy heartbeat. A wave of relief washed over me and I felt like I could take at least one breath because I knew in that moment, my baby was still alive. 

My bleeding started to slow, so my OB felt comfortable enough to move me to another room, hooked me up to various monitors, placed a catheter, and told me to rest. They still didn’t know where the blood was coming from, but what was important was it was slowing, my stats were good, and baby seemed perfectly content. MY OB told us she wanted to try to make it to 34 weeks, because at that threshold their lungs are much more developed. To be cautious, they still gave me a steroid shot to help develop his lungs in utero. Not 5 minutes later, I decided to roll on my side and try to take a nap. Before I closed my eyes, I asked my husband to check my ‘undercarriage’ because I felt something, but wasn’t sure if it was just the catheter. I’ll never forget the look on his face. His eyes widened and met mine and he said ‘DON’T MOVE’ and ran out of the room. The team of doctors and nurses flooded the room and everyone congregated at the foot of my bed. They all looked at each other with those same wide eyes but nobody said anything. I could tell it was bad, I knew I was bleeding out again. My OB (bless her for being so calm and upbeat) finally looked at me and said ‘Let’s have a baby!’

Birthing Our Baby Under General Anesthesia 

Everything happened so quickly after that moment. Since I had Lovenox in my system, I could not receive an epidural. I had to face my worst fear and have an emergency c-section under general anesthesia, with a high dose of blood thinners in my system. As they were wheeling me away to the OR, barely giving me a chance to kiss my husband goodbye, I remember repeating to the nurses and doctors ‘B+, my blood type is B+, PLEASE make sure it they have it on standby in the OR!’ In that moment, I truly believed I was about to bleed out and die. This is the biggest trigger point in my EMDR party—truly believing you are about to die really messes you up. I was so scared and alone. My husband wasn’t allowed to be with me since I was going under anesthesia. We both have a big black hole in the memory of our child’s birth and it really rips me up that neither of us will ever be able to piece it together. I pushed on my belly, begging my boy to kick one more time. He was the only person I knew there that could comfort me in that moment. He kicked one last kick, they transferred me to the operating table, and I was knocked out. 

When I woke up from anesthesia, I remember feeling shocked to be alive and instantly started yelling for my baby. My husband tried to calm me by showing me pictures and videos he had taken of our little bean in his incubator in the NICU, safe and healthy (for a 33 weeker). The emergency c-section went well, I miraculously didn’t have any excessive bleeding, and I didn’t need a blood transfusion.  My son would be in the NICU for a couple of weeks with feeding tubes, oxygen, bili lights, etc., but was expected to be fine! I truly couldn’t believe we were both alive and going to be okay. While this is what most people like to tell me to focus on, I still can’t help but mourn all the things that I missed out on. It was so incredibly hard to feel like a mother at first – almost like I didn’t deserve the mom badge since I didn’t experience birth. I never got to experience a contraction or any type of labor. I didn’t get the excited feeling of ‘it’s time!’ – instead, sheer terror that it was all ending. I wasn’t conscious for his grand entrance into the world, I never heard his first cries (don’t even know if he did cry when taken out of me), I never got to see my husband meet our son. I didn’t get to experience the golden hour. My child was never placed on my chest. Family that rushed to the hospital when I went into surgery met my own son before I did. I didn’t get to hold him until he was 5 days old. For his entire stay in the NICU, I was only allowed to hold my baby for an hour a day, every other day. To not much surprise, my milk never came in. After a month of pumping 10 times a day, trying all the tricks and supplements and cluster pump sessions, seeing specialists and using all different shields and pipettes and tubes, I gave up trying and accepted I had a formula baby. I knew no matter how my baby was fed he was going to grow and be fine, but part of me was dying to succeed with breastfeeding so I could have just one physical connection to becoming a mother. I became a mother in the messiest, most unnatural way. I still remember when I was wheeled into the NICU on my hospital bed, shortly after waking up from my c-section, I met my son for the first time, but part of me didn’t trust it. How was I to be certain he came out of me if I didn’t witness it? It took months for me to bond to my baby, and I was miserable because all anyone ever says after you have a baby is ‘Don’t you just love it?’ ‘Isn’t it wonderful?’ ‘Was it love at first site!?’ No, how could it be, under these circumstances? 

Journey To Recovery

My son will be two next month and I am nearing the end of my EMDR therapy to help process my birth trauma. While I have been able to get in a better headspace around the trauma of that day, I still struggle so much with the grief of all that I missed out on. How unfair it is that I didn’t get to experience so much. I cry any time a baby is born on TV and placed on its mothers’ chest, and I long for the day that doesn’t happen anymore. My husband and I aren’t sure about having another baby. The physical health risks are all the same, I would most likely have another preemie and we would be looking at another NICU stay. After going through our infertility struggles, a miserable pregnancy, a traumatic birth, a traumatic NICU stay, and terrible postpartum depression, I am not sure I can handle the mental health risks again. I worry about my husband going through this all again, but with a toddler thrown into the mix. I also wonder about how I would feel if I were to have another baby and the birth go smoothly. Something I wanted to badly with my first pregnancy, but now I can’t help but think of how guilty I would feel that I didn’t get that with my son. What I do know is that I am not alone on this journey, and that is thanks to Kayleigh and this group of Trauma Mamas she has brought together. It is so therapeutic to just be able to talk about it and share my story, so thank you if you have made it this far. Sending love and healing to all you trauma mamas out there, you are really the greatest gift to your kids, family and this earth <3 

About The Author

Hi! I’m Jenny. I am originally from a suburb of Boston, MA but now live in Kentucky with my husband and son. We have a small hobby farm with horses, miniature donkeys, dogs, cats, and chickens! My hobbies are my family, my animals, and riding horses, along with some wine and cheese 😊