Single Mother by Choice – Crash Course in Childbirth

I became a Single Mother by Choice a few years ago and it was the best decision I’ve ever made. One day, I will share the whole journey. Selecting a donor, the five years it took to conceive and the absolute catastrophe that was my pregnancy. The only positive element of my pregnancy was that it resulted in my favourite human in the world entering my life. Aside from that, it was an inspiration for birth control. A crash entry into this world is the best way I can describe it.

I Have a Headache

I had been in hospital for a significant portion of my pregnancy. I was admitted to the OBGYN ward but under neurology. It all began when I got a headache. It started right around the time I became pregnant. And then, for some reason, it never went away.

The headache became a migraine and the migraine led to vomiting, constant pain and no ability to ease it. I began battling the migraine with acupuncture, medication if absolutely necessary, a wet cloth over my eyes and other home remedies that I hoped would alleviate the pain. Nothing helped. I couldn’t get through a day, then an hour and then a moment without vomiting and feeling positive my head was going to explode. *Spoiler Alert – my head was actually exploding. This is not a metaphor.*

Eventually the migraine became a ‘status migraine’. Status migraines last longer than 72 hours; I vividly recall my 72^nd day (not hour….DAY) of the migraine. I was in hospital with broken blood vessels in my eyes and I had a portion of my brain absorbing huge amounts of fluid, as shown on three different MRI’s.  That was only day 72. I had many more to come.

Anatomical Odyssey

A neurologist (I think I know all of them now – every neurologist out there) told me the pressure in my head should be about 14 while resting (10-20 is normal). After cerebral spinal fluid came rushing out during my first lumbar puncture, the pressure was measured at about 32. Intracranial pressure is measured in mmHG (millimetre of mercury). Mine was mid-thirties for a few weeks. Between forty and fifty can cause loss of consciousness. Above that can cause brain death. 

I began getting nerve blocks in my neck and head, as well as more lumbar punctures to remove cerebral spinal fluid so the pressure would be reduced. The needles in my neck, head and spine didn’t phase me. My head hurt so much that no other pain could bother me. I can say with honesty I had the worst migraine of my life for approximately 150 days. It was not the only complication I had in pregnancy; I had other challenges that were more significant because they were life-altering complications. The migraine was a pain though. A real pain.

A neuro-ophthalmologist identified Roth Spots in my eyes; ruptured blood vessels that could have been a sign of endocarditis (heart infection). I began an anatomical odyssey that came with many tests, medications and potential solutions to the status migraine. It was determined that the Roth Spots were from vomiting so hard that blood vessels were rupturing in my eyes and face.  My heart was thankfully just fine and the status migraine continued. As did the odyssey.

Hospital Angels

I spent about five weeks in darkness with a wet cloth over my eyes because I was unable to speak to anyone for more than a few minutes. The nursing staff and physicians at Health Sciences Centre, where I was admitted, were angels. Neurologists became my friends and the tattoo down my spine became a perfectly placed target for lumbar punctures. We loved it. It became the norm to joke about how impossible it would be to miss the target on my spinals. Pregnancy fun.

The nurses helped me in ways I cannot describe. My own OBGYN was a pillar of light. I could not have been blessed with a more skillful, caring, intelligent and badass doctor. Her name was Dr. Corbett and she was my rock, along with the hospital staff who continuously reassured me that I would be ok, my baby was ok and that we would get through it together.

Sister Support

They discharged me and were hoping (with love) that I would not return. After a short period of time, I returned. They welcomed me back like an old friend and I was truly happy to be back. When you’re so sick that you cannot help yourself, a hospital with a kind, caring and dedicated staff provides the greatest sense of safety you will find.

My family visited me in the hospital and my sister happened to give birth in the same hospital while I was a patient. I was first on the scene, with my IV, and I believe that it brought me closer to my beautiful niece. It also enhanced my personal interest in emergency response. I gained a great deal of respect for my sister as I watched her take down childbirth like it was her bitch. She nailed it.

It’s a Baby. Not a Tumor.

Eventually I was diagnosed with Idiopathic Intracranial Hypertension, formerly called Pseudotumor Cerebri. It’s like having a brain tumor, but without the tumor and only the symptoms. I kept telling my body “it’s a baby! Not a tumor! WTF?!” but no avail.  I’m actually shocked I haven’t been written about in a medical textbook for ‘most disturbing pregnancies’. Or a health class brochure about birth control. My face would be on the front and it would be just like the egg cracking advertisements for drugs. This is your brain on drugs (cracked egg). This is your brain on pregnancy (photo of me with bloody eyes).

