Hayley's Preemie Story: Part 2 - The Rainbow Brings More Storms

On April 27, 2013 I took a pregnancy test. I was amazed, excited, and elated to find that it came up positive! I was pregnant again! We were, of course, cautious this time, but we had achieved pregnancy and, for now, we were expecting a baby. Moments after telling my husband, we sat on the edge of the bed together and prayed over this baby, that we would be able to bring this one home. We knew that God was in control and could allow this one to make it. This time I was put on progesterone to help the baby to hopefully stick better.

At 5 weeks we had just told our family about our baby but hadn't told anyone else except one close friend. That Sunday, on Mother's Day, our Pastor's wife surprised us with a present! It was a tiny winter baby girl outfit! She told us she felt like God wanted her to buy it for someone, and she wasn't sure who. When she got home, the friend that we had told (our Pastor's Daughter-in-Law) said she knew who it was for -- us! It was perfect because it was a newborn outfit and our baby was due January 4, right in the middle of winter, which meant she'd need a warm winter outfit. We took that as confirmation from God that our baby would be OK. And, perhaps, that we'd be having a girl!

Everything went smoothly in the pregnancy with all the normal symptoms and morning sickness until 7 weeks when I had some spotting. We were terrified after our last experience, so we went to the ER for an ultrasound. The ultrasound showed a beautiful, healthy little bean in a HUGE sack (so much different than our last experience) with a heartbeat in the 140's! We sighed in relief and were told that it was probably the progesterone that irritated things.

At 18 weeks we had the anatomy ultrasound which confirmed that it was, indeed, a girl! Our daughter, Hayley Judith, was so beautiful on the ultrasound, sucking her little thumb and wiggling around. We were so in love with her already and couldn't wait to meet her!

At 27 weeks, however, our lives were turned upside down when I started swelling up really badly. My eyes were puffy, my hands were swelled, my feet had been really badly swollen for over 24 hours with no sign of going down, and I just didn't feel right. I went into my OB's office for a BP check, which showed that my blood pressure was high at 160/90. I was admitted to the hospital for a 24 hour urine test. The results of the 24 hour test came in the next day and revealed my proteins were at 450, which was not overly high considering normal is 300. I had preeclampsia but was not in immediate danger. The plan was to put me on bed rest once they got my blood pressure under control with medicine.

The next day the doctor walked into my room with a grim look on his face. He asked where my husband was (he had gone to work because things looked stable) and told us he might want to be here. That sentence told me something was seriously wrong. He then proceeded to tell us that the results didn't add up to him and he had the lab recheck the number. It turns out that they had misplaced a decimal point. My protein wasn't 450 like they thought but was 4,500! He told us 5,000 was a level that showed kidney failure, so I was nearing that number! This, of course, was a game changer! They gave me a steroid shot right away and transferred me to the nearest hospital with a NICU, because, at this point, we were definitely going to have a preemie.

Hayley's Preemie Story: Part 1 - The Darkness Before Our Rainbow

So, as promised, here is the story of our daughter's preemie journey. Her story doesn't just start with her birth; it starts with our journey to get her, which involved infertility and loss.

We started trying for her in April of 2011. We tried not to stress it early on, figuring it would happen before long, but when we were nearing on a year with nothing we were getting discouraged. Then, it happened. A positive test in April of 2012. We were excited, but the joy was short lived when my period started as normal and the test lines faded. We had had a "chemical pregnancy" or very early miscarriage. We were bummed and saddened but pressed on, hoping that it was a good sign that we could make it happen.

In July 2012 we were elated to find out that I was pregnant once again. This time the test lines did not fade, but kept growing darker. My period did not show up and things seemed to be going well. Around 6 weeks, however, I started getting some spotting, which concerned us, but we were told that it can be normal early on, so we tried not to worry. I went to my first OB appointment at close to 8 weeks. I was spotting red this time so they did an ultrasound, which showed a beautiful little baby with a little heartbeat. That flicker was the most beautiful sight I'd ever seen. The baby looked healthy, but was measuring behind at only 6 weeks 5 days and the sack was measuring small. They told us the spotting was the result of a bleeding cyst (the corpus luteum) and was not a concern.They scheduled me for a repeat ultrasound in a week and we left with a lot of hope after seeing that little heartbeat.

The next day, however, I began bleeding. We were terrified I was losing the baby. It was too late to see the OB that day, but they got us right in for an ultrasound the next morning. That drive to the OB office seemed to take forever and we had no idea what to expect. Much to our relief, the ultrasound revealed a baby that had grown a few days worth in two days and a heartbeat that was a little faster. The sack was still a concern, but the baby was alive. We were relieved.


That relief was short lived, though, and our nightmare began that Sunday (the last ultrasound had been on a Thursday) when my bleeding changed and got heavier/darker, and I began getting cramps in waves, much like every labor story I've ever read. The cramps were strong and painful, doubling me over at times, and continued for a few hours until I began passing tissue. We knew at that point that things were not good. The next morning they got us in for an ultrasound. It was torture sitting in the waiting room with all of the round pregnant bellies and happy, smiling babies when I knew deep down that I was losing mine.

The ultrasound confirmed our greatest fear: our baby was no longer living. It tore me up inside to see our baby on the ultrasound without that little flicker like we'd just seen a few days before. I sobbed uncontrollably on the ultrasound table while the sweet technician, full of compassion for us, tried desperately to find a heartbeat, but, of course, there was none. We were devastated. Our little precious baby passed away on August 27, 2012. A baby we'd never be able to hold. Whose face we'd never see, or laugh we'd never hear. But I will always keep his/her heartbeat in my greatest of memories. That baby's life mattered.

The eight months following our second loss were the darkest months of my life. I can remember that very few days went by without me crying. I remember many tears that were shed while sobbing uncontrollably on the bathroom floor while clutching our baby's ultrasound photo close to my heart. We had wanted that baby so badly, and the loss was devastating. I couldn't even look at babies or pregnant bellies for a long time. I had to hide every pregnant friend on social media, not because I didn't care and wasn't happy for them, but because it tore me apart inside to see it and was a constant reminder of what I no longer had but had lost. I could not see them without crying.

In March of 2013, almost 2 years after we first started trying for a baby, we began fertility testing at my OB office. I was diagnosed with PCOS and my husband's test revealed that his count was low. I had an HSG done (where they put dye in the uterus to verify that the tubes are open), which was "textbook" and everything looked beautiful. I was put on Metformin for the PCOS (which made me SO sick to my stomach for the first week or two, but was worth it if it brought us our rainbow). We were not happy to find that we had problems, but it felt good to have answers and a game plan. Hope was returning after so many dark months of feeling no hope.