This is part of my story I haven't been as vocal about. It's still always there on the edge of my mind. But that mind can only handle so much right now. So things are stored in messy boxes all over my memory. Sometimes they spill over if I ignore them too long. This is one of those things I'm trying to ignore because thinking about it too much makes it something that you will never move past. I almost died. I am a 'miracle' case. I am the "I've never had a patient come that close to dying, and live."
That's hard to live with, knowing those things. Experiencing what happened. Trying to be grateful the worst day of my life wasn't even worse. Wasn't the last day of my life.
So today I am going to break down that entire day. Not for anyone else but me. These are intense events & emotions, this is a big post. Read ahead with warning.
On May 19 I was surrounded by people celebrating Anna and myself. It was a long day, and I was laying on the couch feeling a little crappy. I went to bed early but feeling overall amazing still. I woke up in the early hours of May 20, which isn't uncommon in the last days of pregnancy. I felt sick in my stomach. But I had had pneumonia and other sickness a lot during this pregnancy. I chalked it up to that, and my exhaustion put me back to sleep a few hours later. I woke up early and fed the kids. I let Brandon sleep in that morning. When he came down at about 9am I was seeing spots in my vision. This is also not uncommon for me. I get the same thing before a migraine. It's called an aura, and its a warning. It was meant to be a bigger warning but I discounted it. I made Brandon take my temperature because I felt like I was off. It was normal.
I went to try and relax, I ran a bath and started reading a book I had been waiting to release. It was about 10 min into the bath that I realized Anna wasn't moving. She loved dancing in the bathtub. Especially when the heat was opposite of the ice I was crunching. I started to notice it. I am not new to pregnancy. I know over reacting and I know I am an anxious person. I got a cold glass of orange juice and laid for ten minutes on my left side. Nothing. Stillness.
I threw on one of my favorite softest dresses and told Brandon I was just going to go to the urgent care and make sure nothing was wrong. I didn't say bye to the boys, I just waved at Brandon through the french doors of his office as I walked out the door. I thought she would move on the drive and I would laugh and think, see Alissa all of this for nothing.
I got to the urgent care near our house and was turned away immediately. 34 weeks, thats full term, they couldn't admit me because it was likely going to result in the birth of a baby and they weren't equipped for that. I walked to the car after being directed to go to the hospital. I called Brandon. We had done this once already. An ER visit was going to be an expensive way to be told, everything is ok. He almost said don't go. I know he struggles with the guilt of that, and the repercussions of what could have been. I Sat int he parking lot debating it myself. I thought I felt a single kick. I thought, there you are silly girl, don't make me worry, we will have years of worry ahead of us still. I waited for another but it never came. I decided we had better go get that answer.
I got on the freeway. I called my mom and she answered. I was crying. I wasn't ready to have a baby yet. It was early, what kind of scary things would lay ahead if she came early. The NICU, my mom not being here, Brandon not being with me on this drive. I was upset, but I had no idea that my worst fears for that day, would have been the BEST case scenario. I did not speed to the hospital. I have a deep rooted respect for rules and didn't feel that I was in that danger. I did not park in the emergency because I did not think I was that case. I stayed on the phone with my mom. I walked in the doors to radiology, no one was there. I didn't know where to go to find Labor & delivery. I followed a LONG hallway, looking back I could have died there and no one would have found me for a long time. I got the elevators that looked familiar and walked inside it without having to wait. I was still on the phone, I had found the L&D desk. I told my mom I would call her in 5 minutes after checking in.
There was SO many nurses behind the desk, chatting away. They barely glanced at me and told me to fill out some forms to check in. I picked up a pen and started writing my name on the clipboard. I noticed that my hand was starting to not respond to my intent to finish writing my own name. My printing went from precise to a slurred long line. I looked up, and things started to move in slow motion. And I got the words "I think something is wrong" out, in a voice I didn't recognize as mine. I saw nurses faces turn to horror as my body went to the ground.
Suddenly I was in a wheel chair. And there was a group of women yelling commands at each other. I couldn't lift my legs onto the supports and they were being dragged under the force of the chair being run down a hallway. I don't remember being moved from the chair to the table. I just opened my eyes to laying flat on my back, in a room of 30 nurses and doctors. Everyone screaming over the next. A nurse said my blood was like water, I remember thinking, does she mean its clear? What does blood like water mean? Someone said I was too pale and I tried to tell them I am always pale. "She's conscious?!" Two nurses were having an argument over the fact that they didn't hear the ambulance come in, the other said I had driven myself, and the first said there was NO way someone in my condition, was driving a car a few minutes ago.
Someone yelled "SHE'S IN DIC!" I didn't know what this meant. Medical terms were being flung around the room. I had about 4 needles in each arm. Blood transfusions, platelets, plasma, medications to treat DIC. Of the 30 nurses, ones job was to simply keep holding my hand and telling me I was going to be ok, and then in between she would hit my face and tell me to stay awake.
A nurse was on the table above me, and she was urgently cutting my dress off. At the same time I thought, no please don't ruin my favorite dress. And then, they only do this when someone is dying.
