Grief

366 days ago, my water broke. 367 days ago, Maggie was born 14 weeks early, weighing 1 pound, 9 ounces.

One year.

My life changed. My dream of a fat pink baby born in the summertime was lost.

Looking back, I feel like I should have acknowledged the signs. I do this for a living, for goodness sake! I was uncomfortable all week. I kept holding my growing belly, saying "God, this round ligament pain is for the birds!" A year ago today, I was on the phone with my mother, laughing because I felt 2 contractions. One in the morning, one in the afternoon. She, of course, panicked. And I remember saying "Jesus, Ma! I'd KNOW if something was wrong!" One of our receptionists caught me holding my belly by the back counter at work and said "I don't like the way you look. I'm worried." And I rolled my eyes, and said "Please, Megan, RELAX!"

I went home from work, one year ago tonight, plopped myself on the couch, and whined to my husband about how uncomfortable I was. I went to bed early, thinking I had overdone it at work all week.

I woke up at 5am. It was one of those times where you dream you're in pain, but when you wake up, you're not sure. I woke up from a dead sleep in pain. I got up, and went to the bathroom. The pain went away. I noticed alot of discharge. I was too tired to turn the light on to look, to sleepy to care. I went back to sleep. I got up again a couple of hours later, and laid in bed, again whining to Dan about how I didn't feel good. I wanted to stay home from work. We both decided it would be better to save my vacation time for after the baby arrived. "Push through it now, and I'll have more time at home later," I remember saying.

I drove to work. Talked to my two best friends, Beth and Liz, on the way in. I remember telling them both that, while I was uncomfortable, I really felt pretty good, and was happy that I was just starting to show. I had shopped for maternity clothes, and was finally ready to wear them. When I arrived in the office, I went to the bathroom again. I noticed alot more wetness and discharge. If I am being honest, for one split second, I knew. I knew my water had broken. But as quickly as I realized it, I convinced myself that I was crazy. Of COURSE my water hadn't broken! I was only 26 weeks pregnant. I was still feeling strange, and I remember telling my medical assistant that I woke up on the wrong side of the bed, and that I hoped we would have an uneventful day because I "wasn't in the mood".

I saw patients all morning. I remember walking from the back exam room, to the front desk, and holding the bottom of my stomach. I felt so much pressure, and a little pain. By 10:30, I was still leaking fluid, and it was enough to bother me. I casually mentioned it to a nurse, and asked if any doctors were coming into the office for afternoon hours. When Elaine told me it was Dr. Kolter, I thought "Oh GOD, I CANNOT have Jim examine me! How embarrassing!" Elaine said she thought that if it was enough for me to bring it up, that I probably should get checked out. The staff and I had ordered salad and pizza for lunch that day. I sat in the office, halfway through my piece of pizza, picking at my salad, when Elaine said Jim was ready for me. "Can't I just finish my lunch first??" I asked. "Come on," she said, "Let's just get it over with."

I lay on the exam table with my feet in the stirrups. Jim came in the room, and I immediately began making excuses, telling him how I was sure it was nothing, how embarrassed I was. I was completely in denial. I watched Elaine's face as Jim did the exam. Her face never changed, she never looked at me. But she pursed her lips together ever so slightly, and I got scared. "Where's the paper? Let me see the nitrazine!" Elaine held up the once yellow paper, now a dark navy blue stained from my amniotic fluid. "Now, this is equivocal," Jim said, "Plenty of other reasons for it to turn color. You know that." They left the room to look under the microscope. I sat on the table, like a good patient. I breathed in and out, knowing that he would come in and tell me that I had a vaginal infection, or that the wetness was just urine. But there was still that part of me that KNEW Maggie and I were in deep trouble. I KNEW. I JUST KNEW.

Elaine and Jim walked back into the exam room. Elaine wouldn't look me in the eyes. Jim leaned back on the counter, facing me. "I'm glad you had me check," he said, "You ruptured." The whole room sort of spun. I put my hand to my forehead. I kept saying "Oh shit, Oh shit, Oh shit." Jim told me I needed to go to the hospital. I asked how long I would have to stay. He said until the baby came, but maybe I would be on bedrest for a while.

I tried to call Dan at work. There was no answer. Elaine tried too. Still no answer. Finally, I got my mom. "Don't freak out," I said, "My water broke." We finally got Dan on the phone. He was closer to the hospital than I was, so I would meet him there. Jim's wife Pam came to get me at the office and drove me to the hospital.

The rest of the day is a blur. My friend Mel was the attending on L&D that day. She was 24 weeks pregnant at the time. We were SUPPOSED to have our babies together over the summer. She hugged me, I was shaking so hard. "I'm so scared. I'm so scared." "I know," she said, "I know you are." Nobody could tell me "It's going to be ok." Because we all thought the worst. My parents came to the hospital. My boss came over from the office to check in on me. "I DID promise to work right up until my water broke, Steve. Remember?" We all sort of chuckled uncomfortably. I was transferred to Lankenau by ambulance; Paoli couldn't take a baby less than 32 weeks. It was rush hour, and the ride between hospitals was RIDICULOUSLY long. I asked the EMT's to put on the lights and sirens. Unfortunately, I didn't count as an emergency...

We nicknamed my hospital room "Camp Maggie". I was going to be on bedrest for 6-8 weeks, at which time, if I went into labor, we wouldn't stop it. Every hour that she stayed in was good for her. The neonatologists came to see us. They gave us the percentages: 70% chance of survival. I told Dan that I didn't want "heroic measures". I cried when I realized I would have to ask the team NOT to resuscitate my baby.

I was eerily calm. When Beth called later that evening, she asked if I had been given any Valium or anything, because I was TOO calm. I think I was just in shock. Or denial. Or both.

I'm not ready to relive Maggie's labor and delivery here. Maybe someday. But not tonight.

I am usually pretty good about knowing that Maggie was "meant" to be here, was "meant" to come in the way that she did, was "meant" to be MY baby. But tonight, I struggle with the grief. I struggle with the guilt. I look at her feeding tube, I watch her cry when we try to feed her, and I can't help but beat myself up. I KNEW. Deep down, I KNEW there was something wrong. But I didn't say anything. I kept denying it to myself. But I KNEW. I will never forgive myself for that.

I hope that, one day, Maggie will forgive me.

~Sara