Pulmonary Embolism

A month ago, I would not have had any clue what a pulmonary embolism was.  But a lot of things have changed in the past month.

The week after Carter was born, we spent our days getting ready for his funeral.  It was a surreal experience - I went from eagerly awaiting my son to planning his good-bye.  The abruption and delivery left me physically and emotionally drained, so when I started to tire easily I didn't think much of it.

The morning of Carter's funeral I took a shower with the water as hot as I could stand it.  I cried and cried until I couldn't handle the water anymore.  As we got ready for the day, I started to feel light headed and dizzy.  I chalked it up to the hot shower and my dread for the day.  As the day wore on, I felt worse and worse.  I tried to push how I was feeling out of my mind. It was my son's funeral - I had to be there.  I had been looking forward to seeing him since I said good-bye at the hospital.   I needed to see him.  So I went on with the day.

After the funeral I found myself with a line of people wanting to hug me.  I am thankful for all of the support, but by the end of the hug-line I could barely stand.  I snuck away to sit with a friend as soon as I could.  Sitting with her, she told me that "the friend in me wants to give you a hug, the nurse in me wants you to go to the doctor".  As I sat with her, my vision got blurry and my heart started to race.  The parish nurse checked my blood pressure which was elevated but not dangerous.  Once again, I chalked it up to the day.

The next morning as we were getting ready, I gave in to my symptoms.  I could barely see, and was extremely dizzy.   After dropping Liv off at daycare I had Shawn bring me to the ER.

After some tests and a scan, the emergency room doctor came in and told me that I had clots in my lungs. I still didn't understand what a big deal this was.  Pretty soon I had my midwives (and an angel named Dawn) checking on me, and everyone was telling me how lucky I was that I had come in.  At some point it hit home that a PE was not to be taken lightly.   I have never been so scared in my life (and still am).

That first night in the hospital was rough.  All I could think about was Shawn and Livie.  I don't know how to articulate all the thoughts I had that night, but I am thankful that the heparin did what it was supposed to do and thankful that I got to the hospital in time.

Going forward, I need to be on warfarin for 6ish months.  That seems like an eternity.   I feel like my life will be in a holding pattern for the next six months.   Blood tests (for clotting disorders) need to wait until I am off of the warfarin and the hematologist won't even discuss a possible future pregnancy until the results are back.

I don't know where to go from here.  Even though I am not emotionally ready for another pregnancy, everything in me wants to be pregnant yesterday.  I know it is the hormones and my heart's desire to be snuggling my sweet baby, but I can't shake the need to plan for another baby.   But I am not healthy.  I need to take time - time for my body and heart to heal.   I am struggling to accept that this is my life now.  My son died and I am not healthy.  How did I get here?