Just two days before our ben was born, my husband and I were covering up a family vacation in Florida. We are both active-duty Army and had spent most of my pregnancy juggle demanding work schedules and field training. He was away for nearly two months, and during that time, I was working long hours while pregnant and caring for our one-year-old daughter.
At 35 weeks pregnant, we wanted one last peaceful getaway before becoming a family of four. But things did not go as planned.
Shortly after returning home, I received news that two of my soldiers had been in a serious motorcycle accident. Resolute to support them, I drove to Nashville to visit them in the hospital. At the second stop inside a warm ICU filled with strong smells and intense emotions I fainted. I landed forward, belly first.
Though I sued I was okay, the staff promptly took me to the ER for remark. Because I was over 20 weeks pregnant, I was sent up to labor and delivery. Nurse Mickey met me and informed me i had need to be monitored for at least four hours. I felt irritated. Work commitments, distance from home, and a packed schedule filled my head. But when Mickey mentioned that leaving without medical advice could affect cover coverage, I unwillingly stayed.
My vitals were normal, and baby’s heart rate looked steady. But the reduction monitor told a different story I had regular, painless contractions. I was not in labor, but they kept me overnight. I was upset but tried to accept it. My spouse arrived with a travel bag, and we got comfortable.
At around 10:30 p.m., monitors showed baby’s heart rate dropping. Nurses rushed in, tried adjusting the equipment, and gave me oxygen. I assumed it was just a fluke my first child had been hard to monitor, too. But then the OB walked in and gently said, “We should talk delivery options.” Within minutes, a team was calm, and I was being rushed into an emergency C-section under general anesthesia.
Ben was born at 11:06 p.m., just minutes after the call was made. He was tiny but alive 5 lbs, 9 oz. We later found out my placenta had partially detached when I fainted. If I had left that hospital, Ben likely would not have made it.
Today, I look at my healthy 8-month-old and think of Mickey, whose firm but kind words saved his life.
