Life is often a series of circumstances beyond your control. The day you almost bleed to death is not a day you quickly forget. It is also a day that takes some time to come to terms with. To tell the story entirely, I have to go back to my first pregnancy. My first daughter, Gianna, was born in 2013. My pregnancy with Gianna was smooth with no complications. The day of delivery, I had an emergency C-section because I never dilated and my blood pressure rose. I was in labor 24 hours, given Pitocin and did not dilate at all. My doctor came to me after waiting 24 hours and asked what I wanted to do. He let me know about the blood pressure readings. I told him I was exhausted and ready. While it did not feel like a dire emergency, I was worried about my baby. With my blood pressure rising and the constant Pitocin, I thought the best thing was to deliver and stop putting undue stress on the baby. We proceeded with the C-section, I recovered normally, and everything was “happily ever after.” Gianna was born at 4:26 pm and was a little over 7 pounds.
In 2016, I was pregnant again with my second child. Just like the first time, I did not know the sex, but this pregnancy threw me for a loop from the beginning. I assumed this one would be a boy since it was so different from my first pregnancy. I had morning sickness that I did not have with my first pregnancy. I could not eat or smell certain foods, and even the look of certain foods made me vomit. Around 7 months pregnant, I sprained my ankle and had to wear a medical boot for about 3 weeks. This was incredibly challenging and taking a shower became an Olympic sport of difficulty. I also suffered through plenty of heartburn, and it kept me from sleeping properly. I should have seen these as signs that nothing would go as planned during the delivery.
Since I had a C-section with my first child, the doctor suggested I have a C-section with my second child. I trusted my doctor one hundred percent. Not only did he deliver Gianna successfully, but he has also been delivering babies since the 1980s. He is known to be challenging to work with because he has high expectations and can come off as arrogant. I always found him pleasant and most importantly knowledgeable.
During this time, we were living in El Paso, Texas. We did not have a “village” to help us as our family lives in Miami, Florida. For this baby’s delivery, my in-laws and brother-in-law flew in for a few days to assist us. This was a huge help when you do not have a village nearby! My parents could not make the trip. The C-section was scheduled for November 9, 2016. That morning everything went as planned on our way to the hospital. We arrived early, and we were ready to meet baby number 2.
At 7:04 am, the doctor yelled out, “It’s a girl!” Our doctor loved shouting out the sex both times for both deliveries! He explained that he rarely gets the chance because nearly everyone finds out the sex before birth. We were thrilled to have a little sister for Gianna and Adalind was perfectly healthy at 8 and ½ pounds. My recovery began.
After arriving at my private room, my first recovery nurse greeted me. She asked where my pain level was. I explained that it felt more intense than I remember with my first C-section. I had my blood pressure taken and was told that they would be bringing Adalind to me shortly. I watched TV as we waited and I chatted with my husband. As time went on, I began telling my husband that the pain was becoming more intense and that it felt much worse than it did with Gianna. My husband was supportive and trying to help, but he could not do much to alleviate my pain.
When the nurse came in again, she asked how I was feeling and where my pain was on a scale of 1 to 10. I said I was probably at a 10, perhaps more. I explained that I had a high tolerance for pain, but this was becoming unbearable. She continued to express that every C-section was different and that since this was my second C-section, it was typical for the pain to be more intense. She checked my uterus and said it was contracting as expected. She left and said she would be back soon to check on me again. I wanted to trust her, but I felt something telling me that this was not normal.
When they brought Adalind to us, it was magnificent. Seeing her little face. Holding her tiny fingers. For those brief minutes, the pain was secondary. Adalind latched on like a pro and was ready to breastfeed! Compared to Gianna’s first time breastfeeding, this was a breeze. Adalind latched on quickly and was drinking breast milk right away. It took about twenty minutes for her to breastfeed. I will savor those twenty minutes for the rest of my life.
