Becca & Olive

Olive’s story starts with the birth of our first daughter. I had a normal pregnancy followed by a vaginal delivery that was less than smooth. “Mal positioning” (sunny side up) caused a prolonged pushing stage of 4+ hours. This was followed by retained placenta, postpartum hemorrhage, and manual placental extraction immediately after birth and then again in postpartum following more hemorrhage, and a two hour dilation and curettage at 6 weeks postpartum during which I again hemorrhaged.

My bleeding was controlled by a bakri balloon and as I was waking, I heard nurses referring to me as “the bleeder”. My doctor came and talked to me when I was barely awake and I remember being told I was at risk of Asherman’s syndrome which may cause miscarriage and infertility.

In a follow up visit, an IUD was placed in order to help the uterus not close up due to potential scarring and I was given a prescription of estrogen. I chose to have a hysteroscopy at 9 months postpartum to reduce the risk of loss and infertility. Scar tissue was removed from the area in front of my left fallopian tube and I was told I could try to conceive again. No risks mentioned. We waited a further 4 months and then had an unexpected pregnancy that resulted in a chemical pregnancy. I was sad and nervous about future pregnancies.

In January 2023 at 20 months postpartum, we became pregnant with Olive. I was anxious throughout the first trimester, which was heightened by the fact that I had brown spotting. I was assured all was well. Throughout my pregnancy, I asked about the position and function of the placenta and was reassured at each appointment that the baby looked good and therefore the placenta was good.

I was told the placenta was in the back of the uterus and was so relieved because I had had an anterior placenta with my first. I saw a different provider at almost every appointment. I texted several friends as well as my doula about my concerns that no one was paying attention to my situation.

At almost every appointment I repeated my medical history since no one appeared to be aware of my previous complications. I felt exhausted and frustrated, but I did not have an option to transfer care at that point and the group I was with was the most highly recommended in the area.

I had vague feelings of worry that I suppressed, telling myself that they would tell me if anything was wrong.

On October 8th 2023, I woke up not having slept well. I felt abdominal discomfort. I immediately got to work making some freezer meals for postpartum because I suspected labor was imminent. We were planning to go to the pumpkin patch at around 3 pm and I sat in the car. Suddenly I knew I could not go and told my husband I just didn’t feel good. My stomach felt sore and heavy.

We went back inside and I started to have an intense cramp in my lower left side. It did not stop. We called my doula who immediately came to our house and drove with us to the hospital. She told me she thought I was in transition and I remember asking “can contractions be nonstop?” She wheeled me into the hospital while my husband took our two year old home to wait for the sitter. When we got to L and D, I was relieved to see the midwife I had seen the most and trusted the most.

I was immediately checked due to my doula thinking I was in labor. I was only 1 cm dilated. The cervical check was excruciating. I could not move at all from my back without assistance and felt cramps at the top of my stomach. I remember being asked if the baby had been moving normally and I said I didn’t know because I’d been so uncomfortable and that she had possibly been moving less.

I was then given a brief ultrasound and was reassured she was in the right position and her heart rate was fine. I remember feeling utter confusion and embarrassment as everyone was looking at me like everything was fine and yet I still felt terrible. I also felt relieved that they were telling me all was well. It was assumed to be gas.

I remember saying multiple times “why does it hurt so much?” I was put on the monitor which was so painful when it touched my bump. I was again reassured that all looked well and great.

As I laid back, I whimpered and complained of charley horse cramps and again could not move out of the prone position at all. My entire stomach felt achy and sore. I remember saying it felt different than my first labor and that it felt weird.

I was prescribed pain relief and resisted taking it, saying I don’t like to take medication during pregnancy, but I was pressured to take it so I did.

I felt so confused. We were discharged( by a first year resident who had been a doctor for 1 month, I later learned) and my husband was confidently told that I would feel better at home when he expressed concern over my pain.

I was wheeled out of the hospital unable to walk and everyone around me acted like that was normal. We got home and I hobbled to the shower hoping it would help relieve the pain.

About 20 minutes later I realized the pain was definitely not improving and was worsening. Consulting our doula over the phone, she asked if we should call 911 and that seemed like the fastest, safest way to the hospital—so we did.

Just 15 minutes after we called 911, I felt a ripping sensation, indescribably horrible pain, and immediately collapsed, unable to move at all. My husband called 911 again and was spoken to impatiently, as if we were being dramatic, and was eventually told that they would “move us up in priority.” Another 15 minutes went by and finally a team arrived, but they were entirely outmatched by my condition. We learned that they were “transport only”. Another team eventually arrived and about 30 minutes after the arrival of the first team, 1 hour after we initially called, I was finally loaded into the ambulance despite begging them to take me to the hospital since their arrival. I learned that my blood pressure was 40/20 and they were attempting to stabilize me. My vision went black several times and I could not breathe well. I felt horror and terror, knowing I was dying, and a deep feeling of dread.

When we arrived back at the hospital, there was chaos and confusion. Medical personnel were yelling that I was just here. The anesthesiologist got close to me and asked me what I was feeling. He determined that I could not breathe and made the decision to immediately intubate. I feel such gratitude to him amidst the tragedy of this story, for being the only professional around who listened to the symptoms I was describing. I remember a nurse holding my hands calmly and keeping my eyes locked saying that it would be okay. I remember believing she was the last person I would see. The last thing I heard was that they had a fetal heart rate. I later learned that it was probably mine (at 180 bpm).

I was in surgery for 5 hours, during which time my husband was told that I may not wake up and if I did, it would likely take 3-5 days. He was told at the same time that the baby would not make it and that he should hold her while she passed.

I woke up 5 hours later in the ICU on a ventilator pointing to my stomach, knowing I was no longer pregnant. I saw my husband and searched his face, continuing to point. I knew from his face immediately that my worst fear had happened. A big part of me also died in that moment. Not a moment goes by where I do not long for Olive to be with her family here, like she should be.
Doctors came into the room after I was extubated and shared that I had had a uterine rupture and a suspected placenta accreta. (Later, I learned from the doctor who saved my life that my rupture had been 13cm across the fundus and that accreta was confirmed). They had to perform a hysterectomy to save my life. I had multiple blood transfusions.

I kept sobbing and repeating “no one listened to me. She should be here.” And though I don’t continue to repeat those words still, they are on loop in my head constantly and still as true as when I first spoke them. I feel like there is a parallel shadow world just out of reach where everything on that day went differently.

I am so thankful for the community of rupture moms I have connected with and also heartbroken by the other tragic stories I’ve heard. We all have different stories, but some tragic similarities exist in each story of loss I have heard. Lack of awareness and education on rupture and how it can present, as well as dismissing mother’s pain and intuition, are common threads in our stories.
I hope that out of our pain, we can fight for meaningful change and better outcomes for future moms and babies.