In the United States, over 700 women lose their lives each year due to pregnancy-related complications, with two-thirds of these tragedies being preventable. I never realized that the U.S. has a higher maternal mortality rate than any other developed nation until I nearly became one of those statistics myself.
Life often throws us into situations beyond our control. The day I experienced near-fatal blood loss is etched in my memory, a day that took time to fully process and accept. In 2016, I was expecting my second child. After undergoing a C-section with my first, my doctor recommended another for this pregnancy. We scheduled the surgery for November 9.
The morning of the procedure unfolded seamlessly as we made our way to the hospital, filled with excitement to welcome our second child. At 7:04 a.m., my doctor announced, “It’s a girl!” We were overjoyed to have a little sister for our first daughter, whom we named Emma. Our baby girl weighed in at a healthy eight and a half pounds, and my recovery journey began.
Once settled into my private room, my recovery nurse came in to assess my pain level. I noted that it felt significantly worse than my first experience. After taking my blood pressure, she assured me that they would soon bring Emma to me. As I waited, I chatted with my husband and watched TV, but as time passed, my discomfort intensified. I confided in my husband that the pain was escalating and more severe than before. He was supportive, but his comfort could only do so much.
When the nurse returned, I rated my pain at a 10, perhaps even more. Despite my high pain tolerance, I was becoming increasingly alarmed. She checked my uterus and claimed it was contracting normally and that variations in pain were common in subsequent C-sections. I wanted to trust her, but something felt off.
When they brought Emma to me, it was a beautiful moment. She latched on immediately and breastfed like a champion—an experience I savored despite my ongoing pain. After a brief feeding, she was taken back to the nursery, and I resumed chatting with my husband until the unimaginable happened. I hunched over in bed as sharp cramps surged through me, feeling as though my insides were tearing apart. Blood quickly soaked the sheets, and panic set in.
My husband sprang into action, desperately seeking help. My primary nurse rushed in, clearly frightened. In moments, I was surrounded by nearly ten nurses. It felt surreal, akin to a scene from a medical drama. As pain and blood loss persisted, I found myself in an out-of-body experience.
In the chaos, a voice cut through the noise: “Hi, I’m Sarah, the head nurse.” She took my hand, explaining she needed to perform an internal exam, which would be painful. My husband held my hand tightly, offering words of encouragement that felt distant amid my agony. I screamed as she assessed my condition, her arm emerging covered in blood. “I need to push down on your stomach to help your uterus contract,” she said. I was close to passing out from the intensity of the pain.
“Why didn’t anyone notice she was hemorrhaging?” she admonished my primary nurse. Panic gripped me as Sarah shouted for a doctor to come urgently.
Minutes felt like an eternity as I wrestled with thoughts of mortality and desperation. “I might not make it today. This can’t be happening,” rushed through my mind in waves. My surroundings became blurry as the pain intensified.
Finally, my doctor arrived. Relief washed over me, akin to a child discovering a longed-for gift on Christmas morning. He held my hand and assured me, “Don’t worry; I’ll take care of you. We need to put you under anesthesia now.” With a brief goodbye to my husband, I drifted away.
Upon waking up, I was overwhelmed with gratitude. “I’m still here! Thank you!” I felt pain-free but uncertain if it was due to the anesthesia or the surgery. My husband’s face appeared, and he asked how I felt, relief evident in his voice.
My doctor visited soon after, explaining that the surgery had been successful, but I had lost a lot of blood. He warned that my recovery would be different and that I would need a blood transfusion. The transfusion took eight hours, connecting me to a life-saving machine as I received blood from strangers who contributed to my survival. My perspective on blood donation changed that day.
My relationship with my husband was forever altered as well. Facing near loss made us appreciate each moment. He stepped up to help in ways I never imagined. Once, when I passed a concerning blood clot without a nurse nearby, he put on gloves and retrieved it himself, determined to prevent it from being discarded. This experience solidified the meaning of our wedding vows.
Seeing my daughters after everything was a sobering moment. I could return home to them, yet the reality of what I almost lost weighed heavily on me. After a few days in the hospital, I was home but limited in my actions. Emotionally, I struggled, wrestling with feelings of shock and gratitude that often collided.
So, how does confronting mortality change a person? I learned the power of prayer that day. The little stresses seemed trivial, and I discovered the importance of taking a moment to breathe and appreciate life. “Count your blessings” became a mantra rather than a saying.
I later discovered that my nurse was fresh out of nursing school, facing her first real crisis. I owe a debt of gratitude to Sarah for stepping up in a critical moment. Her swift actions saved my life, as did my doctor’s expertise and compassion.
This experience crystallized the lesson that life is unpredictable. In a life-and-death situation, you learn that there’s so much out of your control. This is a journey that both my husband and I are still navigating today.
Did you know that the maternal mortality rate in the U.S. continues to climb? It has been rising since 1990. This is my story, and I am profoundly grateful to share it. Ladies, be your own advocates—speak up when something feels off. You know your body best, and if you don’t stand up for yourself, who will?
For those exploring family-building options, I recommend checking out this excellent resource from Resolve. You might also find helpful insights in our post about navigating your fertility journey. If you’re interested in alternative nutrition during this time, consider exploring almond milk and its benefits.
In summary, my experience is a stark reminder of the importance of self-advocacy in healthcare. It highlights the need for awareness around maternal health and the systemic issues that contribute to preventable tragedies.