A Moment with God

Knock Knock

My night nurse had come on shift earlier in the evening around 7:30pm. She was a bigger lady who had tightly curled hair settled on the top of her head, bright pink lipstick and what appeared to be clogs on her feet. Her thick European accent was hard to understand but her no-nonsense tone was very clear. Her real name was something very European, but we nicknamed her Helga. Helga was adamant that I get up to use the restroom. I told her I would let her know when I was ready.

She would say with her accent, “Ok, ven I come back, zen you will try.” and so around 9pm I gave it a try.

Barely, able to sit up or stand on my own, she helped me out of bed slowly. Step by step, I started to make my way to the bathroom.

I told her, “I don’t feel very good,” and I gripped her wrists hard.

She encouraged me, “Just a few more steps to sit down.”

I felt an overwhelming dizziness wash over me and I groaned, “I think I’m going to faint,” as she swiftly sat me on the toilet.

I was spinning. I closed my eyes and it was worse. I opened them and saw her face. She was speaking to me, her lips were moving but I was terrified because I heard absolutely nothing.

Frantically, I said “I can’t hear you!” over and over. My eyes grew wider with terror and suddenly it was dark.

Code Blue

Now this part is told largely from Kevynn’s recollection as I did indeed collapse completely unconscious moments after I panicked to Helga. Helga took me from the toilet and set me on the floor and then bolted out of the bathroom to hit the code blue panic button tucked securely behind my hospital bed. The intercom echoed into the hallways as the robotic woman repeated, “Code Blue Room 17”. The alarm set the entire maternity floor in motion. At least thirty medical professionals exploded through the doorway into our room.

All of them then were piling into the tiny bathroom with one clear objective: keep me alive. 

There’s no way to know how much time passed as I lay unconscious and not breathing on the floor. I was unaware of all of it and Kevynn was in complete shock holding our precious baby girl outside of the bathroom door watching this all unfold. She has to be okay. He told himself that over and over and tightened his hold on our little girl.

Dr. Mel was one of the people who had raced into my room and she took charge in that moment. She readied at my side to perform chest compressions and miraculously, as she was about to begin, I regained consciousness. I opened my eyes seeing at least a dozen faces all looking at me. I saw my legs being held straight up into the air by a nurse. I remember feeling the cool cement floor beneath my almost naked body.

I remember someone saying, “Let’s get her back into that bed” and true to my form, I had something to say about that. I told them I wanted to lay there a little longer.

Dr. Mel was right beside me on the floor. She grabbed my hand and said, “You gave us quite the scare there.”

I nodded and closed my eyes. Then they were telling me that they were going to get me back into that bed. I was not able to move and they feared I would collapse again. So they used a white netted hammock/sling contraption to hoist me off the floor back into bed. As this crew of doctors and nurses worked to lift me, Dr. Mel tried to release my hand but I wouldn’t let her. In fact, I tightened my grip as if the hold I had on her hand would somehow steady me in that moment.

Once back in the hospital bed, most people filtered out back to their posts and work, except for six or seven nurses and doctors who stayed behind. All gathered around my bed. Helga proceeded to do a blood pressure check. My collapse was concerning. I explained how I had fainted once before when I was much younger and very ill as if that offered some reasonable explanation for what just happened. With Helga checking all my vitals, nothing was lending any clues as to what happened. My blood pressure did not show anything out of the ordinary. My fever was still present. My heart rate was fine. At that time, Helga decided to insert a catheter as I had yet to use the bathroom. It was uncomfortable but necessary in that moment. Dr. Mel was still on my right side, still holding my hand. Kevynn was standing beside her and holding Lilly with fear very present in his eyes. The medical professionals discussed what they believed was going on. As they talked, I scanned their faces for answers. At the foot of my bed, I saw a familiar and comforting face. It was Jessica. She waved and said, “Hi Ashley”. Meeting the eyes of all of these concerned yet kind faces left me feeling humbled, comforted, safe, and surrounded. I knew that God had put them there on purpose, there is never any coincidence with God. Even without a solid answer for what had just happened, I knew things had to be ok because God is always in control. Eventually everyone but Helga and Dr. Mel left. I was feeling nervous to be in the room alone and did not want Dr. Mel to go.

I was still holding her hand.

