The story of Baby Sage...
May 23, 2023 10:55 am 29.4 weeks pregnant. The blood wouldn’t stop hemorrhaging. Arriving via ambulance, they rushed me to a room and a team of women doctors stripped off my clothes. “Who is that in the room?” A woman loudly asked. “It’s okay, it’s my neighbor,” I said. My cool-as-a-cucumber neighbor sat by patiently, nervously taking it all in. “Sorry, Nida, you’re going to see a lot of me.” “That’s okay, she said.” Sitting quietly in a chair in the corner of the room. I saw the reflection from the light above me on the ceiling when they put a speculum in me, blood just gushed out like a waterfall, not helping them a bit. “Ugh,” I nauseously sighed. “Don’t look at the reflection,” a voice said. Blood, guts and needles are not my strong suit. At least 15 women were in the room, vigorously at work and all talking simultaneously - asking me questions and talking to each other - but the voices were too much for me to comprehend what was happening. My stenographer brain couldn’t handle it. “I can’t take everyone at the same time, please,” I politely squealed out. Everyone froze, got quiet, and all eyes were on me. This magical woman doctor calmly said, “you’re losing a lot of blood quickly. We don’t know how much you’ve lost before the ambulance got to you. You need a blood transfusion. And we need to get you in for an emergency c-section to save you and the baby’s life, and we may need to take out your uterus.” “Okay,” I said, calmly. “But will you put my uterus back?” “No,” she said. Then the chatter and chaos returned. I started sweating at that moment and felt quite dizzy. They asked me to sign consents as they whizzed me to the OR but I could barely keep my eyes open and asked if I could do it later. “Do you give a verbal consent to do a c-section and a blood transfusion?” “Yes, whatever you need to do to save us, please” “Did everyone hear that, she gave consent?” I was suddenly drenched with sweat and felt an uncomfortable tingle consume my body, like any minute I’d pass out… …or die. They whizzed me down the hall. The breeze from the speed of racing me to the OR and the touch of someone's cold hands on my face revived me slightly back in the moment. We got to the OR and another 10 people joined us. A surge of excitement coursed through me as I embraced the surreal atmosphere. It was like a scene straight out of a blockbuster movie. My thoughts were fueled with the exhilarating notion that this experience would undoubtedly become an unforgettable story to tell. But the simultaneous chatter was too much to process all at once. My brain was exploding. They were asking me questions and talking amongst each other before I could finish answering. Poking, prodding and pulling me from every angle and body part, my brain was spiraling. A blue tarp was draped over my face and an oxygen mask covered my mouth as a hand pinched my neck. “Am I dead?” And just like that, I was gone. 3 HOURS EARLIER 6:20 am It was a beautiful summer day in May. I jumped out of bed and into the shower. As I lifted my leg onto the ledge to shave I felt an uncomfortable pressure in my belly. “I sure don’t remember this discomfort this early with Stella.” Then a voice said, “make sure you get some Moderna for your c-section scar.” I didn’t understand that since no c-section was planned. And according to the midwives and doctors, I was in perfect health in my pregnancy. So perfect, in fact, the doctor told me I was going to finally get my water birth. That whole week I felt something just wasn’t right. I knew baby Sage was low and it didn’t feel the same as the first pregnancy at this point, not one bit. They say every pregnancy is different, but that just didn’t seem to be holding much weight with me at this point. Intuitively I sensed something significant was going to happen. This baby was going to arrive sooner than later. All I really knew is I wouldn’t be pregnant much longer. “Get ready, this baby is coming,” I told my husband. “You wish, you still have 2.5 months to go,” he laughed. Friday was my ultrasound and it was only Tuesday… But that ultrasound couldn’t come soon enough. There was a ton of movement from baby Sage and I needed to know what was going on in there. After showering I went to get dressed. My intuition was talking to me a lot this morning and now I was being advised to wear an easy-access, flowy dress. It was a work day and I wouldn’t normally wear the type of dress I picked. It was sleeveless, but comfy. I had promised myself going forward in life I’d always listen to my intuition instead of denying it, no matter what. The hippie-type dress I picked was from Walgreens and felt more like a tarp with straps. I was so pregnant and it was so comfy. It was perfect. Then I got my daughter up and the household started off our day. I poured some apple juice and couldn’t stop drinking it…it was so delicious. Me and Stella Moon danced to Mickey’s stretch break and then I got her off to school. I had two hours before my job started and Chubakka needed cancer meds, so I decided to take a little cruise to Hinsdale Animal Hospital to get him what he needed… …passing the exact hospital I’d be back at in less than an hour. When I got home I had some time to relax in the sun before I started my work day… My Aunt Robin called so I decided to bask in the sun on the deck with the dogs chit-chatting before we both had to get to work. I hung up around 10:05 and texted my other aunt, Gayle, who I