I thought that being confined to the sofa at home was bad, but it was nothing compared to being stuck in hospital.
I was initially put into a shared ward, but a day later they found me a single room. I cannot emphasise how much this improved my mood. Being able to talk freely with my husband and family made a world of difference.
I quickly fell into the hospital routine. It really helped being a bureaucrat, because I knew how to work the system when things got frustrating. I got to know which nurses were lovely, and which ones to watch out for.
I had to check my urine each day to make sure that I had not developed any bacterial infections, because they would have been fatal for the baby. They had to check my blood pressure several times a day.
They also conducted almost daily ultrasounds of my tummy to check how big the baby was, and how much fluid was left in my uterus. The technicians at this hospital were specialists in the field, and they alarmed me by being surprised at how small the baby was, and how little fluid was left.
The nurses would check that the baby was alive twice a day. They tried to make this test seem very banal, instead of the heart wrenching job that it actually was. There were one or two times where the nurse could not find a heart beat and the range of emotions that we went through in a very short space of time was incredible. I dreaded this test because it would bring home to me each day the gravity of the situation.
I was seen each day by a obstetrician and a renal specialist (for my blood pressure). I was also seen at various times by a paediatrician, a surgeon, an anaesthesiologist and a NICU nurse. I had to see these people in preparation for what they felt was inevitable – an early delivery by caesarean, with the baby in the NICU for an indefinite period.
My family were amazing and kept up a steady stream of visitors and food. Some friends were wonderful, and others did not really know what to say. At times I was very blaze about the situation, and at others I was despondent.
I begged the nurses to let me go outside for just an afternoon, and they finally relented on weekend. I was allowed to leave the hospital in a wheelchair and sit on the grass for a few hours in the sun.
But I knew that a difficult decision was coming. I tried not to think about it. Despite all the evidence, I was still hopeful that the baby was going to defy all the odds and stay in the womb for a few more weeks.
About a week after I had been admitted to the hospital, the ultrasound technician finished a scan and looked at me gravely. He told me again how concerned he was with the size of the baby.
He said that the difficulty with my case was that I was not a clear candidate for an emergency caesar, but if they did not get the baby out soon, there was real chance that he might not make it. There was also a chance that my blood pressure could sky rocket at any moment, putting my life and the baby’s at risk.
They said that they would be referring my file to the head of obstetrics and head of paediatrics to make a decision.
My husband and I waited nervously for an answer.
That afternoon, we were told that the baby would be delivered the next morning.
Tags: bed rest, Hypertension in pregnancy, PPROM
