Wednesday, December 1st dawned a very warm, rainy, stormy day. It was unusual weather for that time of year - temperatures were well into the 60s, and it felt more like spring than late fall/early winter. This was also the day when the shit really hit the fan.
My OB indeed received the results of my urine catch, and it was not good: I had +3 edema, particularly in my legs; my kidneys were spilling 10+ protein, and were on the verge of shutting down. He broke the news to us that I had severe preeclampsia, and his goal was to have me make it as long as possible before delivery so they could administer steroid shots to help Judith's lungs develop. He informed me that I would have to be transferred to a different hospital, one with a Level III NICU that could handle a very premature baby. He explained that St. Joseph (where I was at) had some sort of relationship with St. Luke's in Bethlehem, and that was where they were going to transfer me. My perinatologist was from St. Luke's, so I felt comfortable being transferred and placed under his care up there.
I was immediately started on magnesium sulfate, to help prevent any seizures that could be caused by the pre-e. If you have never been on mag, I hope you never have to be. That stuff sucks. They give you a bolus over the course of an hour, and it's wicked - you get major hot flashes, and it can make you nauseated (thank God I avoided that part, but it did make me feel very funky - like an acid trip or something). They also had to place a catheter, because the mag pretty much robs you of the ability to walk like a normal person; my urine output also had to be monitored, so this was an easy way for them to do so.
A group of student nurses was on the floor that day, and they asked if it would be ok for them to place the catheter. I'm big on learning opportunities like these, and it didn't bother me. Just my luck, though, it was storming at the time, and the freakin' power went out right as they were getting ready to place the catheter. It took a little bit for the generator to kick in, and once it did the ladies got everything placed quickly and accurately.
I spent an hour in a medical van on the way to Bethlehem, and that was one of the most uncomfortable trips of my life. I had some bad sciatica by then, and every bump hurt my poor bum. I couldn't move my legs around (strapped down for safety), and I couldn't switch positions. Combine that with the looming fact that I was only 29 weeks along and was facing the very real possibility of my daughter arriving by the end of the week.
My mom and John drove separately, and met me at the hospital. I arrived first, because John got directions to the wrong place. I was settling into my room by the time they figured out they were at the right place, and I had an ultrasound scheduled with my peri. Mom didn't stay long - it's a good hour and a half drive for her, and she needed to get home; she stayed long enough to make sure I was settled, then made the trek south.
John went with me to the ultrasound, and the peri took a look at everything. The day before, I had an ultrasound at St. Joe's, and my OB noticed something funky with the placenta. My peri told us what happened: as a result of the pre-e, my placenta shut down, and Judith stopped growing. It happened in the span of 2 weeks - I had an appointment with him 2 weeks prior, and everything was fine. He also told us that because the pre-e was so bad, Judith was Intrauterine Growth Restricted (IUGR), and because my placenta wasn't functioning, they would have to deliver as soon as possible. The hope was for me to hold out long enough to get the 2nd steroid shot, and they would schedule a c-section for 24 hours after the last shot (Judith was also breech, so an induction wasn't even possible). They would perform an emergency c-section if things deteriorated further.
To be continued...