I worked in Chicago in a combined Medical ICU and Coronary Care Unit (CCU) at Northwestern Memorial Hospital for nearly 10 years.  I worked with lots of wonderful nurses in those years 

Suzanne was from New Orleans.  Not Suzanne—SuzAHN—pronounced the French way.  She was pretty, funny, and charming with a delicate Southern accent. 

After the night shift, we were all tired, hair askew and smelling of the hospital.  Once morning report was over, we all went home to soft, warm beds.  In Chicago winters, getting there was always difficult.  Many of us walked several blocks to the garage to our cars.  The car heaters never seemed to warm up until we were nearly home.  Others walked to the L stops or bus stops in the cold, driving wind to transportation that couldn’t come soon enough.  After the ride was over, we still had to walk to our homes.  Some of us lived in walking distance to the hospital.  One cold morning as I was putting my coat on, she got on the phone and dialed security.

“Hello?  This is SuzAHN.  Can I have a ride home?  I’ll meet you outside the ER.”

I couldn’t believe my ears.  The night shift workers who drove had to beg the hospital to provide a van for safety reasons, as the employee parking was several blocks from the hospital.  “Suzanne,” I said, “is security giving you a ride home?”

“Yes.”

“How far do you live?”

“A few blocks,” she replied.

“And how often do they give you a ride?”

“Every morning.  But just when it’s cold out.”

Did I mention that Suzanne was smart? 

My advice is that you pick a competent OB or nurse midwife to deliver your baby but that you also LIKE them, personally.  I would also suggest to have check ups with all the doctors and midwives in the practice before delivery.  It will make the whole process much more pleasant for you and your spouse.

When I got pregnant, we lived in Ormond Beach, FL.  I had a really great OB who had also seen me through my miscarriage.  I was in the process of getting appointments with all the practitioners when we found out we were moving to Savannah, GA.

We moved from our home around 27 weeks through my pregnancy.  I was nervous about changing homes and, more importantly, OB doctors.  I was given the name of Alan Smith by three different people at three different times so I knew he was the right doctor for us.  I couldn’t have been happier with my choice when my complications arose. 

My appointments were routine and just fine.  Around 38 weeks, Dr. Smith told me that time was getting near when I had a burst of energy.  He kept asking me weekly if I had my energy burst yet.  I thought he was crazy.  I was getting progressively more tired as time went on.  At my 40^th week, he set a date for me to get induced.  Over the weekend, I thought I had food poisoning because I was really nauseated and vomited.  The day before I was to go in to be induced, I slept all day.  I began vomiting later that day and my husband, Scott took me to the ER.  I was admitted overnight and was given IV fluids and told to come back the next night.

Scott and I went to the Sixpence Pub in downtown Savannah and had a nice dinner together before induction.  I have a picture of us sitting at the table where we decided on Sheridan’s name.  We went back to Labor and Delivery and I was induced.  After induction drugs were started, things progressed far more quickly than anyone imagined.

By the next morning, Sheridan was on her way.  Dr. Smith asked me if I would like an epidural catheter to manage pain.  I consented and a phlebotomist came in to draw my blood.  The anesthesiologist came by and said. “I can’t place the catheter.  Your platelets are too low.”  I was rather surprised about how flippant he seemed.  Platelets are a clotting factor in the blood.

Dr. Smith ordered more blood work.  When the blood work came back, Dr Smith told me that I had a rare syndrome called HELLP syndrome. A syndrome of low platelets (resulting in poor clotting ability), hemolysis (resulting in anemia), and elevated liver enzymes (causing the nausea and malaise I experienced just before delivery).  “The good news is that delivery cures the syndrome,” Dr. Smith told me with a reassuring smile.  As my water broke, I heard him say, “There is meconium in the fluid.”  He reassured me that it was not uncommon with a 41 week delivery.  Meconium can mean fetal distress. 

I tried really hard to deliver Sheridan but I was unable to do so.  My poor husband stood helplessly by my side as I grunted and groaned, unable to get anything for pain.  Our little daughter was not turned properly to be delivered.  Dr. Smith was really reluctant to do a C-section on me so he tried forceps.  When that attempt failed, I was rushed to emergency surgery, put under general anesthesia, and delivered the baby via C-section.

Scott was handed the tiny little baby and was told that it was still touch and go with me.  The nurses captured him on video being handed our daughter.  The flood of emotions on his face registered happiness and fear.  He followed the nurses to the newborn nursery and busied himself with giving Sheridan her first meal.

As for me, I spent the next several hours in a fog.  I was heavily medicated and very bloated.  When I could make sense of things again, Dr. Smith told me that he very nearly had to do an emergency hysterectomy on me.  “I had the instrument tray open when you stopped bleeding.”  He also told me that I wouldn’t have been able to deliver the placenta without a C-section due to a rare condition called placenta acreda.

