January 17, 2013

The second week back at school, my 8^th week of pregnancy, is when the unexpected trouble began. I had noticed early on that I had experienced more difficulty with breathing and felt consistently out of breath. I also noticed more heart palpitations and occasional dizziness. Knowing that my heart was pumping considerably larger quantities of blood through my body now with the pregnancy, I made note of it to bring up with my doctors in my appointments coming up in the next few weeks. Other than this, I had been blessed up to this point with a pretty non-eventful pregnancy. Other than being tired, I had not had the typical nausea or vomiting associated with “morning sickness”. On the morning of January 17^th, I kissed Bryan goodbye and rushed off to work. I had had considerable more heart palpitations the day before, but at that point in the morning I felt pretty normal. Until I parked my car and ran up the stairs to my classroom, carrying my bookbag, purse, lunch, and laptop.

Once inside my classroom, I immediately began to sweat and get dizzy. I had to sit down at my desk and wave papers in front of my face to cool off. Once I felt better, I stood up, walked across the room, and immediately had to sit down again. At this point, my mind was racing. The kids would start coming in the room at any second. Was this the flu? Morning sickness? Or, worse, was this the beginning of tachycardia (one of my pre-existing cardiac conditions)? I had let my co-teacher next door know what was going on, and once the kids started walking in, she came back into my room with a peppermint candy, slid it across my desk and said “This should help!” I furiously began sucking on it, but nothing changed. At the point when I realized I couldn’t formulate sentences, couldn’t stand up, and couldn’t stop profusely sweating, I called for help. The office was aware of my pregnancy and also my cardiac condition, which began with an incident four years previous when the school had to call 911, and I was taken off by ambulance. So within minutes, the dean of students was in my room, asking me “What did you have for breakfast?” and “Do you think it’s the flu?” She suggested I go sit out in the hall, away from my students, where as soon as I sat down I began to vomit. She advised I should call my doctor, and I should not drive, so she brought my phone out to the hall and I called Bryan (I felt terrible, still not knowing what was going on, and being fully aware that he had a busy day ahead of him at work). Bless his heart, he was there within minutes. On the drive home, we debated who to call. My regular doctor? My OBGYN, who I had not yet met? Or my cardiologist? All I knew was that I just wanted to lay down. Just a few minutes of peace so I could collect my thoughts. Once we got home, Bryan set me up on the couch with my phone, some water, and a trashcan. I told him to go back to work (praise God his shop is only a couple blocks away from our house), and I would call him in 20 minutes or so. As I laid there, the pain in my left arm began to get worse and worse, and I could not get comfortable. My rapidly beating heart was pounding so hard, my body felt like it was rolling over an ocean. I called Bryan ten minutes later and said “I think we just need to go to the ER. They can figure it out from there.” Because at that point, I realized as much as I hate the hospital, it was not about me anymore. It was about the baby inside me. And at that point I felt like I would rather die, which is not a healthy state of mind to be in.

Bryan was home within five minutes, and we were at the ER within 15. One thing we realized the summer before, when I threw my back out and had to make an unexpected trip to the ER, was that if you have a cardiac condition, you get moved to the top of the priority list. Which in this case worked out in my favor. Immediately I was taken to the admitting room, where they took my pulse and blood pressure. I knew something was really wrong when the nurse asked, in an accusatory tone, “Why didn’t you come in sooner?!?” Worst mother of the year award goes to me, before this child is even born. Within the next few hours, we learned that when my body goes into tachycardia, the baby is not getting an adequate supply of blood through the placenta. But luckily, with cardio version therapy, the baby would not be adversely affected. See, we had learned the last time I went to the ER (in 2008) with a heart rate of 180 (normally, it’s in the 50s) that normal medicines to help patients with tachycardia do not affect me one bit. Because I also have something called Wolff Parkinson White, which is supposedly not related but became known the same year as my tachycardia, the only way I can be treated once in the current state I was in is through something called cardio version. This is where they put me to sleep (with propofol, also not harmful to baby), then administer a drug that stops my heart. At the proper time, they reset my heart with an electric shock via paddles, and the rhythm and pace once again become normal. Within 15 minutes I woke up, feeling as good as new, with Bryan holding my hand and the nurse removing my oxygen mask (Bryan stepped out during the actual procedure, as he couldn’t bear to watch, but did hear the alarms on the monitors when I flat-lined).

My normal cardiologist was not available during this episode, but he did make it down to the ER to visit with us briefly before we were discharged. It was at this time he told us this would likely happen again, once if not several times, but he assured us it is okay for the baby. He gave us his cell phone number before leaving and told us we could call anytime. He prescribed some beta blockers for me to take once a day, to try to keep my heart rhythm in balance as much as possible. Before we left, we texted family to let them know the news, and enjoyed a nice lunch in the St Vincent’s cafeteria! (We joked about what a fraud I was, strolling into the ER, cutting in front of the line, and then a couple hours later I strolled back out). Bryan took me home so I could nap, and he ran a couple needed errands. That night we had our first-time parent class, which I was looking forward to! At that point, I felt 100% and so thankful everything was okay with the baby. However, as the reality set in, I began to feel like I was entering on a seven month battle against my heart and my body. Definite prayers would be needed.