Code Blue Two

Dr. Mel, Kevynn and I continued to talk and muse. Helga had been looking on the computer screen at my chart and gasped as she asked, “You has latex allergy?” and I nodded in reply.

She then became wide eyed and said, “Oh my! I must remove catheter.” Turns out she had inserted a latex catheter and well some swelling had begun so removing and then reinserting another was quite painful. She then slapped a huge red sign to the door that read “LATEX ALLERGY”, I wondered why that hadn’t been there from the start but I honestly, couldn't even care about that. There were bigger things to worry about. I was feeling overwhelmed. I looked into Kevynn's eyes to find some sense of peace and his face grew in concern.

"Are you feeling okay?” he asked me.

I recall feeling absolutely fine in that moment.

With worry in his voice, he quietly said, "You don’t look so well.”

It was then I am told, I lost consciousness again. Kevynn recalls how he noticed that I had lost all colour in my face moments before which was where his concerned question had come from. It was then that Dr. Mel had to finally release my hand to hit the code blue button. Again the intercom echoed loudly through the 7th floor, “Code Blue Room 17, Code Blue Room 17, Code Blue Room 17”. The flurry of doctors and nurses were on their way yet again. It was then that Kevynn backed away from the bed with Lilly pressed to his chest as he watched helplessly. It was then that Helga frantically strapped an oxygen mask on my face, missing the first time but anchoring it the second time. It was then that a team of nurses who had burst into the room hurried to detach me from the wall/monitors/IV drips. It was then the thought of losing me flooded Kevynn’s mind and he began to panic. This cannot happen. This cannot be happening. What is happening?! And his mind ran away from him.

As the nurses quickly began wheeling my bed out of the room, I regained consciousness for a split second where I saw my beautiful baby sleeping in Kevynn’s arms. It was his face that was burned into my memory at that moment. His eyes were flooded with trepidation and he was scared. If I had had a moment to process this, his fear would have sent me over the edge into a panic because Kevynn doesn't often show his emotions but right then, he was afraid. I lost consciousness again. I had returned to the darkness.

Regaining consciousness shortly as my hospital bed was being raced full speed ahead through the hallways like a runaway train, I took note of the nurses who flanked each side of my bed hustling me through the hospital back to the operating room. One nurse kept glancing back at me frantically shouting,

“Ashley! Ashley! Can you hear me? Stay with us! We’re almost there. Ashley!”

I kept going in and out of consciousness.

Lights were flying by above me.

I Want My Mom

It was just after 11pm when my mom’s phone began to buzz on her nightstand. Groggy with sleep and confused by the noise, she picked up her phone and unexpectedly saw Kevynn’s name and face staring at her from the screen. When she answered his startling call, she was barely able to get a hello out before Kevynn’s agitated words were crashing into her ears.

“I need you to come back to the hospital!”

As reality set in for her that something must not be right, his urgency reverberated again through the phone.

“They took Ashley away! Her heart stopped twice!”

This sent adrenaline coursing through my mom’s body. She quickly assured Kevynn that she would be there as soon as she possibly could. She needed to grab some things, pack up her dog and drop her off at our house with our dog and then she would be there. Quickly my mom shook the cobwebs of sleep from her mind and tried to stay calm. It was ok. Ashley is ok. She is strong. She will be ok. God’s got her. Not really knowing what was fully going on, this was all that she could tell herself. As she packed her bags, a small piece of fear crept in and took hold of her. She couldn’t fathom that I might not be ok or that she might lose me. She had already lost my father and this was all too familiar. The late night phone calls to family members, the midnight trips to the hospitals, the code blues. As calm as she tried to remain, my mom broke herself open and pleaded with God. Do not take her. Lilly needs her mom.

The Drive

Regaining a sense of peace after giving her fears to God, my mom packed her things into her Jeep. The snowfall had gotten heavier, the winds had picked up and visibility was, well, there was no visibility. Driving anywhere in the dead of winter, during a storm, in the middle of the night is not a good idea. My mom doesn’t love winter driving on a good day and this set of weather conditions was making her feel anxious. She had been on the road for all of fifteen minutes when her phone began to ring, again. It was Kevynn.

“Where are you?” he pleaded. "No one is telling me anything."