Five days, 2 units of platelets and 4 units of blood later, I was discharged with my new little daughter and my uterus intact.  Scott and I thank God and Dr. Smith that everything turned out well, despite the myriad of complications I had.

After my miscarriage, I was really afraid to try getting pregnant again but I got pregnant pretty much as soon as we stopped using birth control. The changes in my body were amazing! One of my first symptoms of pregnancy was breathlessness with exercise at 8 weeks.  As I danced, I thought about how much our little baby must be enjoying the movement and the music from in her tiny water world. Our first ultrasound was at 10 weeks and we rejoiced at the heartbeat.  We were cautious and waited until 14 weeks to say anything to anyone, even family.  Scott and I were playing a computer game of mahjong when I first felt our baby kick.  I had my feet on the rungs of a ladder back chair and I felt tiny butterfly wings in the lower part of my abdomen but said nothing until I was sure of what it was. I was about 15 weeks into my pregnancy.  At 18 3/7 weeks, we found out that she was a girl.  As she grew, I would have a meal and Sheridan, yet unnamed, would get the hiccups.       

As far as the not-so-pleasant symptoms, I had the usual morning sickness for about 12 weeks.  My work colleagues knew I was pregnant before I told them due to the “pregnancy pallor.”  I felt and looked just fat for the first 4 months of my pregnancy.  I was really happy when I started to show and could go out and get maternity clothes.  I continued working part time and going to ballet class until we moved.  I was exhausted and needed to take naps frequently.  I got a painful cyst behind my right knee that still bothers me from time to time.

As the pregnancy progressed, the novelty of all the body changes wore off and I began to feel just big.  We moved from Florida to Georgia when I was a little more than half way through my pregnancy. For the first time in my life, I wasn’t going to school or working.  I was just waiting.  I wanted to take walks but my hands and feet would swell from the dependent position and it was just too hot.  I began to sew and knit like crazy.    Our girl was breech until I was 37 weeks pregnant.  For anyone to feel her little kicks they would have to put their hand almost on my pubic bone.  Her head was in the right side of my diaphragm as she grew, causing me to need to take deep breaths frequently.  She finally turned and I got a little relief.  At the very late stages of my pregnancy, I found that my Halloween costume would fit over my belly and I attended a Halloween party with Scott. 

Instead of the characteristic “nesting” energy, I was getting progressively more tired as time went on.  At my 40^th week, the doctor set a date for me to get induced.  Amid all kinds of interesting complications, Sheridan was finally born November 10, 2005 at 10:33am.

My OB told me that 50% of all pregnancies end in miscarriage.  I am a nurse practitioner but even I was surprised at the statistic.  I missed a period and became pregnant in September of 2004.  I was so proud and elated.  I told everyone I knew and some people I didn't know well at all.  I had the usual nausea symptoms and had to suck on hard candy while I drove to work every morning.  My husband and I talked, dreamed, planned, named.  At 12 weeks, I went in for my first ultrasound.  My husband, Scott, went with me.  The ultrasound technician said, "There is no heartbeat.  I'm sorry."  We sat bewildered.  In shock and disbelief, I told my husband, "Maybe they just need to run more tests."  When the doctor came in and offered condolences, we both cried very hard.  I decided to get a D&C since I had not been spotting.  I had my D&C two days before Thanksgiving 2004.  My heart and spirit were broken.  I didn't know how to fix them.

When I had my miscarriage, suddenly everyone around me told me about their experiences with their own miscarriages.  My ballet teacher, friends, work colleagues, many of the nurses who took care of me during the D&C, and the anesthesiologist.  It is such a widespread phenomenon but no one ever talks about it.  I have a few friends who have had miscarriages since mine and hope I have offered them some comfort by speaking about my experiences.

I am lucky.  I was very afraid to try again but I got pregnant in February of 2005 and had my perfect daughter in November 2005.  I treated the second pregnancy much differently.  I was much more circumspect.  I didn't tell anyone but my sister until after the 12 week ultrasound.  We cried really hard again at the ultrasound but because there was a heartbeat and we were very happy.  We didn't talk, dream, plan or name.  My daughter wasn't named until the night before she was born.  But she fixed my heart and my spirit.  I must believe that things turn out like they are supposed to.  If I had carried the first pregnancy to term, my daughter would not have been conceived and would not be here.  I am grateful that she is here and that I have the opportunity to see her, hold her, love her.

Will I have more children?  No.  As I get older (I am 40), I know that my bio-clock has run down.  I had some complications during my delivery and my chances for miscarriage would be much higher than before.  I just don't want to go through the pain of more miscarriages.  (Besides, how many kids do we want to put through college when we are trying to retire?)  We have a perfect daughter and for that I am truly grateful.