The Peters - Mark, Tracy and Sara
Tracy Peters (0005386491@mcimail.com)
Wed, 27 Mar 96 15:43 EST
"Sara Peters weighed just 15 ounces when she was born. A large box
of Cheerios weighs more. She was so tiny that she could wear her mother's
engagement ring - a size 4 - on her arm."
That is how the Washington Post described my daughter in the article
they published on November 9, 1993, one day after Sara's homecoming.
My name is Tracy and I am so happy to have found this group. Ever
since Sara's birth and miraculous survival, I have been hoping to find
a group to which I could lend support and hope. I hope that this is
it.
After trying unsuccessfully to become pregnant for over a year, my
husband, Mark, and I were thrilled when, with the help of Clomid, we
became pregnant in late January 1993. 10 1/2 weeks later, in late
March, we discovered that we were having TWINS. I cried, Mark laughed
and we started our all but normal road to parenthood.
Then I got a call from my OB in early June telling me that my AFP test
was very abnormal and I should have a sonogram. So on June 4, Mark's
birthday, and at 20 weeks gestation, we discovered that one of my babies
had died at about 15 weeks. I was so sad, but not surprised. The
exponential growth that I had experienced in my waistline at the
beginning of my pregnancy had slowed dramatically just when it should
have been picking up speed. As a mother, I sensed something was amiss.
During the next weeks, I grieved for the dead baby that I was still
carrying and at the same time rejoiced over the ever increasing activity
of my little girl. Such a difficult set of emotions to deal with. But,
I firmly believed that the twin had given up so that my daughter may
thrive and for that I owed both of them a positive upbeat outlook and
a happy mom. So, I put one foot in front of the other and marched
on toward October 20 - my due date.
Then right before 4th of July weekend, I began spotting. A trip to
my OB told me to take it easy over the long weekend and I should be
fine. On July 5, I got that heavy pelvic feeling and began having
more and more, what I thought, were braxton hicks contractions. I
slept little that night and by 6 a.m. on July 6 was certain that I
was in labor and called my doctor. I was told to come to the office.
I was quite a funny site when the receptionist looked over at me dancing
around in the waiting room chair, asked me if I was okay and I said
well, my contractions are about a minute apart - boy did she run then!!!
I was sent to Fairfax Hospital, given tributelene (sp?) and admitted.
Over the next two days, I was told that I may have an amniotic infection
in which case the baby was as good as dead and my fertility was probably
in serious danger; that my baby was only measuring 22 weeks (thank
heavens for Clomid, so I knew that I was 25 weeks); and that even if I
was 25 weeks and didn't have an infection, a child that small had about
a 1% survival chance. I was put on mag sulfate (never been so sick
in my life) and then slowly weened off and put on Procardia on Thursday,
July 8.
Then, my stomach started to burn, like a nervous stomach only I could
not hold still and tums did not help. Blood was drawn that night about
11 pm and I was given a sedative so that I could sleep. Because of
the mag sulfate I had not slept or eaten since Monday. I was awakened
at 2 am on July 9 by a phone call from my OB. "We have to deliver
your baby or you are going to die" were the words I heard through the
telephone. I was already in labor, the sedative had knocked me out
so that I had slept right through 4 cm of dialating.
Off to Labor and Delivery we went, sobbing the whole way. I was given
a huge dose of epidural so that I wouldn't tense up at all during delivery.
I was asked if I wanted a C-section if the baby became distressed.
I said yes, anything to save this child. My OB quickly talked to Mark
and told him to please talk me out of this. I had developed a condition
most common in white women, first pregnancies in the South, called
HELLP Syndrome. My liver was destroying itself, my blood pressure
was sky high, and my platelets were so low (only 39,000/ml instead
of the normal 150-200,000/ml) that I was scheduled to deliver in an
operating room for fear I would hemorrage.
But, at 9 am my water broke with a crash and out came the twin and
then Sara Elizabeth. She was very purple and looked a bit like an
alien but she was very alive. She was intubated and started to turn
pink. I was yelling to her across the room telling her to fight Sara,
fight. I was so scared that she was going to wonder where her mommy
went.
She was taken to the NICU. Mark got a call telling him to come to
the NICU, he said it's the longest walk ever. But she was doing ok.
We were told that had she been any smaller intubation would have been
impossible - they had used the smallest tube manufactured.
Sara spent 3 weeks on an oscillatory ventillator, had a PDA ligation,
and at 3 weeks was put on a conventional respirator. At that time,
she also started receiving my milk which I had been pumping and freezing
every three hours since she was 2 days old. She spent 3 weeks on the
respirator, pulled her ET tube out and breathed on her own for 24 hours.
She was reintubated for 3 days, and off for good. We did CPAP for
another 3 weeks and a whiff of oxygen for the next 2 months.
Sara is one of the ones that the neonatologists look at and shake their
heads. No ventricular hemorages, no blown lungs, and her ROP (retinopathy
of prematurity) reached a stage 3+ and then turned on its heals and
receded. So, no eye problems either.
On November 8, 1993 Miss Sara came home - the smallest baby ever to
be born and survive at Fairfax Hospital. The next months were a mixture
of bliss and torture. She never ate well. I gave up pumping/nursing
right after she came home because my supply was diminishing. And I
swear to this day, she was mad because she didn't like formula!! Baby
food was not her favorite either. I told someone the other day that
if I could have paid someone to come in and feed her I would have.
I think part of the stress was my fear that she would have to go back
to the hospital. But time, it's true, fixes most things and this too
did pass. She now, at 2 1/2 eats very well, not a lot, but very healthy.
She has completely caught up developmentally. She's tiny but hey,
she's 22 times the size she started out.
She knows all of her letters when asked to pick them off the refridgerator
or on the computer, can spell a handful of words (MOM was the first-
boy was I honored), and loves ballet and The Nutcracker.
We are extremely lucky and know it. I am glad to have found a forum
for discussion, preemies can be a bit quirky and it's nice to have
people to talk to.
For any of you going through the NICU experience as you read this,
miracles to happen and the best thing you can give your child is love,
encouragement and the knowledge that they are special.
Tracy Peters
tpeters@mcimail.com