just found out was in town. When I stood up to go log in to work I felt a gush of liquid between my legs. “Did my water just break?” I looked down, but it wasn’t water…it was blood…a LOT of blood…. Having this happen once before with Stella at 12 weeks my brain completely stopped working. “I knew this would happen,” was my first thought. With all the losses we had in the past, how could it not. “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry.” My deceased father kept repeating himself in my head with a sad, fast, worried tone. “Was I losing my baby?” “What would I do with all of the stuff in Sage’s bedroom?” “Would Stella Moon not have a sibling now?” “How was I going to explain this …to everyone?” I took a picture and sent it to my husband, mother, sister and neighbor hoping for some instruction. There were no words to explain what just happened. Stuck mentally, emotionally and physically, I had zero clue what to do. “I should probably grab the hose and spray myself off.” But with every step I knew that wouldn’t work because the blood wouldn’t stop gushing out of me. I called my husband at work, “Kelly, I'm bleeding, can you come home? I need you.” "Okay, I'm leaving right now," he said calmly. “Meet me at the hospital," I said, "I'll drive …or maybe take an Uber." "Okay," he said. “Are you sure?” Neither of us could think straight and he had no idea of the magnitude of what I was experiencing. I called the midwives. “I’m 29 weeks pregnant and bleeding like crazy, it won’t stop.” “Get to the Hinsdale OB ER ASAP,” said the woman on the line, "I'll let them know you're on your way." “Okay, thanks,” and hung up the phone. I knew I needed help, but I didn’t know what steps to take to access what I needed at that moment. My sister replied to the text, “Ambulance." “Ambulance?” I text back. "What is she talking about?" I was annoyed. Even the most obvious answers didn’t register at the moment. In my head I was thinking, “Maybe I shouldn’t drive…then I’ll have to park …but blood will be everywhere in the parking garage to the waiting room.” “Maybe I should put pants on, but how do I get upstairs to my closet without tracking all this blood?” “Maybe I’ll just call an Uber, but then I’ll ruin their car.” “Ah, but I have Chux pads in the basement, that will solve the problem… ….but how do I get to the box, open it, and grab enough Chux for the Uber without tracking all this blood?” “Then I’ll have to wait in the waiting room bleeding everywhere until someone can help me, trailing tons of blood everywhere I go.” I just couldn’t think. The only thing I could think of was to grab the kitchen towels to help soak up the blood… But within seconds each towel was soaked. “Note to self, get new kitchen towels.” Every thought that passed through my brain was focused on the wrong things. I tried to take a step but the blood clots and puddles had my feet stuck to the floor like glue. Every step I took was escorted by a surge of clots with blood pooling to the ground, smacking the floor with a gelatinous thud. I just couldn’t figure out what to do to literally save my own life or my unborn baby. “I don’t know what to do,” I screeched at my dog Chuey. He just patiently looked at me comfortably laying on the floor and put his head down. I took off my underwear, then the blood came streaming out of me like Niagara Falls. Remembering my neighbor was home and her husband is a doctor who I had just waved to merely 15 minutes ago, I called. “Nida, can you come help me? I’m gushing out blood and don’t know what to do.” She ran over quickly. Chuey sat calmly on the kitchen floor, but Bowie, the puppy, didn’t want her to come near me. “Bowie,” I said calmly, “please sit.” He was making the situation more difficult, barking at Nida who was trying to get to me, only dedicated to keeping her away from me. He was annoying me beyond what I could handle at the moment. I was unable to take a step towards him without more blood pooling out. The feisty little guy just wouldn’t listen. Every time I told him to chill more blood splattered onto the floor. When Nida finally got to me she was as cool as could be and she gave me a hug, “everything’s going to be okay.” She looked around at all the blood everywhere and then looked at me and sweetly said… “Okay. Soo I’m just gonna go ahead and call you an ambulance.” “Genius,” I thought! “Why didn’t I think of that 10 minutes ago?” Like when my sister text me… Nida started cleaning up the floor. I kept telling her not to, but she just did what she could to clean up what looked like a horrendous murder scene. While 911 was on the phone waiting with us for the ambulance to arrive I asked Nida to get my baby heartbeat monitor from upstairs. Once in hand I found Sage’s heartbeat immediately, 143, strong and good. “Now I can breathe.” Sage was still alive. The bag of waters had not broken, and this was the confidence I needed to not freak out. The 911 operator asked Nida if she could see the baby coming out. Like a true sport, Nida quickly got on her hands and knees to look between my legs to see if she could see the baby without thinking twice about it. “Nope, I don’t see any baby.” The doorbell rang. “Don’t worry, it’s just Amazon.” “Are you sure, what if it’s the ambulance?” “Oh, yeah, good point.” She hurried to the door and it was her husband and the ambulance arriving at once. I got Bowie in his cage pretty easily, but his high-pitched bark was so loud I couldn’t talk to the paramedics.. So