Emily's Story

I know that this is something that most people won't want to read, but since there isn't a lot of people reading this blog anyway it doesn't matter.

On October 5 or 6th of 2000, I was home alone. I know it sounds silly not to know the exact date, but so much of this time is hazy that dates are not easy to recall. Anyway, my husband was working late and I had spent the day at a conference for work. I had been talking on the phone to a friend while I was laying down...my back had really been hurting me. To help with the pain, I made a warming sock and used it to help ease the pain. After talking to my friend I felt the urge to use the bathroom, so I did. When I went to the bathroom, I felt a rush of warm water and it wasn't urine. It didn't come from that area. I immediately knew that my water had broke.

After a couple of seconds of calming myself down and working up the nerve, I decided to check (I'm not sure for what). That is when I saw the blood. Lots of blood. And the panic kicked in. I grabbed the phone and called my doctor. My doctor was not on call that night so I talked to the one that was. He kept asking me if I was sure if my water had broke and I kept saying yes and explained why (I don't think he liked it, but he kept implying that he didn't believe me). Eventually, he told me to go to the closest emergency room.

I live an hour away from my closest relative and am nearly that far from my husband's work place. So, because I was shaking so bad, I called a couple of co-workers/friends. No one was home. Next, I called my aunt that lives near my parents and asked to talked to my uncle (which up to that point I had never done...asked to talk to him). I explained to him (I was afraid that my aunt would flip out) what was going on and asked him to go tell my mom and dad (I KNEW my mom would flip). So he did. I obviously was going to either have to call 911 or drive myself. I didn't want my neighbors seeing me being put into an ambulance, so I drove myself. Once I got behind the wheel, an eerie calm came over me and I drove without crying or panic or flipping out to the hospital. At one point, I was behind an ambulance and thought of trying to stop them (or follow them into the Wendy's they eventually pulled into), but decided that I was almost to the hospital and it would be silly. I finally reached my husband on his cell phone and filled him in. He said he wasn't sure if he could leave but he'd try to get to the hospital as soon as possible.

Once I got to the hospital, I thought about pulling into the emergency entrance, but didn't want to over react, so I found the closest parking spot (to where I already was) and parked my car. I ended up walking up quite a way to the emergency entrance. The emergency room was quite full, but as soon as I told them I was in premature labor they grabbed a wheel chair got me out of there.

The poor man that wheeled me up to the labor and delivery floor was trying to be kind and was asking questions: was this my first, did I know if it was a boy or a girl (I explained I was expecting twins but didn't know the sex), etc. Then he asked if I was excited. I tried to be as kind as possible and said, "No. I'm not due until the 1st part of February." The man apologized profusely and didn't say word the rest of the time.

Trying to shorten the story, I paraphrase here. The hospital (and my doctor who met me at the hospital shortly after I got there) transferred me to another hospital in the area. The "new" hospital had a very good neonatal unit (I think someone tried to explain something about levels to me, but I wasn't really listening). I don't remember the whole thing, but I do remember joking with the ambulance guys when they said something about the elevator being broke and possibly taking me down the stairs. My suggestion was that they just warn me and give me a good push and I meet them at the bottom. They laughed and found a working elevator.

At the new hospital, I don't remember the 1st night. I think my mom ended up spending the night (everyone had met me at the 1st hospital in record time). The second night I sent everyone home. At some point during the night/early morning (again I can't remember although the birth certificate would tell me) I felt an urge to use the bathroom so I called a nurse. The nurse helped me into the bathroom and left me alone (after she showed me the call button and made sure that I was ok).

That was a mistake. I started to use the bathroom, but knew right away that something was majorly wrong. Once again, something had come out of the wrong spot. I blanked out my mind. It truly is amazing how a person can block thoughts. I pushed the call button and in an amazingly calm, conversational voice I asked for my nurse. My nurse was there in a heart beat. I told her that I thought that I had just had a baby. She looked at me as though I was nuts and asked what I meant (panic was creeping into her voice as she finished the question). I calmly told her that I thought that I had my baby and it was in the toilet. She went over the edge. She ran out of my room hollering for help, ran back in and asked me if it were alive. I told her that I had been afraid to look. She was not happy (she didn't want to look either I guess). The baby was there.

Without all of the details, she got me to the bed and help arrived. The baby was dead. Someone asked if I wanted them to call my husband. I asked them to call my parents and have them go get my husband. Then they wanted to know if I wanted to see my baby. At first I said no...I was afraid it might be deformed...don't ask how. The nurse reassured me that it looked like a baby. When I saw my little girl, I cried. I kept saying how beautiful she was (if you've ever seen a very premature baby...you know they aren't beautiful...except to possibly their parents).

When my parents and husband arrived, the baby had been taken away or put in an incubator for my family to see (don't remember). I do remember crying and saying how sorry I was. They had no idea what was going on. Apparently, I had asked the nurse calling them not to say anything (like a woman who's just given birth to their baby in a toilet bowl is mentally competent to make ANY decisions), so I had to tell them the news and explain what had happened.

I have to say...nurses and doctors sure know how to make you feel stupid. Didn't I know I was in labor? Couldn't I tell the difference between labor pains and having to go to the bathroom? You get the picture. It's taken six years to forgive myself for not knowing. It took a while before I'd use a bathroom also...especially since I was still carrying another baby.

That night was the last night I cried for 10 days. No one was allowed in my room if they were crying. I was terrified that if I started, I'd never stop...or that I'd cause myself to go into labor and lose the remaining baby...or the baby would...the list goes on.

Well, that is Emily's story. I think I'll stop for today. I will save Sarah's story for another day.
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