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AMTC - For Moms Who Can't Even
Mom Life

My Birth Story: HELLPS

It was May 18, 2013. And hooray! Just one more day until I was in my third trimester. I was nice and ready to coast through the next 12 weeks of pregnancy. I had been taking the hospital-advertised fitness classes, completed the hospital tour, took baby prep courses, and decided to attempt to breastfeed upon delivery with the help of a ready fleet of lactation consultants. Single at the time, I lived alone in my one bedroom apartment. I had yet to have the usual work and family issued baby showers, and for now, my accumulation of stuff was minimal. However, I had already envisioned the placement of new baby furniture that eased my anxieties of an overcrowded space, my new baby, and me.

I was preparing for bed when a huge wave of nausea swept over me. …what? I hadn’t felt nausea since my first trimester. I downed some Tums. Then more pain. Pain that forced me to double over. I’d try to stand, but the pain forced my gaze back to my puffy ankles. Those days, at day’s end, I retained water in my ankles despite my attempts to avoid sodium. I tried not to panic. Breathe Aryeonne. I held my pregnant belly and while still bent over, waddled to my bed, and tried to lie down. The moment I sat on the bed, I felt dizziness and another wave of nausea. This time the nausea sent me to the toilet. I vomited. Then, I allowed myself to panic and think. Ok. Think. Vomiting is not good this late in the game. I remembered reading that it could be indicative of a serious issue. **SIGH**

My mind jumped back to when I went to the emergency room in the middle of my second trimester for a similar pain. I distinctly remember feeling engulfed in embarrassment when the rushed ER doctor, who hadn’t ordered blood work or any other medical service, said: “It’s an extreme case of gas. Welcome to being pregnant.” I was snapped back into reality by the worsening pain and the need to vomit a second time.

At the time, I was not dating my son’s father. We had broken up. It took EVERYTHING in my being to call him and attempt to explain what was going on. But I did. I told him that vomiting was bad and we needed to get to the ER if to do nothing else but check on the baby. He got there, and I could barely speak or stand up straight because the pain was so intense. He recommended going to the birth hospital especially since the other hospital sent me away with Tums samples. I didn’t care where I went at the time because I was hurting so badly.

When I arrived at the hospital, I was whisked off to labor and delivery because they thought I was in labor. I finally gathered the strength to scream: “I’M NOT IN LABOR BUT THERE IS SOMETHING WRONG!”, gasping for air and nearly passing out. I was moved into a room where a nurse began to examine me. . She asked me about the pain, where it was, how it felt, etc. The pain was so widespread across my abdomen that specifics from me weren’t happening. The on call doctor finally came in and asked more questions. She said something about my gall bladder and then ordered blood work and an ultrasound. I was feeling faint. I remember a midwife busting through the door in surgery garb all flustered and in tizzy. She looked at me after composing herself and began to explain how I was in great hands with my doctor and this hospital was one of the best hospitals in the country for labor and delivery. She said she was the calm before the storm and that when the doctor arrived everything would go into warp speed. She also let me know that my baby had to be delivered in the next 30 minutes via emergency cesarean section. Then she asked me if I was a Jehovah’s Witness. Extreme fear is ice cold, and its grip is paralyzing. What if I don’t wake up? What if I had taken too long and killed the baby somehow? Too much stress. I did too much – school, internships, work – so selfish. Why had I decided to do this alone?

When anesthesiologist arrived, he interrupted my self-loathing and wheeled me to the OR to be prepped for surgery. The on call doctor met us in transit and began to explain that I had HELLP Syndrome (https://rarediseases.info.nih.gov/diseases/8528/hellp-syndrome) – an acute illness that makes eclampsia look fun. She said that my body was rejecting the pregnancy and my body was poisoning itself. My liver was about to rupture and my blood platelet count was in the four-digit thousands. In other words, if I had bled for any reason, I would have bled out in no time.

One of the last things I remember was another nurse joining the fast-paced walk to the OR. She held my hand and looked me in the eyes then nodded to show solidarity. Then, turning her focus back to keep up the pace,I watched her lips mouth the Lord’s Prayer. After that, I remember feeling warmth and watching my eyelids close as a result of the anesthetic.

I woke up. I woke up! Disoriented and numb. Everything was blurry. I was so tired. I woke up in ICU, couldn’t gather the strength to ask about my baby, and fell asleep again. I woke up a second time – hours later. So many faces – my family and close friends were all lined up on the wall of the post-ICU room with concerned faces and contorted smiles. I was still groggy, but I had a bit more energy and tried to smile back. The doctor came in and showed me my morphine pump and how to use it. Praise the Lord for morphine. The nurse who was with me initially came with a second nurse to help me sit up. I had machines massaging my legs and saw signs indicating to the nurses that I wasn’t allowed to get up. The doctor told me that she was happy that I was awake, but that I had a long journey ahead of me. What I didn’t know is that many HELLP Syndrome patients die after giving birth. They die because their bodies have to restart. My body had to restart.