My mom tried to reassure him and asked about Lilly. She told Kevynn to try to rest and she would be there as soon as she could. She knew he was completely overwhelmed. For the rest of the drive, my mom prayed and prayed. Knowing my dad was in Heaven already, she knew I was going to be surrounded by God’s army no matter what was going on.

I'm Here

When my mom stepped into our maternity room, Kevynn immediately stood up from where he had been sitting in the rocking chair and walked towards her. With outstretched arms, he handed Lilly to my mom.

With equal parts relief and panic on his face, he said, "I have to go find out what is going on."

As Lilly continued to sleep, my mom sat down herself in the rocking chair beside the massive hospital room window. Quietly, the snow continued to fall outside. My mom looked at Lilly's face and felt a sense of peace. It was then that she heard my dad's voice.

"I'm here.”

Feeling reassured, she rocked and rocked with Lilly. Not knowing how long Kevynn was gone for, when he returned he had no news to share. He paced the room. He seemed to be unravelling. Lilly was stirring and beginning to fuss. She was hungry. What do we do? Where is Ashley? We need to feed Lilly. There is no breastmilk. My mom and Kevynn wrestled with these questions and decisions. Neither of them really knowing what to do.

Keep Her Alive

It was like something out of a TV medical drama series. The chaos. The panic. The rush. The not knowing. The ‘let’s do anything and everything we can to keep this person alive even if it seems illogical’. So much happened all at once it is hard to discern what happened when, however, the chaos seemed orchestrated and organized. Everyone seemed to know exactly what to do and where to be. All of it happened so fast.

The first thing I remember is noticing the blinding lights of the operating room when I regained consciousness. Three overly large light pods hung over the operating table and washed everything with a crisp white light. Hurriedly, they lifted me from my hospital bed and slid me onto the operating room table. I remember the thunk with which I hit the operating table. Scissors frantically cut the hospital gown off my body leaving me feeling rather chilled in just my nursing bra. Anxious thoughts flew through my mind. What was happening to me right now? Was I even supposed to be awake right now? Don’t they put you to sleep in these situations? Was I going to die? Was I having surgery again? Was I dreaming this? Was I having an out of body experience? I felt scared and became quite cold as I stared up into the beaming lights while nurses ran about around me.

I heard one nurse shout, “Get the Bair Hugger on her!”

I liked the sound of a bear hug in that moment but that wasn’t what they were talking about. The Bair Hugger, I later learned, prevents hypothermia and is always used in preparing a patient for major surgery. They needed to keep me warm because my body was going into shock. A nurse came up on my right and I could see her face. She grabbed my hand and told me her name and for some reason, I cannot seem to recall it (and I have tried and tried).

I remember saying to her, “Please don’t let go of my hand,” and I remember the gentle look she gave me and she said, “I won’t.”

All of a sudden, another nurse came up from behind me on the table and I could see him and he said, “Ashley, I am going to put this on your face and I need you to breathe.”

I stared up at his upside down face. The faces of these people seemed to anchor me here. Like as long as I could see people, I was going to be ok. The nurse put the oxygen mask on my face and I tried to focus on my breathing. I closed my eyes just for a moment while I could hear drawers opening in haste, packages being ripped open, wheels on carts quickly rolling across the floor, I felt my arms being swabbed with alcohol from wrist to bicep. Then I heard the ever so familiar voice of Jessica, the anaesthetist. She was behind me somewhere and I couldn’t see her. She had started to take complete charge of the OR. Her voice was oddly reassuring as she dictated commands to the others and verbalized everything she had begun doing. Jessica called out that she was administering some drug of some name in some amount. Then another nurse said she was hanging a bag of something else. Someone else said she was administering something else. I recognized none of the names of these medications. I couldn’t even care that more substances were flowing through my body. I knew I didn’t have a choice. I knew these medications were likely absolutely necessary in that moment.

Then I heard Jessica say to me, “Ashley, you’re going to feel a lot of little pokes, ok?” and then she and some other nurses set to work on each arm.

One nurse said she was administering lidocaine. I felt a dozen or so pokes all over both arms but I knew what that drug was. It would numb my arms because it is a local anaesthetic. The nurse holding my hand told me they were about to insert a bunch of IV lines.

Someone called out, “I need a 16 gauge,” and another yelled, “I need gauze.”

Someone shouted, “I need tape.”