Once Adalind finished breastfeeding, they took her back to the newborn room. I started talking to my husband, and that is when the unthinkable happened. I hunched over in the bed. The cramping became swift and severe. I felt as if my insides were pulling apart from my body. Immediately after, my bed was soaked with blood. Absolute terror went through my mind. I became disoriented and horrified. My husband immediately started doing everything he could to find a nurse or a doctor, someone to help. My primary nurse came rushing in. She looked scared and confused which frightened me even more. She ran out and soon I had nearly ten nurses in my room. It felt as if I was now in my own episode of Grey’s Anatomy. It became an out of body experience at this point. The pain continued, and the blood continued to flow out of me and soak the bed.
Suddenly in the commotion, I hear, “Hi, I’m Gabby, the head nurse.” She held my hand. “I am going to take care of you. I need to get inside of you and what I am going to do is going to hurt.” My husband was holding my hand. Gabby then proceeded to put her hand inside of me to see if my uterus was contracting. I began screaming in pain. It was so intense I began to bite my husband’s arm in between the screams. He kept telling me, “You can do this. I’m here. I love you. You can do this.” His words rang hollow as I was in the worst pain I had ever experienced. Looking down I could see Gabby’s arm inside of me. When she pulled it out, her arm was soaked in blood. She then told me, “I need to push down on your stomach now. I am trying to force your uterus to start contracting.” At this point, I thought I was going to black out from the pain.
My husband works in a law enforcement capacity. He has had to put his life on the line several times. He has worked high-risk special response operations. He trains extensively on how to deal with emergencies, CPR, and other life-saving techniques. My husband was terrified. When I looked in his eyes, I saw fear. He was calm, but I could see he was afraid. With work, he feels as though he can control the situation, the plan of action, perhaps even the outcome. Here, he had no control.
Gabby then said to my primary nurse (whose name I am not revealing on purpose), “How did you not notice her uterus was not contracting? She is hemorrhaging badly.” Now I was in a full panic. Gabby yelled, “We need a doctor in here ASAP!” She said they would try and find the first doctor they could see.
A few minutes passed but those are a few minutes of agony and fear I will never forget. The thoughts that raced into my mind in between the pain were fluid and fast-paced. One idea would enter, and another would interrupt it just as fast:
I just might die today. Holy shit is this really happening? This hurts so much. Do any of these people know what the hell they are doing? Gabby seemed with it, she can help me. She’s the head nurse for a reason. That other freaking nurse didn’t know what the heck she was doing. I knew it. I knew something didn’t feel right. She looked clueless! Guillermo looks so scared. He wants to fix it but he can’t. Why are all these people staring at me? These other nurses are just here, not doing anything. Everyone seems lost. This may be the end of our story Babe. Help me. Will I ever see Adalind again? She won’t even know me. Gianna isn’t here, what if I don’t make it, I won’t even be able to tell her I love her. My mom. Should I call her? I’ll never hear my mother’s voice again. Her loud Cuban voice. My dad. My sister. My brother. My entire family! My nieces and nephews. My in-laws. My brother in law. Thank goodness they came. At least they are here, and if I don’t make it, they can help Guillermo. Pictures of my family and friends came through in waves. My friends. I thought of every Moochie (our nickname for one another) that was in my life. I remembered how many times I said I would call them back but life got in the way and I did not. I wondered if I didn’t make it, what would people say about me? I’d hoped that I would be remembered as kind, funny, and smart. I wondered how people would describe me to my children? Now I may never see them again. I wish I could tell people how important they were to me. I wish I had more time.” I kept going back to my daughters but then was jolted back to how my body felt. The room was becoming warmer. The pain was agonizing. People, time, moments, the past, the future, memories and the pain all blurred into one another.
Within minutes, my doctor came in! I cannot express to you how relieved I was to see him. You know on Christmas morning when a child spots that one gift they wanted the most with a huge red bow on it? That is how I felt when I saw him! I knew he had years of experience and I trusted him fully with my life. He looked into my eyes, held my hand and said, “Do not worry; I am going to take care of you. However, I have to put you back under anesthesia. When you wake up everything will be fine. But it has to happen right now.”
They told my husband he could wait for me right outside. I did not have time to process it all. I said to my husband, “I love you.” He said the same. We kissed, and he let go of my hand. I said a prayer and then was I out.
