It all started in Ireland...
In November 2002, we finally got my Aunt Mary to agree to go to Ireland. Original plans were to go to Ireland in late May or early June, but she wanted to wait until fall. Fall or winter in Ireland typically means rain, but it also means less crowds and a more leisurely time seeing the county. Bill and I had spent the previous Thanksgiving in Scotland, England and Wales and had beautiful weather, so we kept our fingers crossed that we would fair as well in Ireland.
Although it rained a bit in Ireland, we generally had a great time and saw a lot. Stopped in Crookstown, County Kildare to see where James McLaughlin had lived; Loughrea in County Galway to see the Hawkins hometown; and, then to Newport to see the rocky lands of County Mayo, home of the Loughneys. In between we saw castles, sheep, pubs, deserted famine farms and some more sheep. All in all, the three of us (Bill, Mary and myself) saw a great deal of the country and survived (my) driving on the narrow roads of Ireland.
In December my mother-in-law finally retired from work and was moving out of our house after staying with us during the week for the better part of three years. We had a retirement party for her in early December and I began to feel tired…just thought it was due to the hectic schedule I had been keeping. Christmas came and I wasn’t feeling well. Driving back from the Christmas party at my parents-in-law was awful as my stomach hurt and I was generally uncomfortable. A few days later I caught Bill’s cold. Both of us were sick and spent the next few days in bed recuperating.
As New Year’s approached, the cold was going away, but my stomach hurt and I felt awful. I figured I would give it a few days to see if things got better. On New Year’s Eve I couldn’t stand it anymore and went to Urgent Care. The pain in my stomach was localized on my left side just below my ribs. To lay on my left side made my nauseated. I thought it was an ulcer.
Bill went in with me to the doctor. The doctor went through all the standard questions but the only symptom I was describing was the pain on my left side. He asked if I could be pregnant. Of course I could be pregnant…we had been doing Natural Family Planning for 14 years but there was always a possibility I could be pregnant. The urine test confirmed it…I was pregnant.
I was thrilled, but felt so sick that I wasn’t bouncing off the walls with joy. The doctor had me lay on the exam table and felt my stomach. He asked me how far along in the pregnancy I thought I was. About five weeks I thought. Feeling my uterus, he said he thought I was more like 20 weeks. Since the timescale didn’t make sense, he wanted to do a more thorough (internal) exam. This just made things worse since he wasn’t able to find my cervix! After all the problems my mom had had, this was beginning to worry me. The doctor then used a Doppler to see if he could hear a heart beat from the baby but had no luck. He sent me to the lab for blood tests. All those tests did was confirm I was pregnant. At this point everyone was concerned and wondering what was wrong. The doctor said he thought I had a molar pregnancy, which would’ve explained the enlarged uterus, and scheduled me for an ultrasound later that week. We went home, still incredibly sick, but now not knowing what was going on.
At home, things got worse. I couldn’t eat anything, couldn’t sleep, and was so incredibly sick. After a few days of this we decided to head to the Emergency Room at Regions Hospital. I went through the whole story with the doctor who decided to do her own exam and then got a portable ultrasound to see what was going on. Urine test again confirmed a pregnancy, but we didn’t know what that meant at this stage. There were so many things unanswered about what was going on that the head of the ER was summoned. In the meantime, they had given me an IV because I was severely dehydrated and also gave me something for the nausea. For a few minutes I started to feel better.
The head doctor tried to make something out of the ultrasound, but had no luck. At this point they decided to call the ultrasound technician in to do a thorough ultrasound on a “real” machine in the OB-GYN area. They wheeled me down the dark corridors of the hospital…it was now about 2am. The unlucky “on-call” technician was waiting for me. The ultrasound showed the egg sack but you couldn’t see the tell-tale “grain of rice” that indicated a baby. The head of the ER showed up and watched the last half of the ultrasound. Instead of a molar pregnancy, it showed I had a really large fibroid tumor. At least this was better news than a molar pregnancy.
I was wheeled back to the ER and an OB-GYN specialist was called. She came in to talk to me about the pregnancy. She told me that I had a non-viable pregnancy. It was just an empty egg sack. I was in shock over the whole situation. I asked her if she was sure that it was non-viable. Absolutely, was her response. After more discussion I inquired again, was she certain it was non-viable? Absolutely. Discussion then centered around what to do. I could either have a D&C or “go home and let nature take its course.” There was no way I wanted a D&C, but wasn’t looking forward to waiting around for a miscarriage either. The entire situation was sad and disappointing. I was so sick I just wanted to be someone else, somewhere else, anywhere but dealing with this. Again I asked about the viability and what I should expect from a miscarriage. Again I was told it was non-viable and a miscarriage was imminent. I told the doctor I would let “nature take its course” and went home.
Later that day I was still very, very sick but now was having very bad chills that I couldn’t get under control. I was shaking from being both hot and cold and felt so awful I wanted to die. I called Bill at work and he brought me back to the ER. Here they gave me another IV with two liters of saline because I was completely dehydrated and hadn’t eaten or drank much in a week or more. They gave me some more drugs for the nausea and I actually fell asleep on the exam table…I was totally exhausted.