I was discharged again and kept in close contact with my OBGYN. Sometime around my 33^rd or 34^th week, I left the house to go meet a friend who had generously packed up toys, clothes and shoes for my little tumor. Baby…I mean baby. I was off to pick up a box from her and then back to my parents’ house to watch the Winnipeg Jets game. My friend’s place was close by and although I felt like walking death, I knew eventually I would need to prepare for baby time. I turned into her neighbourhood and saw a parking spot right in front of her house. I could see toys on the median where her children had been playing.

Crash Course in Childbirth

I stopped in front of her house, twisted around to park and backed my car up. As I was looking over my right shoulder, I turned my steering wheel to navigate my little car into its spot. I heard a loud CRASH before I felt anything. I remember the moment between the noise and the pain. It was a stillness; everything, for just a moment, stopped. It was a very long split second. Time has a way of shifting in the moments of catastrophe.

I untwisted my body and felt pain in my abdomen. I looked at my smashed vehicle in total disbelief and then at the SUV that had skidded on to the median after hitting me head on. It had missed a tree by inches and was also smashed and shattered. I opened my door and so did the young man who was driving. I immediately began crying and uttered “I’m 8 months pregnant”.

There was no anger whatsoever from either of us. He apologized many times, asked if he could call someone for me and was truly upset. I suggested that we quickly take photos of each other’s information, deal with the accident later and I would deal with the issue at hand (pregnancy). After a few moments, we left on amicable terms and I went into my friend’s house who had just watched the aftermath of the accident.

The Most Golden Arches

I can’t remember very much about our visit. She boxed toys and clothes up for me and carried them out to my mangled car. It didn’t look pretty but I could still drive it. She gave me a hug and I headed out. Naturally, I drove toward the Jets game. For some reason, my brain seemed to disregard the possibility of danger and remained focused on my priority. NHL hockey. Then something interesting happened.

On my way there I passed a McDonalds. I noticed that the golden arches were very, very vibrant. They were actually golden! Beautiful! As I observed the shimmering sign, I began to realize that not only did McDonalds look shiny but everything looked shiny! It was as if I was in a dream. Right then and there, I knew exactly what was happening to me. It had happened to me many times before. I was in shock and I knew that shock could be extremely dangerous because it often masks pain or the severity of a situation.

Phone a Friend Card

I drove toward my house and called my parents once I arrived. I told my Dad that I had been in a car accident and asked if he could come over to see if the baby was ok. He was over in less than ten minutes. As I was lying on my couch, he felt my belly and said the baby was moving. Relief.  He said we could go to the hospital, my choice, but if we go they will likely just hook me up to a fetal monitor for 4 hours. Hmm. Jets game…fetal monitor.

As I was debating whether I wanted to go AGAIN to my second home, the emergency room, my Mom called. I heard my Dad explaining what had happened and watched him rush to the door to put on his coat. I heard him reassuring her that OF COURSE he was taking me to the ER. Obviously! I got up quickly, he tossed me my jacket and again, Dad reassured Mom he had complete control of the situation.

Of course we’re going to the hospital, Mom. There was never a doubt…

I was a bit upset about the Jets game but could still see reality in technicolour. As fun as that would have made the game, I knew shock was not a good sign. The triage team got me into the ER quickly after we had a little reunion and hooked me up to a fetal monitor. Then my Dad left for a short period of time because at that point, he was just dropping me off at the doors of the hospital. They knew me well and it felt like home. I didn’t mind that he left because, well, the Jets.

Mild Sensations

A physician asked me if I could feel anything in my abdomen. I told him a bit of cramping but nothing severe (*status migraine reminder*). He asked me to tell him when the cramping increased or decreased. I felt a small tug, a squeeze and then release. I vividly remember him saying gently to me “this is called labour. Your contractions are 2 minutes apart”.

The next physician I saw was the surgeon who would perform an immediate C-Section. At that point, I decided to text my parents. I wanted to call or text my OBGYN, Dr Corbett, as I really felt I needed her there. She had been my link to sanity throughout the pregnancy journey. They said it wasn’t protocol. I attempted to convince a medical resident that it was protocol and to please call her. No avail however I did catch the aftermath; him being yelled at for not following protocol. Much gratitude for that brave man. And apologies.

I had worked with a wonderful Doula who I had zero time to call. I texted my parents and my Mom had no car at home. Luckily my Dad was generous enough to forego the Jets game and pick her up. My parents arrived just in time and my Mom, a retired ER nurse, scrubbed in. She even took photos during the surgery. They’re awesome – we framed one.

