Heather & Josie

"My pregnancy I would say was rather uneventful in the beginning as far as all thing’s pregnancy goes. My husband and I did unfortunately test positive for Cov*d early in my pregnancy which required a few extra doctor visits initially just to insure everything continued to look the way it should. We did the genetic blood test and found out that not only was our baby healthy, but that we were also having a baby girl - just as I had dreamed.

At our 20-week anatomy scan in August, the ultrasound tech was unable to check off all the boxes needed due to baby not wanting to cooperate, so Dr. Howell suggested we finish the anatomy scan at our next appointment in 4 weeks. He said everything else looks great, baby is growing the way she should, so he had no reason to believe that there would be anything wrong with her heart or brain (the things they were not able to see on that ultrasound). So, on September 1st, we went in for my glucose test, ultrasound, and routine checkup. During the ultrasound, they were able to get baby girl to cooperate and ended up getting everything they needed. However, I couldn’t help but notice the ultrasound tech kept getting readings of the same thing over and over. Not to mention she was taking longer than any other ultrasound we had up to this point. But once she finished what she was doing, she printed off pictures for us to keep, gave us a big smile, and told us we were all done. Logan and I rush over to Dr. Howell’s office because we were now running late. They call us back and when the nurse took my vitals, she looked at me confused and asked if my blood pressure had been on the higher side since being pregnant. I told her no and that I have never had an issue with high blood pressure. She takes it again and it comes back even higher. She brushes it off, takes us back to our room, and tells me she will be back in to check it shortly once I have sat down for a little bit. Well, an hour rolls around and still no sign of the nurse or doctor. We were convinced that they forgot all about us. Logan walked out to the nurse’s station and was informed that our doctor was just finishing with another patient and would be in to see us shortly. We continued to sit and wait. At this point I am starving from having fasted for my glucose test, so we were arguing about which Mister B’s we were stopping at once we left there. I was begging to go to the one in Evansville because it was closer, but Logan wanted to stop in Henderson because he swears their food tastes better. In the middle of us going back and forth about lunch, Dr. Howell walked in, pulls up a chair, and tells us he has rather difficult news. The ultrasound showed baby is measuring exceedingly small - in the 6th percentile to be exact. It didn’t appear that she had grown much or if any over the last month. They also noticed some major blood flow issues through the umbilical cord and my placenta looked very calcified. Those things mixed in with my new onset of high blood pressure made for a scary situation. He informed us that he had already contacted a high-risk doctor, and we need to go downstairs to be admitted to the hospital. We sat there in total shock until Logan finally found it in him to muster up the question “so... are you saying we could either lose the baby or have to deliver sometime soon?” Dr. Howell nodded his head and said “yes, I am afraid that both of those are very real possibilities, but we are going to do everything we can. Come with me and we will get you admitted.”

So, at 23 weeks and 6 days gestation, I was admitted to the hospital, given steroid shots to help with baby girl’s lung function, put on a magnesium iv to help with her brain function, diagnosed with preeclampsia, and put on bed rest in the antepartum wing of the hospital. The survival rate for babies born at 23 weeks is 50% - 66%. Needless to say, we were doing everything we could to keep her inside as long as we could. Every day that passed put us in better odds. Each morning started with lab work followed by an ultrasound and being hooked up to a baby monitor. If everything looked okay on the ultrasound and monitor, I was given the thumbs up to eat breakfast. Eating breakfast meant that the doctors and nurses felt like baby, and I were stable enough to hold on for one more day. The plan was to continue this routine until I reached 34 weeks, making the survival rate greater than 95%. They also said they would check on baby’s growth every 2 weeks to see how she was measuring.

Two weeks from the day we were admitted, the nurses hooked me up to the monitor for a longer period due to me not feeling her move as much as usual. They said she was still monitored okay, but it was not as good as it had been previously. In the ultrasound, they measured her again for the first time since our office visit and we learned she now measured in the 21st percentile! The prayers had worked, and she was finally growing! The ultrasound tech wheeled her cart out of the room and the nurse came into our room right after to hook me back to the monitor again and to take my blood pressure. At this point, I was on two types of blood pressure pills and had been given bp medicine through my iv earlier that morning because it was continuing to go up despite the medicine. When the nurse got the blood pressure readings, she immediately threw her head back and sighed. “So… I’m guessing it’s not good?” Logan chimed in. The nurse shook her head and said “it’s 176/110 - I’ll be right back. Let me go talk to Dr. Kuper.” (My high-risk Dr) Five minutes later, she walks back in with a couple of other nurses and informs us that it’s baby day. I was only 25 weeks and 6 days gestation.

