Not Just One Cent

After struggling to conceive for almost 3 years, having to endure miscarriage, and living through a global pandemic, Jenny and I found ourselves starting the process of IVF. Six fertilized eggs and one egg transfer later, we found our lucky Penny. After all this time, we finally saw that double pink line.

Jenny’s pregnancy has been high risk from the start. She’s 37, has Polycystic Ovary Syndrome (PCOS), and started having elevated blood pressure early-on. On top of that, the baby was measuring fairly small on her ultrasounds and growth scans, about one to two weeks behind in size. Between the blood pressure and the baby’s slow growth, Jenny started receiving more attention, more doctor’s visits, more scans. After struggling for so long to get here, we remained cautiously optimistic, nervous to share our good news.

Before we knew it, though, we were one day away from week 24, the mile marker that most parents feel is the point of no return, when a baby has a good chance of viability outside the womb. A time to breathe a sigh of relief. But relief never came.

On Friday, March 11th, things took a pretty bad turn and brought us to Northwestern Prentice Women’s Hospital. Jenny’s urine showed high counts of protein, which, combined with the elevated blood pressure was a sign of of pre-eclampsia, a severe blood pressure imbalance which can complicate the health of the baby and mother.

They brought us into triage for the Labor & Delivery department so they could closely monitor Jenny’s vitals. After about an hour in triage, her blood pressure sky rocketed to severe levels, so she was rushed up to a room on the Labor & Delivery floor and hit with an IV push of blood pressure meds to get her numbers back down quickly. At severe levels, they worry about the baby not getting enough blood, which can cause a still birth or Jenny having a stroke or heart attack. They were able to get the blood pressure back down, but told us they’d be keeping her overnight for monitoring.

24 hours and countless talks with doctors later, we were moving up to the antepartum floor, a place for pregnant women who need extended stays in the hospital. They officially diagnosed Jenny with pre-eclampsia. Between the slow growth of the baby and the pre-eclampsia, which threatens both Jenny’s life and the baby’s, they didn’t want her to leave the hospital until the baby had been delivered. While 24 weeks does mean good odds of viability, her chances of survival outside the womb were about 50%. So ideally we would be waiting as long as humanly possible for them to induce labor, at which point the baby would need to be in the NICU until she’s healthy enough to go home. They were hoping to give the baby at least 8 to 10 weeks to grow in the womb before pulling her out.

Which means in the best case scenario, we were staying in the hospital for the next two months or more while they monitored the health of both Jenny and the baby, in hopes that both could leave healthy.

Jenny had a headache since they started her on the blood pressure meds. They worked on getting it under control because that can be a sign of the pre-eclampsia worsening. The headache subsided late Saturday night but then abdominal pain started. It was manageable for most of the night but early the next morning, the pain started elevating and would not subside. And now her bloodwork was showing slightly elevated liver enzymes.

Between those two symptoms, they worried the pre-eclampsia was quickly worsening and that she might develop HELLP syndrome, which would mean needing to deliver ASAP or suffer the risk of heart attack, stroke, coma, or death. They gave Jenny a steroid shot in case they needed to deliver any time soon, which would help the baby’s lungs quickly develop and strengthen her chances for a successful delivery.

Jenny was given a dose of oxycodone and the pain was manageable for the time being. We waited on more blood work to see how the numbers were trending, and results of a growth scan for the baby to get a better picture of how she was doing.

We were both so scared. Terrified. But I tried to keep it together for Jenny and keep her relaxed and focused on taking it one step at a time. Baby steps. If this had to happen, I felt like we were at one of the best hospitals it could happen at.

Jenny’s pre-eclampsia worsened on Sunday night, and on Monday morning her bloodwork confirmed that she had severe pre-eclampsia and HELLP syndrome, which meant they had to start the process of delivering the baby to give her and Jenny the best chance of survival. After 12 hours, it was clear a natural birth wasn’t going to be possible and we opted for a c-section, knowing the unbearable truth that we may never get to meet her.

At 12:42 PM on Tuesday, March 15th our baby, Penelope Ann Schuler was born at 10.6 oz and measured a mere 8 1/2 inches long. While the team feared they couldn’t, their skilled hands were amazingly able to intubate Penny despite her size, and both Jenny and I got to see our baby girl before she was rushed up to the NICU where she could be in constant care.

We’re taking it hour by hour and thankful for each minute she’s with us. We have a long road ahead of us, and we know there are a lot of risks and hurdles, but we remain guardedly hopeful.

When Jenny was in grade school, she and the other students were asked to write poems about each other. The following was written by a classmate about Jenny:

Jenny is a penny.
But not just one cent.
She is a million dollars.

Jenny never forgot that poem, and we thought it was only fitting to alter it given the circumstances.

Jenny has a Penny.
But not just one cent.
She is a million dollars.