My official due date was supposed to be January 4, 2011. The day before Thanksgiving I went in for a normal checkup and everything looked good except for the fact that I had gained a whopping 15 pounds in the last 2 weeks. Yes, you read that right-- I was so swollen I barely recognized myself. Joe wondered if I could get any bigger... Thank you, honey. Just a huge baby? A possibility... As I was about to leave, my doctor asked me how the baby's movement was. Actually, I had noticed that it had decreased in the last week...but I had been really busy, so maybe I just wasn't paying attention. He wanted to do a non-stress test on the baby, so I went ahead and did it and then left. I figured he'd call me if something didn't look good. I got the call while I was driving home. "I don't like the looks of that test." He told me to count the baby's kicks after dinner that night. He needed to kick at least 5x within an hour after eating. I was sick... I was scared... I knew something wasn't quite right. I got the 5 kicks but then felt nothing until 4AM. The doctor told me if I had any doubt, to go to the hospital. I went the day after Thanksgiving and never left. Apparently the baby's tracing was no good. His heartbeat was strong, but he was not moving inside of me. The hospital is about 40 minutes away from us. I love it there. I delivered Kate and Jake there and really wanted to stick with them even though we had moved to Pleasanton. My mom happened to call while I was in the hospital getting checked and I told her where I was, but she didn't need to come down, because I was doing fine. I really was calm, and there was a part of me that really believed they would check me and send me home. Then my doctor arrived and a Stanford perinatologist. When they said this was serious, I began to shake and I wished I had told her to come down (they are only 10 minutes from El Camino Hospital). I didn't want to be alone. I was terrified. I called Joe and told him he needed to get the kids to my sisters house because I wasn't leaving. The next thing I knew, they were wheeling me into another room to do more tests...as the nurse and I turned the corner, there sat my mom, dad, and Chris--I wasn't alone. I cried as my mom explained that she had a feeling they needed to get in the car and come down to the hospital immediately. I cried even more when Joe arrived. I could face whatever was coming with my family by my side.
After plenty of tests, the doctors looked at me and said, "Do you have any questions about C-sections?" What?!!! Yes! I wasn't planning on a C-section, let alone having my baby 6 weeks early! From there, it was really a whirlwind. Before I knew it, we were in the operating room and I was having an emergency C-section.
LUKE MICHAEL BERRYHILL was born on November 26th at 4:08PM. He was 5 pounds and 18.75 inches long. He came out silent and once again, I panicked for those long seconds that felt like years, until I heard a scream. I saw his little face for only a moment and then Joe rushed out with him as he was taken to the NICU.
My sweet little baby boy was apparently trying to help me when he was in utero. My placenta wasn't the healthiest and Luke was doing his best to try and clot the bleeding that was going on inside of me. He was using up all of his energy, platelets, WBC, and bone marrow to try and fix me. As a result he was barely getting the oxygen he needed to survive and didn't have any reserves to rely on.