My pregnancy started like any other, morning sickness galore on top of cravings. Everything was going great until I went in for the quad screening to test for Down Syndrome. Later that day I received a call from my doctor ordering that I come in, so I did. What happened when my mom and I got there wasn’t expected. I found out one of my levels was too high; we did an ultrasound and found a curl in my placenta known as a circumvallate placenta, and the curl was causing fluid to leak.
At that moment I became high risk and was seen every week. Pregnancy was not easy for me. I was in and out of the hospital and constantly worrying about my son. Thirty-six weeks came around (on a Monday), and I developed preeclampsia over night. We were scheduled to be induced that Thursday at 3 a.m.
That’s when it got worse. I got to the hospital, was hooked up to my IV and given Cervadil. While I was trying to sleep, I suddenly couldn’t breathe, and my stomach was hurting. I woke my mom up to help me roll over. She helped and then went to the bathroom. At that time my nurse came in, and when I asked to roll over again, she said, “I’ve already called your doctor. In 20 minutes you’re going in for an emergency C-section. The baby’s heart rate is dropping, and he can’t handle labor.”
My mom and I started crying. I had to be put to sleep because an epidural would’ve made the situation worse. At 5:41 a.m. my son Bryson John-Cruse Lindsey was born, weighing in at 7 pounds, 11 ounces and 19.5 inches long.
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My placenta was sent off for biopsy, and the results weren’t good. There was an undetected blood clot on my placenta. If it had dislodged, it would’ve gone to either my lungs or brain, and my son and I would not be here (at least I wouldn’t). If I were ever to get pregnant again, it would happen again, and the chance of me not surviving would be even higher.
But I’m OK knowing more kids are not in my future. I’m a single 21-year-old mother to a beautiful little boy who teaches me how to love more and more each day.
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