If your read our blog regularly, you already know the beginning of my pregnancy story but the story doesn't end with Logan's birth.
When I learned I was pregnant, I imagined I would have a picture perfect pregnancy. I was in the best health of my life; I weighed less that I did in college, I loved my kickboxing and zumba classes, and I was well on my way to running my first 5k. At 20 weeks, I started bleeding from a low-lying placenta. At 26 weeks, I was placed on bed rest because of the bleeding. The bed rest led me to gain more weight than I intended and I developed high blood pressure at week 35. At 37 weeks, I was hospitalized for a day due to increasingly high blood pressure. The next day, I returned to the hospital with a Group B Strep infection and high blood pressure and needed an emergency c-section. My sweet baby boy was in the NICU for six days, but thankfully was infection-free.
For most new mommies, bringing your new baby home from the hospital should be a time of celebration and excitement paired with fatigue and a few nerves; all the things you should expect. Like my pregnancy, coming home from the hospital did not go as expected.
As I began to recover from the surgery, we noticed that my blood pressure remained high, as did my pulse, and I began to swell around my ankles. The night we brought Logan home was tougher than we expected. In addition to the stress of caring for a new baby, I was having difficulty breathing and worried I might have a virus. The next night, I felt much worse. My chest felt heavy and I couldn't sleep. By morning, I was concerned about a possible blood clot and went to the emergency room. Fluid in my lungs led the emergency physicians to a diagnosis of bronchitis. They sent me home with a breathing treatment and instructions to see my regular doctor the following day.
That night, I felt even worse. I still couldn't sleep and was coughing like crazy. My regular doctor was extremely concerned about my blood pressure and the crackling sound in my lungs, but especially about my high pulse. She suspected something I had never heard of before: peripartum cardiomyopathy (pregnancy-induced heart failure). I knew it was serious when she told my husband and me to cancel our son's first pediatrician appointment that afternoon and sent me to see a cardiologist immediately.
After an examination, an EKG, and an ultrasound, at age 29, with a 9-day old baby in my arms, I was diagnosed with heart failure.
With peripartum cardiomyopathy, it's impossible to determine the cause. It could have been the high blood pressure, the strep infection, the surgery, or something unknown. It could happen to anyone but is rare, occurring in approximately 1 in 4000 pregnancies. Think about it this way: for all of the babies born at an average hospital in one year, one new mommy will have heart failure.
A healthy heart pushes 60-70% of its blood out with every beat and mine was only pushing out 25%. It was as though I had developed the heart of an unhealthy 70-year old man overnight. My pulse was hovering around 100 because my heart was working twice as hard to get the oxygen-rich blood out to my organs. I was experiencing every single symptom of peripartum cardiomyopathy: difficulty breathing, swelling, cough, racing heart, chest pain, frequent urination...
I was equally terrified and grateful. I wondered what this meant for my ability to care for my baby but grateful for such a quick diagnosis. No one wants to hear that there is something wrong with their heart, but it has to be worse when you have a brand new baby. I worried that I would never be able to care for Logan the way I hoped I could. I learned that I had a 33% chance of staying the same, a 33% chance of getting worse, and a 33% chance of improving and possibly healing completely.
I started treatment with a diuretic and beta blocker immediately. The first few days were rough as the diuretic began clearing the excess fluid from my heart and lungs, but within two weeks, I was able to breathe and was eager to begin to rebuild my cardiovascular health. Unfortunately, the exhaustion I was experiencing, dehydration from my medication, and stress had already taken its toll on my relationship with Logan. I wasn't able to produce more than a few drops of milk and I was missing out on valuable bonding time because I felt so horrible. I hated that our experience of becoming a family was being marred by this illness.
Thankfully, four weeks after my diagnosis, I learned that my heart was pushing out 45-50% of the blood out with every beat! I was improving and so quickly; there was a good chance my heart's strength would rebuild and I would feel normal again. Yesterday, ten weeks after my diagnosis, I learned that it was back up to 60%! I have a healthy heart!
I am so grateful that my condition was diagnosed quickly and I was able to recover faster than most, but I am still angry. I am upset that my first few months with my baby boy were not as joyful as I hoped they would be. Even though I knew my condition was improving, I was still stressed about being in my situation and worried it would not improve completely. I'm sad because birthing more babies is not in my future. I am at a greater risk of developing cardiomyopathy with future pregnancies and it could be worse. It's not worth literally risking my life and not being able to raise Logan or any other children. Even though my heart has physically healed, I feel heart-broken. Now that I am healthy, I feel like I could be happy and finally give everything I have to my husband and my son and be the mom and wife I want to be, but the timing stinks because I just returned to work and feel divided once again. I feel like I was robbed. The last six months have been such an emotional roller coaster. I am so tired of the ups and downs; I just want to enjoy the ride.
Then we had delicious cupcakes at Georgetown Cupcake (from TLC's DC Cupcakes).
We finished our walk/date with a little picnic.
It was a great visit! Logan and I can't wait to see Ali and Natalie again! We miss them!