I tried to remain calm as it was sinking in. I looked down at my giant stomach. I noticed my OB was there with an ultrasound wand. He was wearing a suit and tie. It was grey and yellow I think. I noticed it because he was the only one not in scrubs. And I didn't understand how he was standing in this emergency room so suddenly. I learned after the fact, that he happened to be across the street at church when he got a call about me. He rushed over and that act probably saved my life. He told me every tiny piece of that day, fell in a way that saved me. Because I should have died.
He said it three times. The last time he said, "Do you understand me, the baby has no heartbeat. We cannot get her out right now because you are not stable enough to survive it. You're bleeding out internally." I remember arching my back and crying, in a primal pleading to reverse time. He clearly must be mistaken because my mom told me everything was going to be fine just 5 minutes ago. I ask for Brandon, someone had to get Brandon here right now. Because this was going to be it. This was going to be goodbye to Anna, and goodbye to me. And I didn't know if he was going to make it in time to hear that goodbye.
The next person I asked for was my mom. I was a child in that moment, and I simply needed my mom to tell me again that everything was ok. I worried about her. I knew what this last year had done to both of us. I wanted to say sorry, I wanted to tell her I loved her, I wanted to talk to her one last time. I wanted her there. I was alone and the two people I wanted there, didn't even know what was happening.
At this point an anesthesiologist appeared near my head. Again shocked that I was responsive. They began making plans to put me under general anesthetic. I felt if they put me under, I would never wake up again. And Brandon wasn't there yet. I begged to be left awake, I was going to pull all my strength to see my husband one last time. I needed to tell him I loved him. I needed to tell him that I loved Sawyer, remind him that he is so smart, he is the sweetest boy I know, and that he gives the best hugs in the world and I love him. I needed to tell him that I loved Max, remind him that his smile lights up the world, that he is crazy and mayhem and everything perfect. Tell the boys that their laughter is the best sound I've ever heard in my life. I needed to tell Brandon, I'm so sorry. I couldn't save our daughter. I'm so sorry I am leaving you in this life and you are going to be a single father raising our children. I'm so sorry I am dividing our family into here on earth, and heaven above. I was going with Anna who was already gone. I am so sorry, I didn't want it to end like this. I love you, I love all of you, and I don't want to die.
I fought and I had a team of doctors fighting for me. And against the odds they let me stay awake because I was able to verbally ask for it, and sign a piece of paper, even though I couldn't hold the pen, and a nurse waved my hand back and forth and called it a signature. I was on a bed being rushed to an OR. I remember thinking, I've seen this movie, this tv show, this scene. The people don't make it. I was being prepped for surgery. I had done this surgery twice before, but this was not like that. The doctor asked for a time stamp. 40 minutes. It had only been 40 minutes since I walked into Labor & delivery. All of this had happened in under an hour, and it felt like time was stretching longer and longer than possible.
I looked to my right and there was Brandon's face. He was wearing full scrubs, and I could read his emotion on his face. His eye's were sad and holding back tears. A strong fake front for my sake, but I knew. I couldn't speak. I knew the answer but I asked him anyways. I thought maybe he had a different answer. "Did we lose the baby?" I asked it over, and over, and over. I thought if I asked it enough, he would answer differently. I waited for the cry of a baby to enter the room. It was silent. The answer would never change. My life would never be the same.
I closed my eyes and entered a blackness in my mind that I have never witnessed. I saw long linear paths of the brightest white, and colors swirled into it that don't exist. I walked this path, and I felt a calmness. If this was death, it was beautiful. I would interrupt it and open my eyes again, looking at Brandon. I wanted to stay with him. I closed my eyes again and went immediately back. I was existing in two places. One where the worst experience ever was happening, and one where there was peace. There was light in a tunnel of darkness. I had to choose. And I would choose it again every time. I wanted to stay, I didn't care what the cost was, I wanted to open my eyes and see Brandon holding my hand and my whole life in his.
The cost was losing Anna. The cost is a lifetime of emotional toll. The cost is a line in my life of before and after. The cost is that part of me did die that day. The cost will continue to ask for more, for the rest of my life. It is worth the cost. But I would still do anything to change it.
This is the near death experience. This is what it is like to come as close to the other side as possible. I lost half of my bodies blood supply. I bled out internally. I was told I would 100% have died if I stayed home. They believed if I had arrived 2 minutes later, I would have died. 120 seconds between life and death.
I am a miracle. Every tiny detail, of every second of that day landed in a way to save my life. I should be beyond grateful. But this is only the beginning of this story. This is how we arrived at, "would you like to see your daughter." For the first and last time. Dying and surviving only brought me to: living after stillbirth. And that's a story for another time. This huge post and experience is only a fraction of what is happening in my heart and mind right now.
It is a moment in time, forever frozen. I will never forget 11am-11:59am.
Anna Mae Christensen
born May 20 2018
11:59
This version of Alissa
Born May 20 2018
12:00
I did die that day. A miracle, and a team of incredible doctors & nurses refused to accept that fact. So here I am 40 day, 1 hour, and 14 min later. Still alive, and yet a completely new human. I am like an infant in the universe, trying to take in and learn its vastness. I am struggling, and I am grateful for a second chance. I am trying not to waste it, but I am also too broken to remember how to breathe sometimes. I was given time, but I am going to need a lot of it to not feel like this 40 minutes of my life is on pause and repeat at the same time.
I am still living.
I lived.
live.
with love, lissa