Wednesday, May 25, 2016

May 25, 2015 Emma is born

A year ago today at 2:15 am at 18w6d, Emma Lee Naylor, was born sleeping. She weighed 9.3 oz and was 9 inches long. She was beautiful and perfect. Not a moment or day goes by that I don't miss her. She and her brother changed my life forever.

A few hours after I was admitted to the room, David had to go. We were trying to keep Katie's schedule as normal as we could throughout all this since she was only 17 months old and too young to understand or know what was going on. She has a set bedtime routine, plus he needed to feed our cats and my mom had to tend to her pets as well. My contractions from the morning that led me to the ER never stopped. As the day wore on, they increased in intensity and as night came I knew I was in labor.  I called David right around the time I was sure I was going to give birth soon.  He called his family to get someone at the house since Katie was sleeping.

Things are hazy after she was born. I went from stable to very much not.  I lost a lot more blood than they thought and my infection got worse.  I was offered the option of ending both pregnancies after Emma's fate and my infection were determined, but knowing Chase had a chance, albeit how small, I refused.  I lost that option after she was born. I remember a lot of medical staff in my room when it had just been my amazing nurse and me prior to that. My doctor was yelling things, I was barely conscious. They were trying to get an epidural in me because they were going to end the rest of the pregnancy since at that point I was actively dying.  I tried to tell them no, but I couldn't really talk.  They also couldn't get the epidural in me because I was too weak and unstable.  I remember them wheeling my bed very fast around the hospital.  I think they were taking me to the operation room and planning on giving me general anesthesia.  I honestly don't know because I couldn't really ask, I was trying to feel better and somehow I ended up stabilizing a bit.  I'm not sure what I said, but they took me to a room where they took my vitals again and after a few min. reattempted the epidural.  This time I was stable enough to take it.  They had heavy doses of antibiotics going in me.  They asked me if I wanted Chase out or in.  They said they were limited on what they could do to give me if I chose to continue carrying Chase.  The epidural was in, but no medicine was started at this time.  It was "just in case" I needed to go to the OR.  I told them I wanted to continue carrying as long as I could.  I was told the choice was mine as long as I was stable. If that changed, so did my options.

They did an ultrasound and I saw him.  He was beating in the 160s and very much alive and seemingly doing fine.  I was having a lot of contractions, but they would calm down and then start up.  I kept praying that he'd be okay, that Chase would make it.  I told myself he would, after all, he was a namesake, he was my Chase, he would be born alive.

I spent the day very weird.  I held my beautiful daughter, it gave me some peace to hold her and have him in me, at least during those hours. In my mind they were still together and I had all my children. I was very, very sick. I had a few people come visit me and I offered anyone who walked in the chance to hold Emma if they wanted.  I was just as proud of her, as I was of Katie.  I didn't care that I was only holding her body, I wanted everyone to meet my sweet girl.  I held her every moment I could, looked at her sweet face, and listened as the doctor told me there was a 90% chance her brother would come in the next 48 hours as I told her and everyone in the room that he was going to make it, he already beat the 97% odds he'd be born along his sister.  He was born 28 hours after her.

Emma looked almost identical to Katie.  It was surreal to see the resemblance. My pictures of Emma are better because a friend took them for us.  She drove down 4 hours just to see me and helped get the pictures of Emma.  May 25, 2015 was Memorial Day and was supposed to be the day of my gender reveal.  We had her most of the day and when it was time to say goodbye, we sang Soft Kitty, and handed her to the nurse.

The PTSD intensified yesterday as the day wore on.  I had two people primarily trying to message me and I couldn't respond much beyond a word or two answering their question.  My chest hurt pretty bad on the way home from work and when I first got home.  I had trouble breathing too.  I felt like I was suffocating.  David was working late, so it was just Katie and I for a while.  As I watched her play I started to cry.  She noticed and started imitating me and saying "mama cry" and looking at me and then trying to smile to cheer me up.  Then she repeated it as I started crying again. I gave her a hug and got her engaged in another toy.  Went into my bedroom (next to the living room where she was), layed on my bed and cried and cried and cried while clutching the bear in Emma's first photo.  That bear was given to me by my nurse.  I put the baby bracelet of each child on that bear and have never taken them off.  I sleep with this bear every night since then. After crying, more of myself came back and stayed the rest of the night.

I woke up at 2:00 am today.  I knew I'd wake up in time for Emma's birth. My chest hurts so bad right now.  I miss my children, I miss them so much.

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