My Pregnancy Story: The Journey Through Danger and Discovery
My Pregnancy Story: The Journey Through Danger and Discovery
Pregnancy is a beautifully intricate journey that often comes with its own set of challenges. For me, it started off relatively normal, but it took a startling turn as I entered my third trimester. Looking back, I can see multiple layers of complexity, uncertainty, and essential health factors that shaped my experiences, including mild preeclampsia, which later escalated, and the shocking diagnosis of Factor V Leiden that could be linked to my use of birth control and a subsequent pulmonary embolism. This article is a reflection on that journey and the critical health decisions that followed.
A Normal Start
At the start of my pregnancy, things proceeded according to plan. I felt good, my appointments were uneventful, and I got to enjoy the excitement of preparing for my first child. However, as I approached my third trimester, my experience took a sudden turn. During my routine visit to the OBGYN, I was shocked to learn that while I should have been measuring ahead, I was actually measuring two weeks behind. To add to my concern, my blood pressure was slightly elevated, which set off alarm bells.
The Preeclampsia Diagnosis
Shortly after that appointment, I was diagnosed with mild preeclampsia, a condition characterized by high blood pressure and potential complications that can arise during pregnancy. The moment I received that diagnosis, a cloud of anxiety settled over me. My doctors' goals shifted quickly: first, I needed to make it to 37 weeks, then, after further evaluation, to 34 weeks. The sentiment around me was clear; we were in a race against time to protect both me and my unborn child.
As days turned into weeks, my condition worsened. The infrequent yet severe headaches I had dismissed now morphed into a life-threatening situation. On September 21st, what began as a minor headache spiraled quickly into intense pain, alarming symptoms of trouble breathing, nausea, and an ominous sensation that my lungs were filling with fluid. The pain was so overwhelming that my doctors feared I might be having a seizure. I was quickly put on oxygen, a moment that I still recall vividly.
Timeline of Events
Date Physical Symptoms Medical Action
September 15 Protein in urine Hospital admission
September 21 Severe headache, elevated blood pressure Readmission for monitoring
September 22 Severe pain, trouble breathing Oxygen support, monitoring
September 23 Critical situation Scheduled for emergency C-section
The Arrival of Zoey Grace
By the morning of September 23rd, waiting was no longer an option. I was scheduled for a C-section, and by 5:39 AM, my daughter—Zoey Grace—entered the world at only 31 weeks and 4 days gestation, weighing a scant 2 lbs 10 oz and measuring 16 inches long. Everything felt surreal. Although relieved to meet her, the fear bubbled just beneath the surface; the odds weren’t easy for a preterm baby.
She spent her first two days in the NICU before issues arose once more. Doctors discovered she had developed a pneumothorax (collapsed lung), necessitating her transfer to another hospital better equipped to handle such complications. I prayed that she would heal quickly, and thankfully, with the dedicated care of her healthcare team, her lungs healed without the need for a chest tube.
After days of intense monitoring, setbacks, and moments of worry, I finally got to take my baby home—10 days before her due date. The joy I felt was profound yet juxtaposed with the anxiety of our earlier ordeal.
The Unexpected Twist: Factor V Leiden and Pulmonary Embolism
Fast forward to February of this year—seven years later—and I discovered another alarming health revelation. I was diagnosed with Factor V Leiden, a genetic condition that heightens the risk of abnormal blood clots, which led to a pulmonary embolism. The link between my use of birth control, a potential family history, and this diagnosis became alarmingly evident.
"Sometimes the journey of motherhood brings with it challenges beyond expectation. Understanding our health is key to navigating these waters."
I discovered that some forms of birth control can increase the likelihood of blood clots, especially for women who have pre-existing conditions such as Factor V Leiden. Consequently, I had to make swift lifestyle changes, including exploring alternative contraceptive options and starting a regimen of blood thinners to prevent additional clots. My healthcare team guided me through this process, helping me find ways to juggle motherhood while being more vigilant about my health.
Conclusion: A Journey of Resilience and Reflection
Reflecting on my pregnancy story, I realize it encompasses much more than the awe of bringing a new life into the world. It is also an intense examination of health, risks, decisions, and the power of awareness. This experience has empowered me to educate myself and others about the potential risks associated with birth control, pregnancy complications like preeclampsia, and genetic conditions like Factor V Leiden.