The events that followed were a whirlwind. We had 5-6 nurses in the room with us getting me prepped and ready for surgery. Dr. Howell and Dr. Kuper were in there going over the game plan with us and what the series of events would be. Logan barely had time to step out of the room to inform our family of what was going on before I was being taken back for an emergency c-section in hopes that my blood pressure would come down before I got any sicker. They wheeled me back to the OR room, put me up on the table, gave me the spinal tap, and had me prepped and ready before Logan even walked into the room. One of the neonatologists, Dr. Pyle, came to my bedside, grabbed my hand, rubbed it between his and let me know he would take excellent care of our baby and that everything would be okay.

Exactly one hour after they informed us we would be having a baby that day, Josie Ann McGary was born at 12:06pm on September 15, 2021, weighing 1lb 7oz and measuring 13in long. Dr. Howell pulled her out and asked “can you hear that mom? She’s crying!” In that moment I heard the softest cry I had ever heard in my entire life. So soft that had he not pointed it out, I would have missed it. They placed her in a clear plastic bag (talk about traumatizing) and held her up for me to see for a total of (no exaggeration) 3 seconds before they took her away and wheeled me off to recovery. The second they let me leave the recovery room, we headed straight for the NICU. Logan had already gotten to see Josie minutes after she was born, but I still had not gotten to lay eyes on her. They wheeled my hospital bed over to her isolette and I was finally able to see my baby girl for the very first time. We were instructed to not rub her skin, but instead lay a firm finger or hand on her if her vitals allowed it. I tried to soak up every second of my first few moments with my daughter, but my blood pressure was starting to bottom out and I began feeling nauseous from that and all the medicine they had me on, so Logan helped them wheel me out of the NICU. Once we walked out, he and I would not be able to be in the same room as our daughter again until we were bringing her home due to the Cov*d restrictions.

A few days after having Josie, they finally got my blood pressure under control (I still struggled keeping it down even after delivering) and was released from the hospital. We were offered a room at the Ronald McDonald House connected to the hospital and though I was torn with leaving Josie to go home or staying in the hospital to be close to her, I knew we were in this for the long haul and that my mental health was going south fast. I did not trust myself to be alone with my family and friends an hour away. So, I made the hardest decision of my life to go home, get rest, and drive to visit as often as I could. Later, I would realize that I was battling with severe Postpartum Depression and Anxiety. I am fairly sure I cried nonstop for a month or so after Josie was born. As time went on (and after being prescribed medication to help), I eventually found a routine and schedule that worked for me, and I learned how to keep pressing on even on days I did not feel like getting out of bed.

After 105 days in the NICU, we finally walked out the hospital doors and brought our baby girl home.

Josie came home on a low flow of oxygen due to being diagnosed with Chronic Lung Disease, blood pressure meds, blood thinner injections, and a laundry list of follow up appointments for weight checks, feeding clinics/OT, hematology/oncology, pulmonologist, cardiologist, nephrologist, and NICU follow-ups. However, since being home she has gotten to come off oxygen, lowered the amount of BP medicine, taken off blood thinner injections once the blood clot dissolved, and is finally starting to pack on weight. Her follow up appointments are getting to be fewer and far between. She is also right on track for her adjusted age.

She is the happiest and sweetest little babe. Logan and I are soaking up every second we have with her and try to not take a single thing for granted. She is a miracle from God, and we are so thankful God saw fit for us to be her parents. I genuinely believe that God helped prepare my heart for what was to come the night of that dream (and in other ways that would make the hair on the back of your neck stand up and give you goosebumps all over your body - but I’ll save those stories for another day). Though the road was long and scary, I knew deep in my heart that she would be okay and would eventually be home with us.

If I could offer advice to anyone going through similar situations, it would be to not be afraid to seek help. The days and weeks after Josie were dark and to be honest, there are still days the darkness creeps back in. Be honest with your friends/family, your doctor, and most importantly, yourself about how you are feeling. You don’t have to be alone in those thoughts and should you ever feel like you don’t have anyone to turn to that understands what you’re going through, reach out to any NICU support group!"

-NICU Mama Heather