An Unexpected Hiccup… One Year Later

Exactly a year ago, I woke up with a little bit of an upset stomach.

It quickly escalated from there into what I originally thought—as did my doctors—was the worst.stomach.bug.ever. The most violent vomiting you can imagine. The pain and discomfort associated with a stomach virus, but multiplied times ten.

I spent the day suffering.

Suffering through an OB appointment to check on the baby due to my vomiting, during which the nurse practitioner told me the baby was fine, but I did indeed have a horrible stomach virus. She said I’d have to tough it out for 24-48 hours until it subsided.

Suffering through hours lying in bed, writhing around in discomfort, praying I would pass out for even just a few minutes so I could have some relief.

Suffering through phone call after phone call to my OB, to my primary care physician, to on-call doctors—begging someone… anyone… to help me.

Suffering through a trip to urgent care, where they turned me away without even looking at me once they realized I was 22 weeks pregnant. I cried.

Suffering through a drive to the ER, where they—wait for it—also turned me away. THE EMERGENCY ROOM. Turned.me.away!! At that point, I laughed. Because seriously, what else could I do? By this point, it was nearly 7:00 p.m. and the last 12 hours had been a nightmare.

Thankfully, the ER didn’t make me go far. They made me go up to L&D. There, I finally got some relief through an IV with three bags of fluids to hydrate me, as well as pain and anti-nausea meds. After a few hours, I felt a little bit better. Ultimately, the doctors there agreed with the morning’s diagnosis—gastroenteritis. A fancy word for the stomach flu.

But if you’ve been around for more than a year, you know that this turned out to be not at all what it seemed. As I walked out of the hospital that night, I started feeling a weird twinge on my lower right side whenever I stepped on my right foot. An ominous sign, and one I should’ve apparently paid more attention to. In hindsight, I would’ve turned back around and gone right back up to L&D.

But I didn’t.

One thing led to another and I ended up back in the hospital just 6-7 hours later, in the early hours of the morning. Acute appendicitis they said. What I had thought was a nightmare the day before? That was nothing compared to what happened next. As I waited for surgery… that angry appendix burst. Pain you cannot even imagine unless you’ve been through it. And I don’t know, maybe it’s different for everyone, but for me, it was way worse than childbirth—and I’ve had two babies sans any drugs.

We didn’t know if our sweet unborn baby would survive all of this. Abdominal surgery when pregnant was a risk to begin with, but once that appendix ruptured, my risk of losing the pregnancy multiplied. The baby was much too young to be born, and it was scary. It continued to be scary as I endured eight days in the hospital with some complications.

The whole thing was horrible. One day, I was a healthy, happy pregnant lady enjoying her second trimester, and the next, I was recovering from surgery, unable to get out of bed by myself, unable to eat, and with a nasal cannula shoved up my nose to help my oxygen levels. I was so very sick.

Now, a year later, it is amazing to think about how all along, that baby inside of me during all of that? It was our Vivienne. Thankfully, amazingly, miraculously… we wouldn’t meet her until four months later. I am so grateful I was able to go on to have a healthy pregnancy and wonderful delivery.

But my Vivienne… I think I will always have a little extra bond with her because of what we went through together at that time. Sometimes I look at her and it is incredible to think about what she endured with me. They opened up my belly and “power washed” my organs (because of the rupture), and Vivienne was right there inside. It kind of blows my mind.

The whole thing is still kind of surreal to me. I look back and although I lived it—every horrible minute of it—I still kind of can’t believe that happened to me. At the time it was all happening, I didn’t know how that story would end. I didn’t know how that event would shape my life, and to what extent. I’m so, so glad that I had a good outcome. It was a big deal at the time, and I will carry the scar from it for the rest of my life, but really, it was only a blip on life’s radar. It was a hiccup.

This morning, we were at our pediatrician’s office to get Vivienne a vaccine and we actually ran into the nurse practitioner from my OB’s office (it’s in the same building) who so easily dismissed me that morning, exactly one year ago. She was so sure it was a stomach bug. I don’t really blame her, because there were others who thought the same—and I’ve since heard so many horror stories about appendicitis initially being misdiagnosed—but I still wish there had been someone along the way who thought to consider the possibility.

I allow myself to go back there in my mind, to think about it sometimes. About how it could have been different. How I could’ve avoided the rupture if only I had been diagnosed correctly, if only I had paid more attention to the “twinge” in my right side, if only I had refused to leave the hospital that night. But also how it could’ve been so.much.worse.

It happened and I—we—made it through.

One year ago. And now I have her.