My arms were under siege. Every poke was felt but there was no real pain thanks to the lidocaine.

Jessica called out, “Inserting art-line,” and I remember wondering what that was.

Whatever it was, it was proving quite difficult for Jessica at first and I could feel pain with this one. She was becoming flustered with it. She lost her cool ever so slightly in that moment and I felt my anxiety creep in. If she was flustered maybe I should be flustered, too. I didn’t know it at the time but the art line stood for arterial line. This IV needle was inserted into an artery in my wrist and was to continuously monitor blood pressure, allow for easy access for quick blood draws and to monitor my blood gasses. They are only used in critical care scenarios. I also had two massive IV lines (16 gauge ones - which is a rather large needle) in each elbow crook’s largest vein along with two smaller ones in nearby veins. Jessica eventually got the art-line in and I wondered what I could possibly need all these IV lines for.

Meanwhile, the one lovely nurse still stood at my side holding my hand. I would open my eyes every so often and look at her. She would tell me, ‘You’re doing great, Ashley, just hang in there.”

As they continued to poke my arms, Jessica yelled and it alarmed me. She had remained quite calm up until now. Even as flustered as she had become with the arterial line, she continued to command the room and keep everything flowing with her calm yet exacting voice. Except, now I could hear the panic.

“I need that blood! Where is it?”

Someone echoed, “It’s coming! Thirty minutes out!”

I remember thinking then that maybe all of this pandemonium was because of the blood I lost earlier today or yesterday or whenever that was. I probably just need needed a little top up of blood. That’s all. Plus, Dr. Mel wasn’t even in there. How bad could it be? I can do this. I’ve got this. They can do this. They’ve got this. I reached out to God in that moment. God, please guide them and give them the wisdom and tools they need right now and Lord, please give me strength. I took a deeper breath feeling quite certain I was going to be ok.

But then Jessica shouted with intense alarm, “We don’t have 30 minutes! She needs it now! Why is it so far out?” and then panic ensued.

What I gathered from the conversation that immediately followed amongst the nurses was that the order for blood was put in as I was being wheeled down to the OR but it was not received properly by the blood bank so it was re-ordered as I arrived in the OR, which made for the delay, one that I apparently did not have time for. Then Dr. Mel arrived in the same hurried manner as everything else going on and asked for an update. I was happy to see her. She would fix all of this. She came up on the left side of me and was talking to Jessica and the others when the doors crashed open and a nurse called, “It’s here!”

Most of the nurses rushed away from my bed. I heard one dictating “Receiving 7 units for Ashley Hansen.“ Then the nurse was spelling my first name, my last name and reciting my birthday. I could hear such bustle around me. I heard them say something about the blood being O negative, something about hemoglobin, something about platelets, fibrinogen amounts, whole blood, calcium concentrations, red blood cells, frozen plasma, and so many others. I kind of panicked hearing all of that. Mostly because I am actually O positive and I thought they were going to give me the wrong blood type which meant (in my mind) that I was certainly going to die. I figured in all the chaos, they made a mistake!

I squeezed the hand of the nurse who was holding mine and said with such concern, “I am O positive!” and she nodded and said, “Ok…” like she was not sure why I was telling her this fact.

So with some force, I said, “No, tell them I am O positive!” and very gingerly she spoke.

“Everyone, Ashley would like you to know she is O positive.”

I was annoyed. Didn’t she understand this incredible error!

I said, “Aren’t they going to give me the wrong blood type?” and then she saw my concern and explained that O negative can be received by everyone. OK, phew! I clearly missed that lesson in Biology 20. I breathed a huge sigh of relief and felt mildly embarrassed at the same time. Then I remembered one of the nurses had said SEVEN units. That sounded like a lot of blood. I just had to trust in that moment that they knew what they were doing.

And they did.

Sort of.

Where is the Blood?

Dr. Mel spoke next and said, “It isn’t going to matter if we can’t find the hemorrhage,” and someone asked Dr. Mel, “You’re sure she only lost 1.3L earlier?” 

Dr Mel replied, “Yes, we soaked it and weighed it.”

Jessica corroborated with, “Her hemoglobin was fine after surgery.”

Then someone asked with both confusion and concern, “So where is it?” 

