Thursday, July 30, 2009


It hit me today... during my pregnancy with Ellie I was already on bedrest at this point. Full of the knowledge that something was seriously wrong with my little girl but no answers on how to fix it.

(sorry... I'm sure you've all read previous versions of this story every time I dredge it up...but it's my blog and I'll rehash it again if I feel like making myself miserabel for a few minutes...)

My PE saga didn't start with elevated BP's or protein in my urine. It started with a simple routine ultrasound where we saw my sweet little girl who just a few weeks before was perfect in everyway (the Dr's words - not even mine) with virtually no fluid to protect her from being sqaushed by my body. At that appointment I was told by the ultrasound technician, not even a Dr. that I must have done something to cause my water to break and would likely get an infection and the baby would die in the next few days. (horrible care, I know...) I knew my water hadn't broken...I would have noticed that - but somehow no one wanted to hear what I had to say. I was in to much shock to even think about anything. The Dr didn't even come in to see me that day. Just told the nurse to send me home and tell I should drink lots of water. They did make me an appointment for the following Monday to see my now beloved MFM - Dr. J.

I saw Dr. J at a satellite clinic in the town where I live the following Monday. Ellie was still hanging in there but the fluid levels had dropped even further. As of this point there was no measurable amniotic fluid protecting Ellie. Dr. J was convinced that there was a problem with her kidneys - but they spent at least 2 hours studying them on the ultrasound and could not find a single thing wrong with her kidneys - or anything else. She was still perfect - but somehow I was not.

Ugh... I can't go any further today. Just reliving all of that is hard enough. But that was then and this is now...

Ellie would be 18 months old already... walking around, starting to talk, playing in the pool...daydreaming is a dangerous thing for all of us isn't it...


Bluebird said...

I somehow missed this part of the story. That is tragic. Absolutely tragic. And inexcusable. And it makes me sick to my stomach. Do you happen to get on the Preeclampsia Foundation forums? Their video shows the story of the director, and it is 100% clear that her baby would have lived but for the doctors not recognizing what was wrong. I think it takes *such* a big person to get past that. I don't know if I could.

As angry as I am about losing our babies, I know that there were no signs or anything that the doctors could have caught earlier. Well, maybe one or two minor things, but who suspects pre-e at 14 weeks of pregnancy? Regardless, it wouldn't have saved our babies. And, to be honest, I credit the fast-acting of my OB (who called in the MFM) with saving *my* life. I try to remember to be thankful for that. . .

Sorry to make this comment about me :) It's just . . . so incredible that crap like this happens. And when I don't know what to say I ramble :)

Mrs. Spit said...

Oh Donna, this disease is just hell, isn't it? The toll is so high, and it makes me so angry.

Michele said...

It is hard to look back but I think it helps us when we remember too.

It hurts me to read about doctors who dont pick up on warning signs or who just assume it is something else. That really kills me. I want to yell "someone's baby's life is at stake! be sure!"

Ellie is watching over her sibling and she is happy that you have come this far. I know I often feel guilty about being "farther along" than I was with our babies. I try to remember that they love their siblings and want them to have the world, too. That makes it easier.

Sending you big hugs. Huge hugs.

Heather said...

Pre-e is an awful, awful thing.

I can't believe that's how you were treated initially. That's just horrible. And to send you home????? Unthinkable.

SO glad things are going better this time, although I know how bittersweet that is.

Lia said...

It's hard for me to know what to say to you. So I am going to try and write from my heart, in the hope that it helps you.
I have only just found your blog and am slowly working my way through it.But what I have read could so easily be my story.

I'm 46 now and have 3 wonderful grown and healthy kids 24, 21 and 17.
However before I got them I lost 3 baby girls. I won't go into details; as at the end of the day this is your story and not mine.
I rarely talk about my girls, outside of the family, although my children do know about their sisters.

The pain does eventually shift, I won't pretend to tell you that it goes, as I really don't think the old cliche that time is a healer is correct, and is in my opinion a load of rubbish. However what time does do is teach you how to deal with your pain and loss.

My first daughter was born on 5th March 1981 and would have been 28 this last March, I expect she would have given me Grandchildren by now, but we will never know. There isn't a day I don't think about my girls, but I no longer yearn for them to the extent that I once did. I now know that had they all survived, then I doubt that my only daughter and my youngest son would have been born, I know now that I would have stopped having children and there fore these wonderful, bright and beautiful shinning lights would not have come into my life, and oh boy babes, when I say I wouldn't have missed them 2 for the whole world,I do seriously mean it. It has been a blast to be their mother, a complete and utter honour, that still goes on to this day.
I do not want you to think that I am dismissing your feelings for Ellie, I just wanted you to know that I see things so differently now that I am so much further down this lonely road of loss and I can't help but think and feel as though my children have their lost sisters watching over them. Each one of my surviving children has at some point had a serious illness and I have asked my girls to watch over them and keep them safe and each child has pulled through, much to the surprise of their doctors. Each year on their birthdays I light a candle for my girls to let them know that they are still very much loved, my kids have grown up with this and except it as the norm, they are great about it, I do tend to be a bit quieter on their days and my kids give me hugs and let me know that they care. I also have 3 maple trees in pots that I planted for my girls, they are sort of over sized bonsai trees and I have 3 tiny glass angels that I hang at the top of my tree each Christmas, just to let the girls know that I still care and to let the world know that they are not forgotten.

I guess what I am trying to say is that you will over the period of your life find your own unique and special way of dealing with your loss, but you will never forget Ellie.
much love to you, if you ever need to talk, just come and find me babe, I will be there for you.
Lia xx

Funsize said...

It's hard not to daydream. It's torture to do so, but we don't have our babies to actually see our dreams to fruition. Recalling the memories we do have, as painful as they are, is all we can do because it's the only thing we have of our babies now.

sending you lots of love.