Sunday July 19th 2009
I noticed decreased fetal movement all day long. I tried drinking juice and lying down for hours at a time. I was able to get Leo to move a little bit when I put headphones on my tummy and played music for him.
Monday July 20th, 2009
Monday morning I tried lying on my tummy in bed to get Leo to kick. He always would kick when I did that; he did not respond at all. At this point I called the high-risk OB office and left a message for the doctor on call (it was only 6:30am). I never got a call back. I then called my regular OB’s office at 8:30am and left a message for my doctor. I ended up calling back at 9:30am and was told to head down to the hospital to get monitored. We left within 20 mins and Scott met Nevaeh and I at the hospital. I was checked into triage in the maternity ward and they started monitoring the baby’s heartbeat. His heartbeat was steady around 140 beats per minute. As far as we could tell at that point Leo was fine. The nurse came back in after 20 mins and I could tell that something might be up. She said that they called my high-risk OB I was seeing and that they wanted me to head down for an ultra sound right away. I was then told I would be admitted for observation and IV fluids. We were told that they wanted more variation in the baby’s heartbeat and that he could be under distress. My blood pressure was measured at 160/96.
I quickly put on a hospital gown, got my hospital bracelet, and was put in a wheelchair. The nurse ran the entire way down 2 floors and across the sky bridge to the high-risk OB office. At this point I was freaking out knowing that something serious might be wrong. I called my sister and had her leave work to come get Nevaeh for us. She made it there right before we went in for the ultra sound.
As soon as the ultra sound tech looked at my placenta she showed us that it had started separating from my uterus. There was a large bleed between the uterine wall and the placenta. There was back flow in the umbilical cord which meant that Leo was not get as much oxygen and blood as he needed. Leo’s heart had already started to enlarge due to being over worked to compensate for the compromised cord blood and placenta. The Dr. came in, took one look and said to us, “this means you are having a baby today”. I immediately started crying and asked the survival rate for a baby 27 weeks and 6 days old. He said there was a 90% survival rate. Scott and I took a deep breath and started praying, hoping Leo had a chance.
The nurse then ran me back up 2 levels into the maternity ward where I was hurried into a hospital bed to be prepped for an emergency c-section. My regular OB came in and said how lucky I was that I came in that we caught it before I bled out or before the baby died in the womb. There were 20 nurses in the room prepping me. I had 3 IV’s put in my arms, clothes stripped off, forms signed, blood pressures taken…. Scott hurriedly sent a mass text message to everyone saying “they are taking the baby now by c-section” and then we were out the door to the operating room. The total prep time for my c-section was less than 12 mins.
I got in the operating room, shaking violently from anxiety, trying to hold back tears. There were 15 people waiting around; mostly from the NICU. I sat on the edge of the operating table while the anesthesiologist prepped my back for a spinal. I prayed that the Lord would spare my son, that he would some how make it through, and that I would make it back home to my husband and daughter. I asked through tears streaming down my face if the nurse would hold my hands as they stuck a 5-inch needle into my back wishing Scott could be by my side while I was prepped. Finally I was numb from the arms down and staring straight up into the brightest lights ever. My violent shaking grew worse and worse. The doctor announced that they had started and I began to pray. They finally brought Scott into the operating room and we both just cried and tried to think positive. We knew that Leo wouldn’t cry when he was born… he was just too small. The doctor pulled him out and he was immediately rushed next door to the NICU doctors. I immediately had Scott go see our son as the doctors diligently worked on him. I was left alone, tears streaming down my face, praying that God would get us through. It was the longest 20 mins of my life lying there open on the operating table waiting to be closed up wondering what my son even looked like, or if he was okay, or breathing. My violent shaking grew worse and I started throwing up all while I was being sewn closed.
I spent 2 hours in recovery, alone. I cried and was shaking, and asking for updates and anxiety medication. Finally Scott came in and said that Leo was doing okay, that he had a ventilator put in and that they had to put in an umbilical line to help regulate his sugar levels. As far as we knew he was doing okay for the time being. He was born at 1 lb. 13 oz. 12 inches long… he should have been 2.5 lbs and 16 inches long for his gestational age. The nurse had me start pumping even though it would be a long time before he was able to have my milk. At this point it had been over 2 hours and I still hadn’t seen my son.
They brought me to my room and started my pain meds. My grandma, sister Katie, & Nevaeh were there. Also our pastor had arrived. My sister Erin was on her way from Ellensburg and almost home already. We still didn’t know much about Leo, just that they were working on him.
