The heavy weight of dread...

Friday I left work a little early, having decided to find some cabinets for my kitchen as I desperately needed some extra storage space. (I took out the bar-level coffee counter and put cabinets in its place.) I had reached my first destination and had been browsing no more than 10 minutes when I received a phone call from Dave, the spouse of my fabulous friend Becky. Although thinking it was a little strange to be receiving a call from Dave, I greeted him cheerfully only to learn that Becky had been hospitalized for signs of preeclampsia. I didn't know what preeclampsia was, but after Dave's reassurances that Becky was doing fine for the moment and they were merely waiting for labs and doctors to come around, I immediately called my mother and related to her the news then asked "is this bad?" Yes, indeed, it can be bad, depending on how severe an expecting mother has this condition. I immediately felt a leaden ball of illness forming in my stomach and the sour taste of fear coated my mouth. Now, I can appear to be amazingly calm at times but inside I'm usually a blubbering mess. I wait to break down until safely away from those individuals who need me to be strong. This was such the case with Becky & Dave. Throughout all of our conversations, I would calmly ask questions, reason with fears and try to ease anxiety, but once off the phone I'd call my mother and ramble about nonsensical things while trying to come to grips with my own anxiety and fears.

Anyhow, Becky couldn't have visitors on Friday night and so, on Saturday, I spoke to her several times by phone. I knew she would be undergoing labs and that another friend of hers would be visiting. Because the doctors wanted her to remain relaxed without the stimulus of many visitors, I opted to stay home and went to visit today, Sunday. I knew, from conversations with Becky last night, that the doctors were ruling out preeclampsia but they had other concerns regarding the fetus' development for which they were keeping Becky admitted a little longer. We all breathed sighs of relief as the fears of preeclampsia left our minds. She was amazingly calm about the possibility of nine-weeks of bedrest until the baby could be born safely. The doctors were to decide on Monday (tomorrow) how long her bedrest incarceration, as I like to call it, would last.

Dave & I went to retrieve Becky's car from the town in which she worked and then gathered some items for her from their apartment that she had requested. I stayed for a few more hours, talking quietly with her and/or just zoning out in silence as she rested. (If she behaved and kept her blood pressure down, they were going to let her take a wheelchair ride through an NICU tour.) As I left the room shortly after dinner, I stopped to speak to Becky's day nurse briefly and overheard the night nurse receiving orders for Becky's preeclampsia lab tests to be redone. I didn't think much of it, since they had already been monitoring her labs for over 24 hours. In hindsight, I should have stuck around a bit longer. I called Dave as I was leaving town and he dropped the bomb that the docs had reverted back to their original diagnosis. Becky had preeclampsia and they would be doing a C-section surgery sometime this week. His words sent chills up & down my spine as my mind grappled with the consequences of taking the baby this early. (Based on the ultrasound they had done on Saturday, the baby was about three to four weeks behind on development. They gave Becky steroid shots on Saturday in order to prompt the baby's lungs to develop more quickly.) Although they want to delay the C-section until Friday, in order to give the baby as much time as possible to continue developing, each day pushes Becky closer to the complications inherent with preeclampsia. The high blood pressure could eventually cause seizures as it continues to rise. Her liver & kidneys will bear increasing strain as it tries to filter fluids and could eventually fail. Although I'm still not entirely certain of all the ins & outs of this condition, the best description I read of it was that her body is rejecting the baby and, until it is born, her body will slowly & increasingly poison itself. I sincerely hope I read the information wrong because that ball of dread that formed in my stomach on Friday afternoon has only increased in size. This little guy will be a three-month premie and I know there are many dangers for premie births.

I feel so helpless because there is nothing I can do other than simply be there to hand over a Kleenex tissue, tell a joke to make her laugh, and reassure Dave that everything will be alright. I don't know if it will and that terrifies me. I'm as attached to this baby as they are and to think that he may not make it (he has a 70% chance of surviving, nearly 80% if they can hold out until Friday) paralyzes me with fear. This little fella has a lot of people rooting for him and I hope everyone's prayers will be heard because he needs all the help he can get!