I was sent home with anti-nausea medication and was optimistic I would feel better, but was haunted by the anticipated miscarriage. At this point I asked Bill to call my aunt and let her know what was going on and to call the Carmelite Brothers because I wanted their prayers. I still couldn’t eat and only slept a few minutes at a time.
When Monday arrived I called around to find an OB-GYN who would be able to see me that day. We had to find out for certain what was going on. Bill found a doctor that could see me that day. This doctor said it was too early to have made the non-viable determination because I was barely six weeks along. He scheduled me for another ultrasound on Friday to take another look. He also determined that the baby was conceived around Thanksgiving, something we hadn’t even thought about. Bill and I then knew that the baby had been conceived in Westport, Ireland, a small town next to Newport, the town my Loughney ancestors had left 150 years earlier. We went home and waited for the ultrasound.
I was still very sick, not sleeping and not eating. My Aunt Mary kept bringing over food because I was losing quite a bit of weight, but I just couldn’t eat. As hard as I tried, I couldn’t eat or drink. The anti-nausea medication only worked for a short period of time and I could only take so much of it. After few days I gave up taking it altogether since it wasn’t really impacting how I felt. Plus I am typically reluctant to take medications and thought, what if I really am pregnant…didn’t want to take something that would harm the baby.
We had a nurse do the ultrasound and it was incredible. Here was a baby, you could see its heart beating(!) and the nurse said everything looked fine, except the large fibroid!! Bill and I somehow knew in our hearts that this would be the answer. I was so relieved and felt so blessed. We went home happy and optimistic about the pregnancy. It was still early, so we were concerned, but it certainly seemed like things were heading in the right direction. My mind was now occupied with the knowledge that I was pregnant, really pregnant.
We had another visit with the doctor the next week and he did another ultrasound himself. Here was the baby and its heart beat was strong in right in the range it should be. The large fibroid (size of a large grapefruit or football) concerned him, but he said it wouldn’t cause complications for the baby. What I thought was an ulcer was really the baby. The doctor remarked he hadn't ever seen a baby so high up in the uterus and so far to one side. At least we knew what was going on. I was still so sick that he ordered batteries of tests. All of them showed I was fine, just really sick. I was on disability leave from work and still losing weight. More doctors visits, more ultrasounds and more tests all showing the baby was fine, I was fine just really, really sick. Unfortunately, the doctor said the large fibroid would necessitate a C-section. I was fine with that since he was so insistent about it.
Despite being the first doctor to determine it was a viable pregnancy, I wasn’t comfortable with him. I ran his name on the internet and found he was an abortion provider. Now I was very uncomfortable with him and had to find another doctor. I guess it made sense that he had talked to us on several occasions about abortion and undergoing tests that I refused because I thought they were too risky and increased the risk of miscarriage. I no longer trusted him with my care and certainly not my baby’s.
I called around and got the name of another doctor, who remains the doctor we will have for delivery. He was more balanced in his description of tests and procedures, explaining both pros and cons instead of only presenting the position he wanted us to agree with. He was less concerned about the fibroid and had a “wait and see” attitude about things as they could change as the pregnancy progressed.
At this point I went from being really sick to throwing up all the time. I had morning sickness all day, every day. I lost over twenty pounds and was concerned about the effect on the baby. The numerous ultrasounds and tests showed that the baby was doing fine…I was just sick. I still couldn’t do much but lay in bed all day.
In March I was finally feeling OK, not great, but better and went back to work. Really, I should say I went back for a day and they laid me off. I was happy because I had planned to quit work in August when the baby arrived, but now they would give me a severance package and unemployment that would pay me to stay at home and would last longer than if I had worked and quit in August. I was happy to stay home because I still was very sick.
The horrible sickness lasted into April when it suddenly stopped. I haven’t thrown up since. However, an ultrasound at the doctor’s indicated I might have placenta previa so I was sent to St. Joe’s hospital for them to do an intensive ultrasound on their state-of-the-art machine. Fortunately, the hormone surges during pregnancy hadn’t made the fibroid grow, but the ultrasound did show I had marginal placenta previa. It also showed the baby was a boy.
The doctor and I were optimistic that the placenta previa would clear up since I was in the second trimester and as the baby grew hopefully the placenta would move away from the cervix. I was told to take it easy, no lifting, no straining, just relax. Although the condition was alarming, I was certain it was temporary. Now I had to scramble and prepare for natural labor and delivery since the odds of a C-section seemed to be diminishing. All the classes at St. Joe’s were full through October…little help to me because I was due in August. I called an instructor and she graciously got me into a class she was teaching at Regions at the last minute.
Another ultrasound in the third trimester showed the placenta previa was still there. Back to St. Joe’s for another intensive ultrasound. Things seemed worse. It now looked like the fibroid was pushing on the placenta and forcing it down lower onto the cervix. Now a C-section was a certainty and I was told I couldn’t travel. This meant I couldn’t go to our cabin and eventually missed a baby shower that was too far away from a hospital. Plus, the fibroid was so large and in such a position that it may have to be removed to get the baby out. I was sent to the Red Cross to bank some of my own blood in case I needed a transfusion during the C-section because if the doctor had to remove the fibroid, I could lose a lot of blood. Removing the fibroid would require the doctor to “reconstruct” the uterus and could lead to a hysterectomy, but that was a rare situation.
(Story to be concluded in two weeks when baby finally arrives!)