Remember when I told you that normal hemoglobin levels were between 120-160g/L and that I was sitting at 118g/L post-surgery? What I would later learn is that hemoglobin below 80g/L is considered critically low and a blood transfusion is absolutely necessary. The blood draw they did after my code blue showed my hemoglobin levels to be at 60g/L as I entered the OR (which is lower than critically low) and at 45g/L right before the transfusion (which is bordering cardiac arrest/respiratory distress). That was why I had been losing consciousness, I was severely hemorrhaging (bleeding internally) somewhere in my body, with very little hemoglobin left and they had no idea where it all was. It was then that I started to really panic.

Dr. Mel called another OBGYN who was at home but on call that night. Her name was Dr. Kennedy (Again, not her real name). She came as quickly as she could. Dr. Kennedy would later take care over me during my lengthy hospital stay and she would tell me that when she arrived to assist in the OR, she was profoundly aghast at how white my feet were laying on that table.

She would tell me, “I’ve never seen a person so white before.” and that it was scary for her. 

Now that I had two OBGYNs in the OR, I felt alarmed that I needed two doctors to figure out what was going on. Then I felt grateful I had two minds instead of one to figure out what was happening. 

The most logical explanation that Dr. Mel and Dr. Kennedy could come up with was that my uterus was somehow still hemorrhaging after the D&C procedure. The problem was that if that was true then my Bakri balloon collection bag would be FULL of blood. Unfortunately, it indicated no additional blood loss in the uterus at all. Aside from the slow drainage that they’d been monitoring all day, there was no change there. So they were positive it had finally clotted. So again, the question was, "Where was I bleeding? Where was all of this blood?" There was no swelling or discolouration of my body anywhere else. They used their hands to feel my abdomen and found nothing. For them, it was like finding a needle in a haystack. They simply could not find this hemorrhage. All the blood that was going in with the transfusion was currently continuing to come right out. It all felt so futile. All the while, my sweet baby girl slept in room 17 in the arms of Kevynn and my mom, while they paced and waited to hear from someone about what was going on. It was going to be hours before anyone heard anything. Lilly was getting hungry. She wanted to nurse. She wanted me and I wasn’t there.

Down in the OR, someone asked “So what do we do?”

They decided to try an ultrasound. A technician wheeled in a mobile ultrasound machine not moments later and did a scan of my body that found, no surprise, nothing.

“What if it’s sepsis?” Dr. Mel questioned the team? “There is no indication of that in her labs.” answered a nurse.

“We have to do a CT.”  Dr Kennedy said.

“But the transfusion isn’t done,” Dr. Mel countered.

As I listened, my eyes searched each of their faces for answers of my own. My eyes scanned the room for someone to meet my eyes, for someone to offer a glimmer of hope, for someone to show a sense of confidence in this situation. I saw confusion. I saw perplexing looks towards each other. I saw a little bit of desperation.

Then Dr. Kennedy was looking at Jessica with an ounce of hope, “How much longer?”

Jessica estimated about twenty minutes or so.

“Ok. Call CT and tell them we will be there in twenty and get her ready to go.” Dr. Mel instructed.

“Keep all the lines open and keep this room as is. CT isn’t far. We do the scan. They’ll find it and we will know how to proceed, if they don’t we’ll have to open her up and find it ourselves. Notify the blood bank...”

I tuned her out. I simply could not continue to listen. I closed my eyes and tears slipped from my eyes trailing down my cheeks.

“Ashley, just breath” the nurse holding my hand said.

I did breath or at least I tried to. I felt the rise and fall of my chest. I was beginning to really panic. The nurse holding my hand heard my breath quicken and she squeezed my hand in reassurance.

Jessica saw my eyes, full of fear. She asked me, “Ashley, do you like music?” and then she set her phone next to my ear and said, “Listen to this and tell me what you think!”

It was a simple and subtle distraction and I listened intently. I said, "I like it," but I didn't really care. I implored my body to show them the answer. I began begging the music to just take me away. The song was actually quite a powerful one. The drum kept with the beat I felt in my own chest. I was overcome with emotion, suddenly. Was I going to make it? Was I going to die tonight? How could I die tonight? I had my sweet baby girl waiting for me. I recognized that my panic was not going to be helpful to me or this team of people in this moment. I had to get a grip on myself. So I did my best to focus on the song. I tuned out all of their continued hypothesizing of where it could be and what was going to come. I turned myself over to God in that moment. The one person who is unwavering is times when waves of emotion threaten to overtake me. I have always been one to be straight with God. He knows me to my core anyways, so I don’t bother with sugarcoating my prayers or my conversations with Him.