I had hardly any kidney function and I was prone to seizures. My blood pressure was sky high and I had to wait to see what route my body would take to reach equilibrium – some people never do. I was in the hospital for a week. One nurse noticed that my blood oxygen levels had dropped well below normal. Got an x-ray and discovered I had fluid on my lungs, and nurses would come in hourly to hold pillows against my incision to make sure it stayed closed as I was coughing up phlegm until my nose bled. I had nose bleeds easily because my blood still wasn’t clotting.

I finally got to see my son on the 3rd day of my hospital stay. I was overjoyed. He was tiny, but I could tell he was strong. He was actually, at the time, in a more stable state than I was. He was off the ventilator after an hour and his brain bleeds from emergency cesarean were resolving. I got back to my room, and my blood pressure was stroke level – even on all 3 blood pressure medications. The nurses and my family played soft music for me and continuously told me to relax – as in try not to be excited or worry about anything – the irony.

After a couple more miserable days, my birthday came and my grad school cohort sent me an Edible Arrangement. I must have looked like death, because the delivery guy said, “happy birthday – um, everything is going to be ok.” and scurried off. The next day, I felt strength for the first time. The lactation consultant came in with a hospital grade pump, and one of my best friends came and coached me through my first pumps of golden beta-carotene rich colostrum (co·los·trum/kəˈlästrəm – the first secretion from the mammary glands after giving birth, rich in antibodies). My bestie and I smiled at each other, and the nurse was thrilled, and quickly took it to give to my son. He had been on donor breast milk since birth and would be until I got the hang of pumping.

The next day (around day 6) a random nurse came into the room and asked if she could hug me. I let her, and she explained that she almost didn’t recognize me, and that she was happy that I survived. She explained that my eyes were yellow and I had no color in my face. That really hit home. The next few days would be visits to see my son and finding the right medicines for me to take until I was completely well. Getting better would take months, and getting back to myself would take even longer. Nonetheless, I was discharged from the hospital and went home for the first time in 7 days. My days away from the hospital would be few for quite a while, as I’d need to come back frequently in the next 3 months to visit my son in the NICU. I also was lucky enough to find a HELLP Syndrome support group, and that lifted some of the guilt somehow.

There is still much unknown about HELLP Syndrome. Researchers are still gathering data about the short term and long term effects. After my hospital stay, I noticed my vision was way worse, I still retained water, and any little stressor caused a headache. Eventually, I’d say over a year later, these things began to subside. No one knows why I fell prey to it after many weeks of clean bills of health from my then OB/GYN (As soon as I was able, I switched to the on call OB/GYN). All I know is that I’m glad that I didn’t ignore my symptoms and I gathered the courage to speak up. I later learned that if I had’ve ignored the pain and forced myself to sleep, my baby and I wouldn’t be here today.

Listen to your body and be adamant and insistent about your health, sis. If they don’t listen, get a second opinion. See below for traumatic birth support group info:

Solace For Mothers Improving Birth Northside Maternity Resources (Atlanta)

Read this for my post-childbirth update: https://amotherthingcoming.com/2019/03/04/about-that-preemie-life/

We support March of Dimes. Join our team – march and/or donate: https://www.marchforbabies.org/sollylevi

April 4, 2019by Aryeonne Johnson
Travel

Black in Spain back in the day – Parte Uno

It’s been 11 years since I studied abroad at the University of Valencia in Spain, but since then I’ve been meaning to write about it cuz boy, was it was somthin’. I regret not writing about it sooner. Here goes.

So there I was, trying to secure my second undergraduate degree, this time for Spanish for International Business. This was a part of my self-discovery journey that just so happened to coincide with a portion of my best friend’s Valencia trip to visit her husband’s family. PERFECT! Or so I thought… I was not seeing the full picture because she would be there for just a couple of weekends. I, on the other hand, would be there for the rest of the summer.

Georgia State University has a Study Abroad Office that has minority scholarships to encourage  diversity in their study abroad program enrollment. Not many black folks did so at the time – especially not black American students. Free money to travel? Ok. I was in.

I wasn’t exactly rolling in the dough at the time. I had a little in savings, and I was taking sabbatical from my job – which meant a lot of free time that came with no paychecks. Oh well, I thought to myself, this opportunity has my name written all over it, so it has to work out. And on top of that, someone I knew offered me a GREAT deal on a buddy pass. That sealed the deal. Que viva Espana – this black girl was going to Spain!