Lending a Helping Hand

I knew both the anesthesiologist and nurses from my pregnancy residence. There were moments of significant pain during delivery and I regrettably opted for the Stay Awake surgical plan. Eventually things became too painful and I was given a sedative. It did nothing. NOTHING. My tolerance for medication, due to the migraines, was high enough that Morphine was like a Flintstone vitamin. Then, for some reason, I put my hand under the curtain and toward my belly to ‘help out’. I recall the surgeon saying “who’s hand is that?!” and I cheerfully said “Nadia’s hand!!”. She said “Nadia needs to move her hand…” and as I slowly withdrew my helping hand as they gave me a second sedative.

After round two, I let myself drift into a void and slept peacefully for about 14 seconds. My Mom held my daughter as I told her I had to go; goodbye Mom. She seemed worried about where exactly I was going. I had been fighting the medication and could feel the pull into unconsciousness. I could see it, in fact. A void calling me to let go. When I couldn’t fight anymore, I tried to tell my Mom that I was going to sleep. It came out as “I’m leaving…goodbye Mom….take care of my daughter…”. I woke up after my peaceful 14 seconds and was wheeled to the recovery room. My Mom had my daughter, I was awake and my entire family joined me in the recovery room that is technically limited to a person or two. Family time!!

My daughter was small, very small, but did not need to be admitted to the NICU. I was injured from the accident but not severely; I would deal with a back injury for the next year or two. I spent Christmas in hospital and it was amazing. My parents visited in the morning and my siblings came in the evening. My brother even brought me a beer! It was truly a remarkable Christmas.

Sidebar – the Jet’s won the game. Go Jets!

Happy Christmas

The hospital had baby blankets made by volunteers; knitted and beautiful. I still have my blanket today, along with many gifts and reminders of my time in hospital. All of my friends from the OBGYN ward (nurses, neurologists, etc.) visited. My sister and I delivered our daughters exactly three months apart, to the minute, and were put in the same hospital room. Those two tots are now cousins and best friends.

The day after Christmas I took home my tiny baby and became a single mom. My sister told me she had never seen me look so good. I looked at photos from the day I delivered. I won’t lie; I actually look awesome. If I were in a magazine, I would want the photo of the day I had a baby to be on the front cover. It’s me living my best life. I had been in so much pain, so much migraine kill me now pain, that I felt like a new person. She said it truly revealed how sick I must have felt when I looked so stunning after getting into a head on collision and giving birth in the same afternoon.

Valsalva Maneuver

The experience overall was challenging and likely would be for any person; partner or not. Being a single soon-to-be-Mom was a special hard because before I was admitted, I suffered a lot on my own. Another person hanging around, aside from my dog, would have been wonderful. I truly wondered if someone would find me dead in my bathroom. I even had a bathroom bed set up for myself so I could peacefully vomit; it was right in front of the vent for maximum post-vomit relaxation. The sickness became so bad that I actually had a ‘vomit technique’ to help me avoid the Valsalva maneuver. My blood pressure was so low that I needed to work out a methodology for vomiting. First time for everything.

Helping is Human

All of my fear was alleviated when I was admitted; from the first admission through to bringing home my daughter. One thing I have learned in my life through many different circumstances is that you can make friends anywhere. You can find kind people anywhere. Help is always somewhere nearby. Even if you don’t know a person, they can quickly become your rock, your connection and your strongest support. I am very lucky in that I have wonderful friends and family. During my time in the hospital, I couldn’t connect with anyone except nurses and physicians because I was just too sick.  I will never, ever forget those people.

Being a Single Mom by Choice has taught me so much. The biggest lesson is that I am never alone. In a world of 7 billion people, we can find help. We can find kindness. We can find a way to trust humanity and believe that goodness is in our nature. I have been in so many situations, from hospital admissions to meditation retreats, where I went in without knowing anyone.

Connection with it all

I am continuously amazed at how quickly we human beings can connect deeply with one another. I’ve made friends in the most unusual places. Friends are not always lifelong companions. A friend can be a guide in the moment, a nurse, a stranger or even a pet. Once I built a great relationship with a spider and it visited me every evening while I painted for about 3 months. I miss that little guy.

Help others. Let others help you. Thank you to all my helpers. And remember, a perfect stranger can form the deepest connection with you and help you the most. If you let them. You can offer the same; there is really no such thing as a ‘stranger’.

We are so much more alike than we are different. Everyone laughs when they’re happy and cries when they’re sad. Everyone experiences ten thousand sorrows and ten thousand joys. We truly are all the same when you observe life from the lens of connection.

Much love and respect to all the mothers out there! It’s a tough job, but someone’s gotta do it.