What Doctors Said When I Went Into Early Labor With My Son

“Nothing.”

The words hit me like a ton of bricks. I sat silent trying to control the tidal wave of emotions that would soon be rolling down my cheeks. The doctor left the room and I looked at my husband in complete defeat. A million thoughts raced through my mind but I couldn’t catch one long enough to form a cohesive sentence. I was 20 weeks pregnant into my second pregnancy.

My first pregnancy had ended in the first trimester due to a blighted ovum. After waiting many months to try again, I was thrilled to see that positive pregnancy test. That feeling of delight was quickly met with worry. I couldn’t help but wonder if this pregnancy would end as suddenly as the first. I wasn’t prepared for another loss and honestly I hadn’t considered that it could be a possibility until I saw the words “pregnant” staring back at me.

Early pregnancy was a bumpy ride. I had early complications due to a large subchorionic hemorrhage. I ended up visiting the hospital several times to confirm the pregnancy was still viable, I even spent Christmas night at the ER. I was placed on a modified work schedule and we crossed our fingers and hoped for the best. Around 16 weeks, I was thrilled when the doctors confirmed the hemorrhage had reabsorbed.

Fast forward four weeks. I wake up with severe stomach pains. I thought it could have been the take away food we had the night before. I ignore it and try to carry on. By 2 p.m. it was clear that whatever was going on was not getting better. I called the doctor who told me it was most likely nothing but I should get checked out. I drove myself to the local hospital. Upon check in they asked if I needed a wheelchair to get up to the maternity floor. “No I’m 20 weeks, I’ll be fine,” I said. I arrived on the maternity floor and was immediately whisked away into an exam room. They hooked up the monitors and the nurse asked me a series of question. A second nurse soon arrived, after a few minutes I was told I needed an IV. “Is everything OK”? I asked, still not understanding what was going on.

I watched for at least 20 minutes as two nurses frantically tired to get an IV in my arm. They went back and forth between my arms and then my hands, I lost count of how many times they tired to start the IV. Around this time my mother-in-law (MIL) arrived to be with me, as my husband was about an hour away at work. The doctor finally came in and told me what was going on. I was in early labor, my contractions were about seven minutes apart and I was effacing and starting to dilate. I was told I needed to go to a hospital that was about 25 minutes away that had a NICU and a Maternal Fetal Medicine Team. They told me the nearest ambulance was about 20 minutes away and they didn’t want me to wait, so they asked my MIL to drive me. I remember being wheeled out and being put into my MIL’s car with the seat fully reclined, “Do not sit up it will put pressure on your cervix,” I was told.

That was the longest drive of my life.

I got to the hospital where nurses frantically tried to find any place to put an IV. After numerous attempts they were able to locate a small vein and got the line in. A short time later my husband arrived. A flurry of doctors came in and started explaining that they thought my cervix was not competent to hold the pregnancy. They were giving me the IV in hopes that it would help reduce the contractions, but it wasn’t. They asked if they could give me a shot of a medication, I agreed I wanted them to do whatever they needed to. I would later find out this medication was a category X drug in pregnancy and has been linked to an increased risk of autism in the fetus. The medication didn’t work, I was still contracting. They told me they were admitting me.

That’s when I asked, “What happens next?”

“Nothing” the red haired doctor said with little emotion. “We can’t intervene any further, you are not 23 weeks. If it doesn’t stop, the baby will be born and will not be able to breathe even with our help.”

After several years these words still haunt me. I remember letting out the most bizarre sound ever, there are no words to explain the pain and guilt I felt. Was it my fault? Did I do something wrong? All I could think about was my baby boy.

“When you calm down we can talk about this further,” the doctor said.

My husband was quick to tell the doctor she needed to leave. Looking back, I was not only crushed at learning that there was nothing to be done for my baby, but also at how absolutely emotionless the doctor was. Maybe it was because she saw this so frequently or maybe it’s because she didn’t want to make it it harder for us — we will never know.

I was brought to another ward. They sent the hospital chaplain in to talk to us. It was one of the most surreal experiences of my life. She asked me about people in my life passing before and how I remembered them. I told her since I was young I have always believed they turn into stars, that way whenever you look up in the night sky you can see them.

The doctors came in and told me to go to sleep, that I needed rest for what was to come. I couldn’t sleep. I remember laying there talking to God. If you knew me, you would know that I stopped believing in God many years prior to this. I remember asking my grandfather, who had been gone for years, to help save my baby. I finally dozed off, I awoke a few hours later when the doctors came back in. I was prepared for what was to come. Then the doctor said something beyond comprehension, “I am not sure what happened.” I was confused, “what is she talking about?” I asked myself. We all know it’s never good when a doctor says something like this.

“It stopped, your contractions have stopped and the baby’s heart rate is stabilized,” the doctor said. I think I was in as much disbelief as them. I didn’t even know what to say. They quickly added that this could be temporary and it may start up again in a few hours. It would be a day by day kind of thing. When they left the room I remembered breaking down and whispering “thank you” to my grandfather. I stayed in the hospital for a week before being discharged. I was sent home on full bed rest. I had to lay down 24/7 and not sit or stand unless I had to eat, shower, use the bathroom or go to the doctors.

At 39 weeks I went into labor and delivered a healthy baby boy. I was later diagnosed with an incompetent cervix, but have since gone on to carry another baby full term with fewer complications (thanks to medical intervention). While my pregnancy experiences were not easy, I now have two beautiful children for which I am externally thankful for.

Never give up hope. You can do this.