Finally around 5:30pm I was wheeled down to see my son in the NICU. He was covered in tubes and IV’s. He was the tiniest thing I had ever seen. I touched his tiny hand and started to cry. He was such a miracle and all I wanted was for him to be okay. The doctor told us that his levels weren’t great and that our goal was to get him through the night. Leo had developed a level 3 brain bleed which is common for babies born at such low birth weight. We were told that the bleed could repair on its own, but no guarantees. We decided to call our pastor back and have him come baptize Leo. The little baptism took place in Leo’s incubator bed in the NICU. We couldn’t hold him, we just got to sit by and watch as the ceremony was preformed and water was lightly splashed on his tiny head. I felt some peace in my heart once the ceremony was over. I knew that God was with us through it all. We stayed in the NICU room, holding little Leo’s hand and telling him how much we loved him for hours. He seemed to be staying stable and doing the best he could considering the situation. Finally, we decided to go back to our room to get some sleep. The NICU nurse told us they would call if anything changed.
Tuesday, July 21st, 2009
In the morning I woke up at 5am and all I wanted to do was see Leo. I decided to pump again to make sure my milk would be coming in for our little guy. The nurses took out my catheter and cleaned me up so I could walk down to NICU. We got there and Leo was under the lights to help with jaundice. He looked pretty good and was responsive to us holding his hands. The doctor came it around 9am to tell us that his sugar levels were a little better but that his brain bleed had gotten progressively worse… actually the worse the neonatologist had ever seen. Scott and I both started crying. We asked what the next steps would be and she said “To take him off the ventilator and let him pass”. There was no coming back from a brain bleed as severe as this. Scott and I tried to hold it together as the news that our precious son was not going to make it sunk in. We called our family and had everyone who could come down to the NICU. The nurses kept his ventilator in and let us hold our son for the first time. He was so tiny and precious. He fit in the palms of our hands. I held my darling son close and thought about all the plans I had for him and how none of them would ever play out. I knew I would never hear him cry, or get to nurse him. I would never get to change a diaper or watch him roll over or crawl. The reality of what was happening was almost more than I could bear. It was an emotional couple of hours as visitors came in to see us with our Leo.
Around 6:30pm we decided that it was time to end Leo’s suffering and remove the ventilator. He had stopped opening his eyes a few hours before and was becoming less and less responsive. We knew it was time to let him go. Scott and I held our beautiful son as his heart slowly stopped beating. We told him how much we loved him and how much we already missed him. It was the hardest thing Scott or I had ever had to do. Leo’s heart stopped beating at 7:30pm. He died cradled in my arms. I will never forget how amazing my beautiful son was, or how he looked that day. I know that he is in heaven and is our little angel watching over us.
The hardest thing was dressing him after his death. They brought us an outfit that would fit him since he was less than 2 lbs. We got to dress him for the first and last time and wrap him in a blanket. Handing him to the nurse and then walking down to our room was the hardest thing ever. We had lost our son. How could this have happened? I was pregnant yesterday! How could this be happening? In an instant all we had planned and loved was lost.
Wednesday July 22nd, 2009
We decided we wanted to see Leo one last time before we left the hospital. We arranged to have him brought to a special viewing room so that our parents who weren’t there the day he died could also say goodbye. It was very emotional knowing you will handed your son who has passed away. Leo was just as beautiful as the day before. He was at peace. I am so glad we were able to say goodbye one last time. Tears flowed heavily in that room as the reality of what had happened sunk in for everyone. Scott and I finally had to let go of our precious son and give him back to the nurses. They promised to take care of him for us.
We went home an hour later without our son. We went back to a nursery filled with things for our baby boy and just cried. There would be no special homecoming, no baby shower, no baby announcements. Instead there would be a memorial and arrangements to be made. How will we get through this?
We are so thankful for the hours we got to spend with our little Leo. He was such a blessing in our lives. We love him more than ever and think about him always. Scott and I are so thankful for the amazing NICU team at Legacy Salmon Creek Hospital for everything they did. We could not have asked for a better team of people. The team was the most caring and personable group that we have ever dealt with. They went above and beyond to make sure we were as comfortable as we could be while taking the up-most care of our son.
We thank Amy Buma from Lasting Impressions Photography for her services. She is part of the Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep foundation and was there to photograph Leo’s baptism and final hours. Our family will treasure the photographs she captured forever.
Thank you to everyone for your prayers and support during this difficult time for us. We don’t know what we would do without you in our lives.