“Am I supposed to die tonight?” ever so bluntly I asked Him. I waited and waited for that ever-so-clear direction from Him that usually settles soundly in my soul and there was nothing. I reached further for Him, asking again. “God, am I supposed to die tonight?” Still, nothing.

Then I reached for my dad. Maybe he was there with me. He would surely come if I was dying. If I was dying though, wasn’t I going to see a light? Wasn’t Jesus supposed to take my hand? Wasn’t I going to get a glimpse of heaven? I implored the vast feeling of emptiness with every fibre of my spirit, “Someone, please, just help me!”

When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze.

Isaiah 43:2

The further I reached, the quieter it got. Then it was like a soft current ran through my body lifting me up. I felt free. I felt weightless. I felt a resounding joy and big love in my heart. I kept reaching closer and closer. I felt tranquility surround me with an ultimate understanding that this was exactly what Heaven felt like. Absolute serenity. All was quiet, calm and still in that moment. I felt the presence of God like a warm hug surround me. Powerful, gentle, stabilizing, protective.

His presence emanated the words, "I've got you.”

Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified because of them, for the Lord your God goes with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you.”

Deuteronomy 31:6

I rested in that moment, in the hands of God and what a beautiful place it was. It was then I heard my dad's perfectly clear voice, "You're going to be ok, honey."

I felt safe, secure and surrounded. It was then that I felt this nudge from God, telling me that remaining in this space was my choice. God was not ‘calling’ me home. He gave me a small sample of the harmony one feels in Heaven and it was glorious. It was amazing to feel so free of the burdens that life brings. It was absolutely joyous to feel the presence of my dad so strongly. How I had missed him. It was humbling to be in the presence of God and ALL that He is and I could choose to remain there. The balance scale tipped ever so slightly in favour of staying in Heaven. It was then though, that God showed me her face.

It was the only thing I actually saw and I saw it so clearly. It was Lilly’s perfect and angelically sleeping face. I could see every detail - her little lashes, her tucked bottom lip, her rosy cheeks, and there was a complete sense of love and belonging that surrounded her. I could feel the pull between absolute and utter peace in Heaven and the calling of my little girl in this world. I’d like to say the choice was glaringly clear to me in that moment but it wasn't. The tranquil joy that I felt versus the depth of love that I had for Lilly was equally strong. Ultimately though, I couldn’t bare to leave her here in this world. She was the greatest gift that God had ever given me. In that moment, I chose her with every fibre of my soul. With that decision, my eyes actually flew open to the blinding lights above. My awareness of the OR returned and I could once again hear the song Jessica was playing for me. The beat of the drum reverberated through my body and settled in my heart again. I could feel my strength was renewed and I faced the uncertain energy in the OR with a new sense of purpose and calling. I was going to live. Faith was flowing through my veins and the love I had for my little girl was about to conquer all that was unknown.

God is within her, she will not fall; God will help her at break of day.

Psalm 46:5

The CT

The trip to the CT scan was as hurried as could be. They had to find the hemorrhage before all of that new blood flowed out. They quickly hoisted me from the operating room table into a hospital bed to transport me. We didn’t have to travel too far to get there but the nurses wheeled me through the hallways rather quickly. I didn’t have to wait when we arrived in the diagnostic imaging area and they were ready for me as soon as we wheeled into the CT room. The tech met us and went over the procedure with me and asked if I had any questions. I asked if the contrast dye was safe for me because I was breastfeeding my newborn baby. Lilly was at the forefront of my mind. He assured me all was safe as the nurses lifted me off the hospital bed and onto the CT scanner. As I was being positioned in the machine, the CT tech explained that because I had a catheter in almost 75% of the dye would be out within a few hours.

He added again while they all left the room for the scan, “It is completely safe.”

I cried upon hearing the word safe.

