the one about Quayd's birth ... part 4

So I was going to finish this thing up in this last post, but it was crazy long, and I have a lot of pictures at the end. So I decided to break it into two.

I do have to say, though, I have never written all of this stuff down before. i have always wanted too, but just found reasons not to. I talk about it occasionally, but I have never just sat down and put it all together. It has opened so many emotions and brought back tons of memories. I seriously just type and cry. But it has been so therapeutic for me. It has felt so good to put it all out there.

And get this.... Remember how I told you that Brett never reads my blog? Well he worked late last night (late, as in 6:00. so not very late at all!) and he called me crying. I asked what was going on, because he NEVER cries! He said he just decided to look at my blog. He knew I was writing this stuff and he was curious about what I had to say. He said he was surprised at how I viewed some of those events. It makes sense though. I saw it from my point of view. And that was it. His view was totally different. Well it inspired him to write his story down in detail and I think he might even let me put it on the blog!!! Can you believe that? I am so excited. He is planning to start it this weekend.

Anyway, thank you all for your nice comments. It means so much to me that you all care about our story. Most of you that read my blog didn't even know us then so this all might be a surprise to you. But some of you did know us, and I am so grateful for all that you did to help us through that crazy time. (Tara, didn't you guys kill our fish or something? Refresh me.)

Anyway, here is part 4 of 5...

This part of the story is mostly stuff that happened while I was unconscious. I remember tiny bits and pieces, but most of this comes from what I was told after the fact.

I was loaded on the helicopter and I do remember the sound of it. I also remember this... (I actually had nightmares about this for a LONG time!) I don’t know if it happened when I was leaving our hospital and going to the helicopter or going from the helicopter to the U of U. But I will NEVER forget the scary feeling I had. In between hospital and helicopter, they have to unhook the ventilator and squeeze a bag so you can breathe. I remember laying there, and I had been give drugs to paralyze me, so I couldn’t move or talk. Anyway, they would squeeze the bag and it seemed like forever before they did it again. I would be laying there thinking, “Squeeze the BAG! I can’t breathe! I need more air!!!!!! Squeeze it!” Then they finally would. Then it would happen again, “SQUEEZE IT PLEASE!” I am going to die right now because they won’t squeeze the bag. SQUEEZE IT! SQUEEZE THE DAMN BAG!!!!!” Then they would again. I seriously get so upset thinking about it. It was horrible. It has actually affected me a lot. I don’t like to swim under water anymore because I think about it, and I will never be able to scuba dive. I just get so upset and nervous even thinking about it. I don’t like to kiss for a long time because I get freaked out that I might not be able to breathe. Its weird. Anyway, enough of that.

Two things, “miracles,” happened on the helicopter that changed everything. At some point, one of the flight team noticed how huge and puffy I was. Also knowing about all of the fluid on my lungs, they decided to give me Lasix, which helps your body get rid of excess fluids. It immediately relieved some of the pressure on my heart and lungs and they started to see a tiny bit of improvement. Also on that ride, I had an “experience.” Now don’t get freaked out on me. This is a very intimate and personal part of my story, so I don’t want to get to deep into the details. But I will say this. I had to make a choice. I had “visions,” “daydreams,” “active imagination,” call it what you will, of my sweet husband holding our new son in the nursery we worked so hard to prepare. I decided at that moment that I would endure what ever I had to so I could be with these two boys. I am guessing that those two events happened simultaneously. And not by accident.

In the meantime, Brett, Mike and Quayd were driving to Salt Lake City to meet me. Did I say “Driving?” I meant “FLYING.” Yes, they were going WAY to fast and got there way sooner than they should have. I am glad I didn’t know this part until later. I think another miracle may have gotten them there safely. I try to think of how scary that must have been for Brett. Knowing that his wife may or may not have made the flight, but going on blind faith that all would work out. I hope I never have to know how he really felt. Since I married Brett, we drove to Salt Lake twice as Mike was being life flighted. Not really knowing what we would find once we got there. Scary.