God’s Blessings to you all…
Scott and Kellene Maynard
I noticed decreased fetal movement all day long. I tried drinking juice and lying down for hours at a time. I was able to get Leo to move a little bit when I put headphones on my tummy and played music for him.
Monday July 20th, 2009
Monday morning I tried lying on my tummy in bed to get Leo to kick. He always would kick when I did that; he did not respond at all. At this point I called the high-risk OB office and left a message for the doctor on call (it was only 6:30am). I never got a call back. I then called my regular OB’s office at 8:30am and left a message for my doctor. I ended up calling back at 9:30am and was told to head down to the hospital to get monitored. We left within 20 mins and Scott met Nevaeh and I at the hospital. I was checked into triage in the maternity ward and they started monitoring the baby’s heartbeat. His heartbeat was steady around 140 beats per minute. As far as we could tell at that point Leo was fine. The nurse came back in after 20 mins and I could tell that something might be up. She said that they called my high-risk OB I was seeing and that they wanted me to head down for an ultra sound right away. I was then told I would be admitted for observation and IV fluids. We were told that they wanted more variation in the baby’s heartbeat and that he could be under distress. My blood pressure was measured at 160/96.
I quickly put on a hospital gown, got my hospital bracelet, and was put in a wheelchair. The nurse ran the entire way down 2 floors and across the sky bridge to the high-risk OB office. At this point I was freaking out knowing that something serious might be wrong. I called my sister and had her leave work to come get Nevaeh for us. She made it there right before we went in for the ultra sound.
As soon as the ultra sound tech looked at my placenta she showed us that it had started separating from my uterus. There was a large bleed between the uterine wall and the placenta. There was back flow in the umbilical cord which meant that Leo was not get as much oxygen and blood as he needed. Leo’s heart had already started to enlarge due to being over worked to compensate for the compromised cord blood and placenta. The Dr. came in, took one look and said to us, “this means you are having a baby today”. I immediately started crying and asked the survival rate for a baby 27 weeks and 6 days old. He said there was a 90% survival rate. Scott and I took a deep breath and started praying, hoping Leo had a chance.
The nurse then ran me back up 2 levels into the maternity ward where I was hurried into a hospital bed to be prepped for an emergency c-section. My regular OB came in and said how lucky I was that I came in that we caught it before I bled out or before the baby died in the womb. There were 20 nurses in the room prepping me. I had 3 IV’s put in my arms, clothes stripped off, forms signed, blood pressures taken…. Scott hurriedly sent a mass text message to everyone saying “they are taking the baby now by c-section” and then we were out the door to the operating room. The total prep time for my c-section was less than 12 mins.
I got in the operating room, shaking violently from anxiety, trying to hold back tears. There were 15 people waiting around; mostly from the NICU. I sat on the edge of the operating table while the anesthesiologist prepped my back for a spinal. I prayed that the Lord would spare my son, that he would some how make it through, and that I would make it back home to my husband and daughter. I asked through tears streaming down my face if the nurse would hold my hands as they stuck a 5-inch needle into my back wishing Scott could be by my side while I was prepped. Finally I was numb from the arms down and staring straight up into the brightest lights ever. My violent shaking grew worse and worse. The doctor announced that they had started and I began to pray. They finally brought Scott into the operating room and we both just cried and tried to think positive. We knew that Leo wouldn’t cry when he was born… he was just too small. The doctor pulled him out and he was immediately rushed next door to the NICU doctors. I immediately had Scott go see our son as the doctors diligently worked on him. I was left alone, tears streaming down my face, praying that God would get us through. It was the longest 20 mins of my life lying there open on the operating table waiting to be closed up wondering what my son even looked like, or if he was okay, or breathing. My violent shaking grew worse and I started throwing up all while I was being sewn closed.
I spent 2 hours in recovery, alone. I cried and was shaking, and asking for updates and anxiety medication. Finally Scott came in and said that Leo was doing okay, that he had a ventilator put in and that they had to put in an umbilical line to help regulate his sugar levels. As far as we knew he was doing okay for the time being. He was born at 1 lb. 13 oz. 12 inches long… he should have been 2.5 lbs and 16 inches long for his gestational age. The nurse had me start pumping even though it would be a long time before he was able to have my milk. At this point it had been over 2 hours and I still hadn’t seen my son.
They brought me to my room and started my pain meds. My grandma, sister Katie, & Nevaeh were there. Also our pastor had arrived. My sister Erin was on her way from Ellensburg and almost home already. We still didn’t know much about Leo, just that they were working on him.