The machine started up and I thought about why the mention of the word safe triggered me into hysterics. I realized that it was all I wanted. I wanted safety for myself and I wanted to be that same safety for Lilly. More than anything, I just wanted to have my sweet baby girl in my arms and on my breast. How I missed her and how I ached to be with her. I imagined how she must be feeling and what was happening upstairs. I couldn’t continue to think of her up there without me because my mind was going to tell me the worst and I couldn’t bare to accept that she would be in any kind of distress. I switched my train of thought to hoping that this scan was providing some kind of helpful clue as to what was going on. Within moments, the table was sliding out of the machine and team of nurses from the OR were back in the room, lifting me off the CT scanner and back onto the hospital bed.

No one told me this then, but the CT scan had showed the source of the bleeding. My uterus had continued to hemorrhage after they inserted the Bakri balloon. There was no immediate indication because a small clot had formed inside the drainage tube so only small amounts of blood seeped through into the collection bag. The dye allowed them to see the flow of blood and they initially concluded that an artery must have been hit during the procedure and it had continued to hemorrhage for hours after the surgery. While I continued to bleed internally, the wound was now almost fully clotted meaning the bleed was slowing. That meant that the blood transfusion was going to be largely successful as much of the blood did not end up hemorrhaging out.

Because I was still bleeding internally, and I just received an incredibly massive and rapid blood transfusion, and had developed a critical condition called DIC (disseminated intravascular coagulation) — I needed 24/7 monitoring and critical care for the next three days because the chance of my survival with the development of DIC was grim. For context, 20-50% of patients with a DIC diagnosis will die which is why DIC is known as “Death Is Coming”. DIC is a clotting disorder that can arise in response to sepsis, retained placentas, and traumas and is challenging to medically manage and often leads to multi-organ failure.

“Ashley, we are going to take you to ICU,” one of the nurses said to me as she lifted up the arm of the hospital bed and began pushing the bed into the hallway.

When I arrived in ICU, I asked the nurses who had been my personal track team racing my beds through the hospital if they were staying with me and they told me that a specialized team of nurses would be taking over. I didn’t really like that. I wanted them to stay. They had been with me through all of that. A doctor came in immediately and reviewed everything with them before they left and they briefed the new team that was taking over. I glanced around the room, I couldn’t see much aside from some cupboards because I didn’t have my glasses with me and my eyesight is awful. I could see a clock but couldn’t read it. I asked one of my new nurses what time is was. She told me it was just after 4am. I quickly did the math to realize that I had been away from Lilly, Kevynn, my mom, and our room for almost six hours. Just then, Kevynn raced through the doorway with a yellow PPE gown on into to my room with tears in his eyes. He grabbed my hand and rested his head on my chest and sobbed, “I didn’t think you were going to make it.”

With tears pouring from my own eyes, I said, “I didn’t either.”

He stayed with me for a few hours and had told me Lilly was asleep with my mom upstairs. During that time, a nurse brought an electric pump for me to get some breastmilk for Lilly when she woke. After an hour of Kevynn and this nurse fiddling with this pump to only realize it was broken, they got another one that actually allowed me to pump off two bottles worth for Lilly. I felt relieved. She would have milk. Kevynn had shared with me that they had had to give her formula though because she was so hungry while I was in the OR and no one had come to update them and they didn’t know what was going on. I was disappointed for a while over the formula but what was I going to do about it? It was done and she was fed. I trusted that the breastmilk she had had prior and this milk she would have now would reduce any adversity in her little digestive system.

I worried that her having so many bottles though would create a preference for them and breastfeeding would be hard to re-establish. I felt so defeated. But a few bottles weren’t going to hurt right? Another nurse came in with a machine that she attached to the end of my ICU bed and she wrapped these pads around my legs that she fastened tightly with velcro. She turned the machine on and the pads on my legs began to constrict and relax in different places. It was like a personal leg massager. I had to wear them for the next three days as I recovered to ensure all the new blood that was flowing through my veins wasn’t settling anywhere as I remained confined to my ICU bed, completely sedentary. I think I slept for just a tiny bit that morning before the sun rose. When the sun was up, Kevynn went up to the maternity floor to get Lilly and my mom.

Except, he didn’t come back.

I waited and waited and wondered what was going on. I was alone in that ICU room, all day. A few times a nurse, who always wore full PPE (gowns, masks, gloves), came to check my monitors, draw blood, get me water to drink, etc. Morning wore on to afternoon and I was crying. Okay, I was fully sobbing in a complete mental and emotional breakdown as I helplessly lay in that ICU bed.