Again, I don’t really know the details of this part. I was in and out, but this is how I understand it all happened. Brett, Mike and Quayd got there and they let them come back into the ER at the University of Utah to see me. Now this part is weird... I don’t remember anything else about being at the “U” until I was in my own room, except this part... I was totally drugged and paralyzed and they brought my boys in. I heard the Doctor talking to them in the hall. He explained to them how badly I looked and that I would not be able to hear them. (I was hearing every word of this!) So they walked into the room and I could hear that they were on my right side. Brett had asked if they could give me a blessing and the Doctor said “sure,” and he left them in there alone. I could hear them, and Mike said, “Even though the Doctor said she can’t, she can probably hear you. Talk to her. She needs to know you are here.” I was SO happy that Mike had that insight. I wanted Brett to know I could hear him, but I couldn’t move or talk. It was so frustrating! I remember trying ANYTHING to just twitch a finger or an eye or ANYTHING! I just needed him to know I could really hear him. But I seriously couldn’t move. Brett told me that they were here, and my mom, Grandparents, brother, and Gleneita were on the way. Also, my brother had called my Dad and they had just gotten back to work after their vacation, but he was on a plane and on the way. He told me that Quayd was fine. He slept most of the way out and that he was right there beside me. I was so relieved to hear those things. Brett’s voice was shaking as he spoke. I just wanted to relay to him that I could hear him. I was so happy, sad, scared, frustrated and over-joyed all at the same time and I had no way to let him know. Then a tear rolled down my cheek. I didn’t feel it, but Mike pointed it out to Brett. He said, “See. I was pretty sure she would be able to hear you.” Mike began to talk to me too, and they told me that they had ruled out pneumonia and a blood clot, and they were still trying to figure out what was happening. Then they gave me a blessing. I wish I could remember it, but I don’t. Brett did tell me later though, that during that blessing, he was able to say that I would be ok. Then, even though he had to watch me suffer, he felt like the worst was behind us and there was a light at the end of the tunnel. I think that I was so relieved to hear the news they had given me, that I just relaxed. I do remember though, after they left, I was really agitated and I was starting to move a tiny bit. The Doctor told someone to give me more of something. Then I was out again for awhile.

The next thing I remember I was in ICU. I was still on the ventilator. I actually don’t know if this happened in ICU or what, but as I was coming out of the drug-induced coma, I remember as I woke, I would automatically try to pull the tube out of my throat. The nurses and Doctors would tell me that I couldn’t do that. I KNEW I couldn’t and shouldn’t, but like my reflexes took over or something. They warned me that they would have to restrain my hands, and after I had done this a couple of times, I got one of them to look me in the eye and I somehow relayed the message that I wanted them to restrain me. They were like, “You want to be restrained? Are you sure?” And I shook my head yes. It may seem like nothing to you as you read this, but that was so hard. I didn’t want to be restrained. It made me feel like some kind of monster or something, but I just wanted to get better and be done with it. I couldn’t control myself as I was waking up, so I just had to be tied down. It was really hard. And I am sure it was hard for my visitors to see my hands tied to the bed like that.

I am not sure when, but at sometime it was finally decided what was happening to me. It is really complicated, so bear with me here. Plus I don’t really understand it all. Thank goodness I have Brett to explain it all to me. And you need to know, I am no kind of medical genius, so this is total Mandy terms. Nothing scientific here. K. When you are pregnant, your heart works over time to supply blood to both mom and baby. Well, my heart was working even harder because of the Pre-Eclampsia. It was having to take these huge pumps to get everything circulating through all of my body, all the way to my baby. As you know, the heart is a muscle, so as mine was working so hard, it became enlarged. Once the baby was no longer in my body, my heart finally had the chance to relax a little. It didn’t need to take such huge, hard pumps and it just kinda gave up. Then the beats became very sporadic and out of rhythm. Since there was so much built up fluid in my body, and my heart wasn’t pumping it all through the way it should, it all backed up and finally started spilling into my lungs. This is what was happening to me at my house before I was life flighted. Once the flight crew realized I had too much water on my body, they gave me a medicine that pulled it off my body and into a pee bag. (What did I tell you. No medical terms here!) Once I was in SLC, the Doctors ran several tests and realized just how bad my heart had been damaged. When a normal, healthy heart beats, it pumps 85-90% of the blood though with each “pump.” Mine was only pumping about 22% through. Yet, my body was still making all of the same blood and fluid as before, it just wasn’t working through my body. Thus, causing all of the water retention, eventually filling my lungs. Brett explained it to me that my lungs were the only open area for more fluid to go, so that is where it went. I was officially diagnosed with Peri-Partum Cardio myopathy. That means “pregnancy educed congestive heart failure. At that time, I was the 94th documented case of Peri-Partum Cardio myopathy in the United States.

I really lost track of time, but I think I was in the ICU for about 2 days. I flew in on Wednesday morning and went to ICU that evening, I think. Then Friday afternoon I was moved to my own room. While I was in ICU and on the ventilator, I got very good at writing on a clip board while laying down. I love to talk, so it was really hard not to be able to. I asked a lot of questions, and told a lot about what I had experienced on Life Flight. My dad actually kept some of the papers I had written on and he gave them to me a year later. Nobody knew he had them. It was strange to see what I had written. I really don’t remember much of it. But when I look at those papers today, I still get very emotional. They are actually quite a treasure and I am so glad I have them!

The “U” is a teaching hospital and since my condition was so rare, I was VERY popular. On that first night, when I supposedly couldn’t hear what anyone was saying, I heard some people in my room. I had nothing else to do but listen, so as I drifted in and out, I caught bits an pieces of what they were saying. It was a group of students and a teacher talking about my case. I didn’t know what was wrong with me yet. My family did, but not me. I was still in pretty serious condition and in a drug-induced coma, so they hadn’t told me yet. Well, I heard these people talking so I got out of their group discussion that it was something with my heart. I remember being surprised by that. But the part I heard that I will never forget was this. One of them asked about future pregnancies. The instructor told him absolutely not. The chance of the same thing happening to me again is guaranteed. I was just SHOCKED! And there I lay with nobody to talk to. Nobody to comfort me. And I was so worried that I had let Brett down. As soon as he got there the next morning, I wrote on my little paper, “No more babies.” (That is actually on one of the papers I have.) He just looked at me and said, “I know. It’s ok. We have Quayd, and he is perfect.” What a great guy. I love him so much!