Navigating the twists and turns of motherhood has shaped not only my approach to health but also my understanding of the world around me. It has taught me the importance of awareness, the value of informed medical decisions, and the strength that emerges from adversity. I hope that by sharing my story, I can encourage other women to become proactive advocates for their own health and well-being, especially during such a transformative time as pregnancy.
To the Father I Used to Know: An Open Letter to Healing
To the Father I Used to Know: An Open Letter to Healing
"The wound is the place where the Light enters you." - Rumi
This isn't the kind of letter you're likely bursting with excitement to read, Father. It's not a letter filled with joyful updates or eager pronouncements. Instead, it's a necessary excavation of the past, a difficult exploration of the hurt you inflicted on me, a child yearning for your love and guidance. This letter isn't intended to wound you but to heal the fragmented pieces of the inner child that continues to bear the weight of your absence and broken promises.
From a very young age, your expectations loomed large. Academic excellence was paramount – anything less than a B was unacceptable. My desire to express myself through chorus was met with the demand that I join band, further solidifying the idea that my desires were secondary to your preordained path. It wasn't until your second marriage that I experienced a sliver of freedom, a chance to be myself, but even that came with stringent conditions. My identity had to be confined within the rigid boundaries of heterosexuality and a specific racial preference for romantic partners. This seemingly small gesture of autonomy came at a steep and unimaginable price – the loss of my innocence.
Your focus shifted towards your new bride, leaving me adrift in a sea of confusion and loneliness. The guidance I desperately needed, the support that should have been a constant in my life, vanished. I was left to navigate the treacherous terrain of adolescence alone, relying solely on my own immature understanding of the world, the experiences of a child thrust into circumstances far beyond her grasp.
One devastating night, a single poor decision spiraled into a nightmare. Too intoxicated to consent, I became a victim of a violation that stole my sense of safety and security. The profound pain that followed forced me into a desperate search for solace, a misguided attempt to numb myself from the unrelenting trauma that replayed relentlessly in my mind. The emotional wounds festered, finding release in self-destructive behaviors that eventually became public.
My pain, once internalized, poured out, raw and unfiltered, met with the harsh judgment and cruelty of my peers. Accusations and questioning rained down like daggers, piercing my already vulnerable heart. There was no sympathy, no attempt to understand, just a torrent of condemnation. My desperate cry for help culminated in a night of suicide watch, a stark testament to the depth of my suffering. But instead of compassion, I faced accusations from you, suggesting that my pain was a ploy orchestrated by my mother to gain custody.
My mother, a woman who bore the unspoken burden of my trauma, never once questioned my integrity or my truth. Yet, you, the man who should have been my rock, met my vulnerability with suspicion and mistrust. The evidence of my suffering, the very essence of my shattered spirit, was dismissed and disregarded, ripped from me like a heart torn from its chest.
Following this, I was pushed to the periphery of your life, relegated to the edges of your existence. Eventually, I was abandoned, left with nothing but bags of discarded clothing, miles away from everything I had ever known, silenced and dismissed, denied the opportunity to even address the man I once looked to for guidance and protection.
Our connection dwindled to infrequent phone calls and sporadic visits. Yet, the distance remained, an invisible wall erected between us. You pushed me into the military, believing that a rigid structure would mold me into a woman worthy of your trust. But again, I was left alone in the darkness, carrying the weight of my trauma like a child clutching their most cherished toy. My desire to serve, to protect others from the horrors of war, ultimately fell short. The trauma proved too heavy a burden, its shadow obscuring the path toward my dreams. My honorable discharge should have been a moment of relief, a testament to my resilience, but its impact was muted. The validation I craved, the acknowledgment of my efforts, the sense that you were still proud of me, never quite materialized.
As the seasons changed, so did the years, but I was unaware that another storm was brewing. I encountered a new kind of predator, a narcissist who was calculated, vengeful, and relentless in their abuse. Like a fly ensnared in a spider's web, I was trapped, unable to escape, unable to be rescued, not even by the father I once knew and desperately needed.
This letter, Father, is not intended to inflict pain. It is a desperate attempt to explain the depth of the hurt you caused, to shed light on the shattered remnants of the child I never truly got to be. It's a plea for healing, a hope that through understanding, through the articulation of this long-buried pain, the little girl within me can finally find a measure of release, a fragile path towards wholeness.