The charge nurse (the one who oversees all the other nurses in the ICU) stood in my doorway and asked with such concern. “Ashley, are you okay?”

I cried out, “No! I want my baby!”

“What do you mean? Where is your baby?”

I explained that she was upstairs with my family. That I hadn’t seen anyone for hours and she looked absolutely stunned.

She said to me, “I will fix this! No baby should be without her mama.”

I later came to find out that because my fever had remained and held constant throughout that entire surgical and life-saving ordeal, they now were convinced I was extremely contagious with something largely infectious and no one could enter my ICU room. They told my family that I was in quarantine. That’s why the nurse was wearing full PPE. I learned that when Kevynn had first come to see me they asked him to wear a gown and facial PPE and he refused all but the gown. He had one mission in that moment and that was to get to me. They were refusing ‘visitors’ because they didn’t know what kind of infectious disease I was dealing with.

Thankfully, the charge nurse went to bat for me. Within an hour Kevynn returned and with him, he had our sweet baby girl. It was hard for me to take her in my arms because I had so many IV lines still in. I was told they would remain in until they knew for sure I was in the clear and would not need another transfusion. So Lilly just snuggled into my chest, her most favourite place in the world and immediately wanted to nurse. Without hesitation, she latched and I cried with relief and joy that I was able to feed my baby girl. I had worried I wouldn’t be able to. After all, breastmilk is created from blood supply and well mine had been severely shorted not so long ago. As she suckled into the night, she remained on my chest in my hospital bed and that is how we slept. She had been apart from me for eighteen hours total and I prayed to God that the trauma of all of this would be mine to carry, not hers. I prayed that none of it would have any lasting effect on my precious baby girl.

ICU

Even though my fever persisted and they were convinced I was infectious, they had lifted the quarantine order and my mom was thankfully able to join us the next day. Bringing emotional support for me as well as fully cooked meals, she made the days a lot easier for Kevynn and I. She brought essentials like my toothbrush and hairbrush (even though using those things was extremely difficult for me). I was confined to my hospital bed with my leg massagers still circulating blood through my legs and my IV lines all attached to monitors. Thankfully y’all, ICU beds are so ridiculously comfortable. The mattresses cave in all the right places so there is actually zero pressure placed anywhere on the body, so I was never uncomfortable from laying in bed. Lilly would lay with me in bed to snuggle, sleep and nurse. Kevynn would hold her or my mom would rock her. Nurses would come and check on me and administer antibiotics, hang my calcium drip, give me my blood thinner injections, draw blood for labs, flush all my lines and check the monitors whenever they beeped. During my ICU stay, I had the loveliest nurse, Henrietta (by now you know, that's not her real name.) Her accent took me all the way back to Oklahoma the moment she said hello. It was Georgia, she had told me, where she grew up. Her southern sweetness made my days in ICU so much brighter. I absolutely loved when she would come in to the room.

She would greet me every time with her southern drawl, “Hello Miss Ashley,” or “It’s just me, Miss Ashley,” and she would ask me “Is there anything I can do you to make you more comfortable, Miss Ashley?”

Southern hospitality is a real thing, y’all. Henrietta’s whole presence made everything somehow seem all right. She always wore her dark, black hair in a low bun and always had an ankle length skirt on. She was so gentle with all my IV lines. She asked me questions about my life and Lilly. She told me stories of her family and childhood times. She would change my bedsheets and pillows. She would bring me warm blankets. She would help me brush my teeth. She was the only nurse who offered me a sponge bath. I don’t ever wish for any of you to be in a position to need a sponge bath, but if you are, I pray you have a nurse like Henrietta to do it. Henrietta ended up being my day nurse for the majority of my time in ICU and I am forever grateful to her and her kindness. After being in ICU for two days, they told me that in order for me to leave, I had to pass a test. Those of you who know me know that I’m kind of an over-achiever and so I was ready for this. I was feeling confident that no matter what the test was, I could do it. So what was the test? Oh, you know, just let them deflate and then take the Bakri balloon out of my uterus (the one applying the pressure to the bleed) and not hemorrhage again.

Cue panic.

Continue reading Part III of A Moment with God here.

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