Lucia Keller

Here we go! This year I am raising money again with the March for Babies YPB Team. 

The US remains one of the most dangerous places to give birth but together we can do better. For over 85 years the March of Dimes has been dedicated to researching and raising awarness on this very issues. To read more about my personal connection, see my story below. 

_________

It was a Friday. I went home early from work with a splitting headache. I didn’t think much of it because it was not that unusual. I get headaches. No big deal. This one though, turned out to be different. I was 32 weeks pregnant and it was not letting up. I couldn’t sleep it off. Hot showers. Ice packs. Nothing helped. After pacing all night long, the chiropractor’s office finally opened at 8am and I called begging them to fit me in. The doctor who answered insisted I called my OB. I immediately broke down in tears. 

The OBGYN on call said it was probably nothing but just to be safe I should go in and get checked out at the hospital. The hospital hospital. Though there were some more tears, I was already feeling better knowing they’d surely give me something to relieve the pain. My husband, David and I decided to make the best of it. A perfect practice run to time the drive. We took basically nothing with us and planned on heading out to brunch afterwards. Not a bad little Saturday.

David dropped me off at the same spot we had toured a few weeks before. I hadn’t registered yet. I had no bags. Because I wasn’t staying. It was too early. I had two months left to grow this baby!

We didn’t wait long. The first nurse we saw seemed annoyed. You get headaches a lot? You’re going to brunch? It seemed like a waste of everyone’s time....Until they took my blood pressure. Her eyes widened and her entire body snapped awake. Not a good sign when someone who sees this kind of stuff every single day can’t keep a straight face. It wasn’t good.

More nurses came in. Full on triage. Immediately they went into a sort of anti-seizure protocol and wrapped me and the bed in sheets for extra padding. They took blood for labs. And I got the first of two steroid shots to help the baby’s lungs develop more quickly. I was told I would have to pace these halls for hours when we toured but instead, we were rushed to a new floor. Straight to delivery.

This where it starts to get a little fuzzy for me and the days begin to blur together.

Once my vitals began to stabilize, it became a waiting game. Let's try to keep that baby in as long as possible. Anti-partum. Meaning I could be in the hospital until her due date. Something like 50 days. Better get comfortable. Then, quickly things turned when baby's heartrate became abnormal and was experiencing late decelerations. We had to prepare for a C-section. But again, the plan changed. Baby seemed to stabilize.

At a certain point preeclampsia turned severe. HELLP syndrome set in. Meds were maxed out and my organs were beginning to fail.

I had made it to Tuesday (33 weeks). Most likely the placenta was beginning to detach. I was induced to save both my life and my baby's.

I actually got a little sleep on Tuesday and to me, it seemed like I woke up early the next morning and it was time to push. Full of magnesium, completely out of it. My whole body was swollen 4 times the size. Baby girl Etta was born Wednesday 7:47 in the morning. Her dad’s birthday. She was tiny - just over 3 pounds and had an APGAR score of 1. The NICU team quickly did their thing to bring her to life as the rest of us held our breath.

On the third day we finally got to hold our stubborn and determined little girl. Over the course of the next 34 days Etta had to learn to breathe, regulate her temperature, suck, swallow, and eat on her own. We watched her grow gram by gram, day by day in the NICU. As I recovered and we tried to find a sense of normalcy, we learned to bathe, feed, and love our tiny little redheaded Etta - chords and all.

She proved to be one tough cookie and we were able to bring her home July 17th - two weeks before her due date.