Finally around 5:30pm I was wheeled down to see my son in the NICU. He was covered in tubes and IV’s. He was the tiniest thing I had ever seen. I touched his tiny hand and started to cry. He was such a miracle and all I wanted was for him to be okay. The doctor told us that his levels weren’t great and that our goal was to get him through the night. Leo had developed a level 3 brain bleed which is common for babies born at such low birth weight. We were told that the bleed could repair on its own, but no guarantees. We decided to call our pastor back and have him come baptize Leo. The little baptism took place in Leo’s incubator bed in the NICU. We couldn’t hold him, we just got to sit by and watch as the ceremony was preformed and water was lightly splashed on his tiny head. I felt some peace in my heart once the ceremony was over. I knew that God was with us through it all. We stayed in the NICU room, holding little Leo’s hand and telling him how much we loved him for hours. He seemed to be staying stable and doing the best he could considering the situation. Finally, we decided to go back to our room to get some sleep. The NICU nurse told us they would call if anything changed.
Tuesday, July 21st, 2009
In the morning I woke up at 5am and all I wanted to do was see Leo. I decided to pump again to make sure my milk would be coming in for our little guy. The nurses took out my catheter and cleaned me up so I could walk down to NICU. We got there and Leo was under the lights to help with jaundice. He looked pretty good and was responsive to us holding his hands. The doctor came it around 9am to tell us that his sugar levels were a little better but that his brain bleed had gotten progressively worse… actually the worse the neonatologist had ever seen. Scott and I both started crying. We asked what the next steps would be and she said “To take him off the ventilator and let him pass”. There was no coming back from a brain bleed as severe as this. Scott and I tried to hold it together as the news that our precious son was not going to make it sunk in. We called our family and had everyone who could come down to the NICU. The nurses kept his ventilator in and let us hold our son for the first time. He was so tiny and precious. He fit in the palms of our hands. I held my darling son close and thought about all the plans I had for him and how none of them would ever play out. I knew I would never hear him cry, or get to nurse him. I would never get to change a diaper or watch him roll over or crawl. The reality of what was happening was almost more than I could bear. It was an emotional couple of hours as visitors came in to see us with our Leo.
Around 6:30pm we decided that it was time to end Leo’s suffering and remove the ventilator. He had stopped opening his eyes a few hours before and was becoming less and less responsive. We knew it was time to let him go. Scott and I held our beautiful son as his heart slowly stopped beating. We told him how much we loved him and how much we already missed him. It was the hardest thing Scott or I had ever had to do. Leo’s heart stopped beating at 7:30pm. He died cradled in my arms. I will never forget how amazing my beautiful son was, or how he looked that day. I know that he is in heaven and is our little angel watching over us.
The hardest thing was dressing him after his death. They brought us an outfit that would fit him since he was less than 2 lbs. We got to dress him for the first and last time and wrap him in a blanket. Handing him to the nurse and then walking down to our room was the hardest thing ever. We had lost our son. How could this have happened? I was pregnant yesterday! How could this be happening? In an instant all we had planned and loved was lost.
Wednesday July 22nd, 2009
We decided we wanted to see Leo one last time before we left the hospital. We arranged to have him brought to a special viewing room so that our parents who weren’t there the day he died could also say goodbye. It was very emotional knowing you will handed your son who has passed away. Leo was just as beautiful as the day before. He was at peace. I am so glad we were able to say goodbye one last time. Tears flowed heavily in that room as the reality of what had happened sunk in for everyone. Scott and I finally had to let go of our precious son and give him back to the nurses. They promised to take care of him for us.
We went home an hour later without our son. We went back to a nursery filled with things for our baby boy and just cried. There would be no special homecoming, no baby shower, no baby announcements. Instead there would be a memorial and arrangements to be made. How will we get through this?
We are so thankful for the hours we got to spend with our little Leo. He was such a blessing in our lives. We love him more than ever and think about him always. Scott and I are so thankful for the amazing NICU team at Legacy Salmon Creek Hospital for everything they did. We could not have asked for a better team of people. The team was the most caring and personable group that we have ever dealt with. They went above and beyond to make sure we were as comfortable as we could be while taking the up-most care of our son.
We thank Amy Buma from Lasting Impressions Photography for her services. She is part of the Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep foundation and was there to photograph Leo’s baptism and final hours. Our family will treasure the photographs she captured forever.
Thank you to everyone for your prayers and support during this difficult time for us. We don’t know what we would do without you in our lives.
God’s Blessings to you all…
Scott and Kellene Maynard
Posts
Your story has truly tugged at my heart. I couldn't help crying while reading. My God bless you and your family now and forever.
ReplyDelete