I’m pictured here on my first day in Valencia – exploring with new friends.

I was one of the first in my group to arrive to the Madrid airport. I’ll never forget. So accustomed to the air conditioned airports of the US, I inhaled warm stale air that smelled of people and food. I was there super early because there were plenty of seats available for flights departing for Spain because of the huge US airport market. This was unlike Spain where droves of people exited the country in the summers and flights were often overbooked. Anywho, I was in Madrid and I immediately felt the weight of being a foreigner. Cool. I waited for 4 hours in baggage claim until I saw a short gentleman with a sign that read ISA (International Studies Abroad), the name of my study abroad company. I greeted him in English, and he responded in Spanish and let me know that my English needed to stay in the airport. Slowly, new faces accumulated around me. Kids from all over the United States. No one from Georgia. Also, I was beginning to notice that no one was black, which was nothing new for me.

However, the Madrid airport was peppered with voices speaking in various languages and all kinds of skin tones and hair types. After everyone arrived, the ISA leader took us to a chartered bus. YAS! I remember thinking: This is the life. The study abroad rep’s call to us was “Wakey Wakey, Eggs and Bakey” even when it wasn’t morning. It was to get our attention. He explained that we would stay in Madrid for just the next day to see the Prado, and after that we’d hop back on the bus for a 4 hour long trek en route to Valencia. He said that not many spoke English and that we should follow suit. **To be continued…

April 4, 2019by Aryeonne Johnson
Kid Stuff

How I introduced the Elements of the Periodic Table to my 3 year old

Yep. Do it. Start now. I’m a big proponent of introducing complex concepts to children early – in a fun way. When Solomon was little we used to watch education YouTube vids and happened upon this:

He LOVED it! It’s so catchy, and he requested to hear it at least once a day – over and over. And who was I to say no, lol. As he babbled what he didn’t realize was literally the building blocks of all the things and would eventually be on all his Chemistry exams, I formed a lesson plan around it. I let him listen to it every day (he still does). Then, I began introducing a few of them by associating them with stuff he used/saw every day. e.g. Oxygen (air we breathe), Fluorine (for our pretty teeth – toothpaste)

He naturally began to pick ones he was interested in on his own. Nerd seed planted :).

Check these out too:

Periodic Table Meal Placemat (can be used as a poster too!):

  • Educational stuff laying around frequent use spaces promotes learning – chew and read kiddos!

https://amzn.to/2Iwq9VN

Periodic Table Song with the lyrics (for the readers & the song is fast near the end, so this provides much needed clarity):

Periodic Table Song for 5 hours straight (apologies in advance, as this song will forever be embedded in your brain):

April 4, 2019by Aryeonne Johnson
Kid Stuff

Kids Gift Recommendation: The Best Marble Run

My son and I happened upon a super cool engineering toy that we wanted to share with you. My boyfriend says it’s been around a long time, but it’s my first time ever hearing of it. It’s called Marble Run, and it’s a tiny engineer’s dream.

Why It’s Good:

Similar to LEGO, it requires kids to build strength in their hands and fingers by attaching, detaching, and reattaching parts of the structure. It also requires design-thinking and creativity. Each piece that the marble can roll down has a closed side and an open side. The goal is to design structures that you can drop marbles into to make a marble obstacle course of sorts. The engineering part comes in when your child builds something with a route in mind, but the marble does something completely different. Then, the have to re-evaluate their design and think about what they need to do to achieve their intended goal. Love love love that about this toy. I even have a good time with this – it’s for all ages, really.

There’s just one catch. When you go to Amazon or wherever to search, you’ll find that sooo many vendors make this toy and most of them are TERRIBLY made. How do I know? I’ve purchased 3 of them. I took my loss on the first one, returned the 2nd one (a piece literally cracked in my child’s hand), and decided to spend some time carefully researching (product reviews can be super shady nowadays). The bad Marble Run sets are hard to stack together, which makes a small child lose interest and the parent ends up doing the building. Also, the bad sets have cheap, fake marbles, which takes a lot away from the whole concept of having smooth, shiny marbles that will make parents nostalgic.

And now I present to you the best Marble Run:

https://amzn.to/2Iyq9Vs

This set has beautiful, real marbles (makes that satisfying clanking sound), and it has parts that are easy to stack together for the marbles to travel through. There are sturdy funnels, windmills, and other cool parts that will get your kiddo’s noodle going. The perfect birthday gift for any child. It’s one of our favorite developmental family toys. Again, don’t be fooled when you see a cheap one – this one will make a great gift for any child (see choking hazard age before purchasing).

April 4, 2019by Aryeonne Johnson

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“For when a child is born the mother also is born again." -Gilbert Parker

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