One time when Gleneita was in the room, I asked her (in writing) to please take care of my baby. I knew she would do a great job, and I just needed to know that she had that part covered. Then I didn’t have to worry about it. In the ICU, I wasn’t able to see Quayd. (Although, shhhhhhh... they snuck him in to see me for a few seconds a couple of times.) (my dad took this picture of Brett and Quayd in my ICU room) Remember how I told you that I didn’t really feel like I had that “motherly instinct” to take care of my baby? I still didn’t at this point. As weird as it sounds, I just didn’t care. I mean, I loved my baby, and I felt bonded to him, but I just didn’t worry about his needs. Besides, I knew Gleneita was on it. As selfish as it sounds, the thing I was worried about at that point, was me. Also on my papers, I asked several times about Quayd, and how he was. He was getting a little bit of cradle cap before we went to SLC so Brett was telling me that it was looking better. I wrote, “Did you bring his scrubby brush?” Brett said, “No.” So I told him to go to the nursery and ask if they would give him one. I was worried about such random things. Quayd was also having a hard time with the nipples we had bought, so Mike took it upon himself to go to ShopKo and found some new nipples. Quayd LOVED them and Mike was so proud of himself. But they ended up being very challenging to find later. We made several trips to that same ShopKo when we would come out to the city for my follow up visits just to find those nipples. He also got spoiled by his Grandma right away. He was so tiny and his clothes just drowned him. Gleneita went to the malls and found cute premie clothes. She wanted me to see him looking cute and she wanted his clothes to fit him very nicely. He did look so cute. Also on her shopping adventures, Gleneita and Brynn got me the cutest Build-A-Bear. It is dressed in doctor clothes and says, “We all love you and hoe you get feeling better soon.” It meant so much to me. I slept with it and wouldn’t let it out of my sight while I was in the hospital. It is still something I cherish. It sits in my bedroom right by my bed everyday!

Quayd was so amazing through this whole ordeal. Seriously, he was the BEST baby. He rarely fussed, and he was content to be held by anyone, or just to lounge in his car seat. He was having formula issues at this time, and was not just spitting up, but projectile vomiting CONSTANTLY! But he never cried. Brett tells me that there was just something amazing about him. Through all of the stress, Quayd was always comforted. He was always at peace. He would kinda gaze off and look at things, and I am so sure it was special helpers sent to us to help him. Don’t get me wrong, he was very well cared for, but not only by the people who surrounded him in the hospital waiting room. I know that he was protected and surrounded by angels.



Another thing that I remember and I know was really hard for my family to see (ask them, and they will tell you) is when I had to cough. I don’t really remember much about it, but when I was on the ventilator, I had to be able to cough up the mucus stuff that would build up in my bronchial tubes. It was kind of part of the healing process I guess. But they would send this vacuum thing down the vent tube and at the same time, I had to cough really hard. Which hurt like no other, by the way, because I had a big hose thing blocking everything. At the same time I would cough, the vacuum would suck the crap out. After it sucked the junk out, they would pull the tube out and it would hit my gag reflex and I would gag for awhile, which again, hurt like no other. It was awful. I started to be able to feel when I needed to cough, so even though I knew how much it would hurt, I would ask the nurses to come get the sucker thing and help me cough. It made me feel so much better after I did it, and I knew it was going to help me so much. So I just had to suffer through it. In one place on one of my papers, it says, “I need to cough.”

I was only on the vent for like a day or so, I think. Then they put me on another horrible breathing machine. It was this mask thing that went on my nose and it forced air into my lungs. I didn’t have the tube in my throat anymore, so I could talk, but because of the forced air of the machine, it was really difficult. I had to breathe in rhythm of the machine. So if I said too much, I would get out of rhythm and it was hard to catch back up. So it was just easier to not talk. Plus, I looked like a total idiot. My dad was camera happy and wanted to take pictures of me throughout the ordeal, but I threw a total fit. Also, Tara came to visit one night and offered to take pictures and I said NO WAY! I didn’t want to remember it and I knew I looked terrible and I didn’t think I would ever want to be reminded of it. Well, I kick myself now. I would sorta like to see it and I would even post it on my blog. I did let my dad take some later on, so stay tuned for those. I really wanted a picture of my baby and my husband in my room so I could show the nurses. My sweet cousin Brooke brought me a Polaroid camera and took a few pictures for me.

These are scans of the actual pictures I had in my room in ICU. I just held them and looked at them all the time. I was so proud to be married to such a great guy, and to have such a cute baby. (And I still am!)