TRIGGER WARNING!!!: this post talks about a traumatic birthing experience.

Please know that my experience was a VERY RARE occurrence and the chances of this happening to you are very low.

I have anxiety issues myself, so I would hate to cause someone else to panic. I haven’t really talked about this with anyone but my family, and I just really need to get it out.

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I had a normal, healthy pregnancy. Everything was going smoothly until it wasn’t. Looking back now, I should’ve seen the signs and better advocated for myself with my doctors. But hindsight is 20/20.

I’ve suffered from GERD for about 12 years now, so when I had bad acid reflux while pregnant I just thought it was a combo of my previous history and being pregnant. Once I hit my third trimester though, it was unbearable. Zantac twice a day didn’t help. Tums worked for 10 minutes. I was sleeping sitting up and leaning to the left. I was miserable, but my doctors said it was normal.

Around 32 weeks, I was losing my appetite. I wasn’t eating nearly enough. And when I did feel like eating, it was never healthy food cravings. But my thoughts were “at least I’m eating.” Again, doctors said this was normal - the baby was taking up more room and my stomach was squished.

I stayed well hydrated throughout my pregnancy. By the beginning of my third trimester, I was excessively thirsty to the point that I was drinking at least 14 bottles of water a day.

I went for an ultrasound at 33w+6d to see how big my baby was measuring. He continuously measured about a week or so ahead and I was concerned he would be too big for me to deliver vaginally. I have anxiety issues so I wanted to be prepared if I was going to need a c-section - I didn’t want it to be sprung on me last minute. The ultrasound looked great, baby was still about a week ahead, and was weighing about 5lbs.

At 35 weeks (literally a week later), I had a routine appt at the OBs. My husband and I once again brought up our concerns about my lack of appetite, the now nausea I was experiencing, the horrible heartburn, my excessive thirst, and extreme fatigue (I couldn’t stay awake for more than an hour or two at a time). I again was told everything I was experiencing was normal for this stage of my pregnancy.

That night, I threw up which I hadn’t done ever since being pregnant. My husband was trying to get me to eat, even though I didn’t feel well. He made me soup - just plain noodles and baked chicken. It was good and I actually ate some. Didn’t end well obviously.

The next day, I noticed my baby wasn’t moving like he normally did. I had only felt him move slightly twice by lunchtime and I was concerned. I called my OBs office and was told to go to labor and delivery for a non-stress test.

My husband and I headed to the hospital. I texted my family to let them know what was going on. Once we got there and got checked in, they started the NST and ordered an ultrasound almost immediately. They told us that I wasn’t having contractions, but that my placenta had calcified and my baby was in distress. We were having our son that day! I’m pretty sure I went into shock at this point, because this is where my memories start to fade.

I was prepped and brought to the OR for an emergency c-section. All I remember from it is them putting up the screen and putting the hot air bubble thing in front of me. My son was born October 19, 2017 at 3:22pm. He was 35w+1d. He weighed 5lbs and 14oz and was 20” long. My husband has told me that I was worried because I never heard him cry, but he was healthy and doing well.

From here on, I don’t really remember. So it’s told as it’s been told to me.

They originally diagnosed me with severe pre-eclampsia and an atypical presentation of HELLP syndrome. After my c-section, I was put on a mag-drip and sent to recovery. My son and I were doing skin-to-skin when a nurse came in and noticed his hand and lips looked a little purple. They discover his left lung was partially collapsed. He was given surfactant and put on a CPAP; he ended up staying the night (and the rest of the story) in the nursery.

That night, I woke up around 2am hysterical, claiming there was a bear in the room. My husband was able to calm me and get me back to sleep. Around 5am, I woke hysterical again about some button for my new room (???). This time, it took the nurse to calm me. At 7am, the nurse came in and immediately called the doctors. I was mag-toxic and presenting complications that this hospital wasn’t prepared to deal with. They didn’t know what was wrong exactly or what would happen, but they needed to move me while I was still stable. I was transferred via ambulance to a bigger/better hospital with more specialists later that morning.

Once at the new hospital, I originally started on the maternity floor. There was a lot of confusion because my records hadn’t been sent with me. My husband told them what had happened. They did blood tests, MRI, and a CAT scan. By the time I was done, blood tests came back and it was determined I needed to be on around the clock care. I was sent up to the ICU.

Long story short, over the next 5 days, I was constantly up and down. Though I was awake, I was technically in a coma. I couldn’t tell you who I was or where I was. The lights were on, but nobody was home. I suffered liver and kidney failure. My ammonia levels were extremely high. I wasn’t allowed to eat or drink as I was being evaluated and put on the list for a liver transplant.

What I finally remember was one week after my son was born. Things were finally looking up and I was steadily making good progress. My first coherent day, I met with way too many people telling me all about liver transplants and going through some more of the tests and evaluations. I spent two more days in the ICU before showing enough improvement to be moved to a general floor/room. Another two days later, they determined I was okay to go home.

I was diagnosed with AFLP - acute fatty liver of pregnancy. It’s very rare and complicated and no one is sure what causes it. My son and I went home the same day and are both doing and recovering well. I continue to have follow-up appts and blood work with a liver specialist to make sure my levels continue to return to normal. I have a happy, healthy almost 3 month old.

It hurts that I don’t remember my son being born. I hate that I missed the first two weeks of his life. I remember having a tearful conversation with my dad that Wednesday I came to, asking when I would feel like a mom. All the nurses and doctors I saw kept asking about him, but I didn’t know anything except what my family told me. I’m very lucky to have as great of a support system as I do. They all split their days between visiting my son in the special care nursery and me in the ICU at a different hospital 45min away.

And it hurts that I never got to breastfeed - they tried pumping while I was in the ICU, but my body was in survival mode and I never produced anything.

The worst part is that I’ve always wanted a big family, but have now been advised against having more children since the chance of reoccurrence is very high.

It’s hard seeing all these people I know having uncomplicated, healthy deliveries and recoveries. It’s hard knowing that I probably won’t ever get to have another child while all these other people will.

The biggest thing I’ve taken from my experience is to be persistent. If you feel like something is wrong, please be persistent. Be so persistent that you’re annoying. You are your biggest advocate. You know your body better than anyone else.