annoyed and stressed by him, another clot splattered on the floor as I unsuccessfully hushed him. The paramedics escorted me to the door where the stretcher was waiting for me. It was nice to not have to think about anything, and now all my problems were someone else’s to deal with. The ambulance was full of male paramedics. Normally, I'd be shaking in my boots at the sight of male medical personnel, but in this wild twist of fate, I found myself flooded with gratitude. And we didn't just sit there in awkward silence. We chatted and giggled like a bunch of good friends all the way to the hospital. Who knew being rushed to the ER could turn into a joyride? “Do we get to use the sirens?” “You bet we do.” “Can we go to Hinsdale Hospital?” I asked, “they’re waiting for me there.” “They are? That’s great. Yes, we can go there.” “How far is Hinsdale?” The paramedic asked the driver. “6.3 miles,” I replied with a smirk. Everyone chuckled. Nida jumped in the ambulance and off we went. As I got situated in the ambulance I realized all I had was my phone. No shoes, no wallet…and no underwear. “Ah, don’t worry about it. You don’t need that stuff,” the paramedic said. Within minutes we had arrived. 4 HOURS LATER 1:40 p.m. “Am I alive?” “Is my baby alive?” “Do I still have my uterus?” “Is my husband here?” A woman’s voice said “yes, you and baby are alive and well and your uterus is intact.” Kelly popped up right by my side. “She’s beautiful. I saw her,” he said. My heart was finally at ease. But my body was in pain…a lot of it. They kept asking me if I wanted morphine and like clockwork, I kept denying it. Morphine was just another traumatic experience I was not trying to sign up for. Pain throbbed in my neck from the pushed-forward position it had been in. I felt like I had just been punched in the jaw and throat. I could barely swallow. My whole body was shaking and shivering uncontrollably. I was so full of phlegm in my throat, but clearing it was impossible. My ab muscles had abandoned me entirely, and the incision site felt like the worst burn ever. I was in so much pain. “I’m going to press on your bellow now,” the nurse said. “Please, no. I’m in so much pain, it hurts so bad, please don’t,” I cried, begging for more time. “I’m sorry, but I have to. You’re going to want to punch me.” “Please, please, no,” I cried. “Please, give me more time.” “You’re going to make me cry,” she said. “I have to check your belly every 15 minutes.” The pain was the second worst pain I’ve ever felt in my life. The first was when I was in high school and dropped a cinder block on my bare toe. I knew at this point I needed my mind control to assist me to make things as comfortable as I could get them. I needed a mental rehearsal for what was to come, and I needed to get to a state where the power of the mind superseded all else. Morphine wasn’t an option. The staff didn’t understand how problematic it would be for them and me if they gave me that stuff. Still, they kept trying to install the Morphine onto a drip but couldn’t figure it out. Almost 40 minutes and several people later, somehow 10 milligrams turned into 30 milligrams, and all I could think about was how I would OD and die… for real this time. No one understood the damage morphine would cause if it entered my body. And I wasn’t touching that drip that the nurse’s themselves couldn’t figure out how to work or set up. “Okay. Let’s just try 1 milligram, Angela. You’ll feel better.” “I really don’t think so,” I said. “I’ll be fine.” But she gave it to me anyway, and within seconds the pain subsided and the shivering stopped. A microdose of morphine. Who knew? By the next day I felt great, and everyone commented on how good I looked….even without a shower. I was ready for a massage and a nice clean shower. The morphine drip never got touched so my IVs came out the following day and I was walking around on my own. Tylenol and ice were all I needed to make things feel better. Doctors and nurses were all surprised how quickly I was getting better and were even more shocked that the Morphine had gone untouched. I knew I needed to get better fast and being a sissy was not an option. I meditated and did energy work on both myself and my new baby for hours. Sage’s APGAR was 8/9 out of 10, which was almost perfect. She was tiny and mighty and doing well. Little baby Sage couldn’t wait to make her debut. I looked up her birthday in my Birthday Book to get to know a little bit about her… “Enthusiasm and impulsive expressions may put them in harm’s way,” and “their self-sacrificing nature often neglects their own health when they’re determined to achieve their goals and desires.” Sage clearly couldn't wait to make her grand debut into the world. She has a bedroom to check out… A big sister to play with… Mom and dad to hang with… Baby Sage wasn’t waiting around a minute longer than she had to, even if it meant being in the NICU. To Sage it meant she had finally arrived and could now start her life. She exudes an enchanting aura of magic and perfection. Her remarkable strength, unwavering resilience, and tenacious fighter's spirit leave me in a state of awe and admiration. My heart is full. Everything is perfect in our world. Except if I could only get a shower and something other than hospital food, I’d be golden. Sage Love Rainbow Michael Kelly Loisi Laphen 5/23/23 | 11:13 am | 3.3 lbs | 15.3 inches | Born 29.4 weeks
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