When I woke up, I remember thinking, “Wow, I actually woke up! I’m still here! I made it! Thank you, everyone! Thank you, God!” I remember my husband said, “Hey, how do you feel? It’s so good to see you awake.” The pain was gone, but I was not sure if it was because of the anesthesia or something else. I felt an enormous sigh of relief mixed with worry, wondering if everything was “fixed.” I remember I was utterly exhausted.
My doctor came to see me soon afterward. He told me that the surgery went well and he was able to stop the bleeding. He warned me that I had lost a significant amount of blood. He let me know my C-section recovery would now be much different but that I should be OK. He told us that I would pass large blood clots but that anything larger than a golf ball he wanted to see. That meant collecting it and placing it in a bag for him or the head nurse to examine. Lastly, he let me know that I would need a blood transfusion.
The blood transfusion took about 8 hours. They attached me to this life-saving machine for 8 hours, receiving blood from strangers. Strangers that helped save my life. Strangers that are now a part of me and made me physically complete again. My view on donating blood changed drastically that day.
My relationship with my husband also changed that day. When you nearly lose your time with someone, time suddenly becomes of the essence. He also had to help me do everything as I could not do much on my own. When I passed a large and concerning blood clot, and there was no nurse nearby to retrieve it, he gloved up and went into the toilet to grab it. In his words, “I wanted to grab it before it changed or someone would flush it down the toilet by accident.” To say this ordeal brought us closer would be an understatement. Those wedding vows took on their intended meaning during my recovery.
Seeing Gianna and Adalind once it was all over was sobering. I would be able to go home to my girls but I also nearly lost my time with them as well. It was too much to take in at the time.
After a few days, I went home, but I was severely restricted on what I could do. I was limited to the bed and the couch. My family carried Adalind to me, and I could no longer breast-feed her due to the prescriptions I was taking.
I was an emotional wreck for some time after this experience. I did not want to discuss it for several weeks. I questioned everything and went through feelings of shock, happiness, anger, and despair, often experiencing all of these emotions in one day. I found myself continually asking God, “Did that really happen?” “Why did I make it?” “How can I live better?” “How do I honor this precious gift of time I have been given?” Once I felt comfortable enough to talk about it, speaking to friends and family became therapeutic.
So how does almost dying change you? Well, it makes you less stressed about the little things. I am of Cuban descent, so a natural level of stress is always reasonable. There is a saying in the Cuban community that Cubans don’t know how to keep calm, and there is some truth to that. I learned how to relax. Not just to sit on my couch and do nothing, but how to sit in a quiet room and just breathe. How to stop for a minute and just take in, instead of giving out. I consistently look at the positive now. Naturally, I still worry and get upset, but I quickly stop and assess. Count your blessings isn’t just a phrase for me anymore.
I came to find out later that the nurse assigned to me had only been out of nursing school for six months. I was her first experience with a uterus that was not contracting properly. I would like to thank the head nurse Gabby that saved my life. She took total control of the situation and was the first line of defense in saving my life. I would not be here without her. I would also like to thank my doctor for saving my life. For making me feel at ease. For delivering two of my greatest blessings. For holding my hand and saying, “You will be OK.”
I started this post by sharing that life is often a series of circumstances beyond your control. When in a life and death situation, you learn this lesson hard and fast. There was so much that day I could not control. It changed me more than anything I have experienced until this point. My husband learned that lesson this day as well. You have to let go and trust the process. It is something that we are still working on today.
I look at everything now as a season and seasons change. To quote The Byrds and the Bible verses from which the song was inspired, “To Everything (Turn, turn, turn). There is a season (Turn, turn, turn). And a time to every purpose, under Heaven.”
I learned how to pray that day. Before that day, my prayers consisted of a feeble attempt to get God to give me what I wanted or thought that I needed. That day, I learned to pray and ask God to allow me to trust in what He wants for me. Not easy and I am still working on it. It is a daily task but one I am grateful for having as I continually turn, turn, turn on life’s complicated but wondrous journey.
