Two months before my due date I told my husband I wanted to take my daughter to a nearby park as it may be the last opportunity while the weather was nice. In the back of my mind, I wanted to have this experience with my 4 year old in case something bad happened with my pregnancy and delivery. I could sense something was very different with this pregnancy and that something bad was going to happen.

I had been to my OB several times and each time my blood pressure was high but not high enough to worry. Many times they attributed it to me being anxious or having just lumbered in from the parking lot. I felt awful. I had a rash of small red bumps up both arms that the doctor said was normal, too.

On the day I was admitted to the antepartum ward, I felt lightheaded and saw rainbow prismatic shapes in my vision. I had no appointment but walked into the OB office and said - something is very wrong. Please help me. I started crying which is out of character and batted down the “anxiety” excuse. This was not my first rodeo and I knew this was different. After seeing two separate doctors which were not my OB but in the same group, they did a protein test for my urine and my result was positive. One hour later I was checking into the hospital for what would become a 28 day stay.

The two weeks I was in the hospital before delivery there were two goals: take it easy and keep the baby in as long as possible. I swelled up like a water balloon. COVID protocols were in place so visitors were limited. I didn’t see my 4 year old for weeks.

I continued to deteriorate waiting to deliver until one of the many blood tests showed a spike in liver involvement and a drop in platelets. I was diagnosed with HELLP syndrome and an emergency plan was developed.

The morning of my c-section there were complications. Because of the platelet issue, concerns abounded around if they could do an epidural. I couldn’t risk the paralysis.

As I lay naked and strapped down to the operating table my doctor said that they didn’t want the baby to get the anesthesia gas they would give me so they would have to move quickly. The nurses did what they call a vag kit which is a way to clean the vaginal area. The tool they use feels like a stick wrapped in sandpaper scraping a layer of skin from the vaginal canal. Most women are numb and don’t feel this. I wasn’t yet numb.

I held the anesthesia techs hand as I felt the plunge of the scalpel for my cesarian. They put the mask on instantly and I watched the ceiling tiles and lights fade through tears. The baby’s lungs would have a chance if they could get her out before the anesthesia kicked in.

I woke up 16 hours later knowing I had given birth but not knowing if the baby was ok or where she was. Quickly my husband rushed to me and noted that the baby was ok in the NiCU - 4lbs, 6 weeks early and a very loud crier. I was stable but miserable. Many doctors and nurses buzzing around. Many tests. All seemingly normal results - platelets returning, fluid draining.

24 hours after trying to keep track of which breast I pumped and how much colostrum I could eek out as well as a few reluctant nurses wheeling me up to see my little girl, I mentioned that I was feeling strange. I told my doctor that it felt like a hummingbird was in my chest. This doctor didn’t tell me it was anxiety. She ordered an ultrasound and a CT scan to investigate. I was taken from the NiCU unit 30 minutes later. I had a heart effusion, a liter of fluid surrounded my heart and it was wreaking havoc. I was to be prepped for pericardial window surgery. An open heart procedure not two days after a HELLP syndrome traumatic birth.

I survived. But I remained in the hospital with a heart pump in the middle of my chest and a breast pump alternating on either side as I desperately tried to keep my milk. I couldn’t.

Recovery was hard. I still struggle with my new body challenges but my baby is 4 and perfect. A sacrifice I do not regret.