Two Hospitals — Meggan’s Night & Day Hospital Experiences with HELLP Syndrome

HELLP stands for hemolysis (the destruction of red blood cells), elevated liver enzymes and low platelet count — and it can rapidly become life-threatening for both you and your baby.

I love to travel. Even for work. Atlanta was my last work travel trip before the baby was born. The day I was to leave, Atlanta had a snowstorm & the airport shut down.

I was able to get back to a hotel and noticed I was bleeding. An ambulance rushed me the hospital. It was my experience in Atlanta that opened my eyes to the vast differences in maternal care in the US. I was in one of Atlanta’s best Labor& Deliver hospitals, but the way I was treated and the care I received was so far away from what I was experiencing from my doctor and hospital in Boston. I was told I had to wait several hours before a doctor would even see me. I was scared I was going to lose my baby at 28 weeks. I was brought in for an ultrasound many hours after being admitted. I tried to have a conversation with the doctor about my less than stellar experience, but I was told, “this is how it is at hospitals.” I held my breath until I was finally discharged.

I left the hospital relieved to be going home. Back at the airport my flight been delayed because the snowstorm had reached Boston. I waddled up to the counter to find out my options. There was one flight to Boston leaving soon but they were not boarding any more passengers. I waddled over and politely asked without showing my anxiety to board the flight. I was the last person on the plane. When I finally arrived in Boston late that evening my husband and I were so happy and relieved to see each other.

That same night I woke up at 3am with severe pain under my rib cage. I paced around our tiny apartment trying to get comfortable. A couple of hours passed & I progressed to vomiting. I called my doctor and she advised me to come into the hospital. I did not panic & methodically got dressed. The pain quickly got worse. I knew in my heart I was not in labor.

When I arrived at the ER and I was put on a bed & the only position that was slightly more comfortable was on my knees holding on the elevated rail. I rolled over periodically for ultrasounds. Blood tests and lab work began. I was hooked up to morphine. It did nothing for the pain.

I was admitted to the hospital and transported to Labor & Delivery. I was gearing myself up for three months of bed rest. It was not until the fifth or sixth doctor visit that we realized how dire the situation was becoming. My next set of lab results would determine whether I would be induced or have a C-section that day. They were very concerned about our baby’s lung development but all sighed with relief to hear that I had steroid shots as a precaution in Atlanta.

The news came back that I would be going in for a C-section. I was diagnosed with HELLP syndrome. HELLP stands for hemolysis (the destruction of red blood cells), elevated liver enzymes and low platelet count — and it can rapidly become life-threatening for both you and your baby. The only way to save both of us was to deliver the baby. I asked hopefully, “In a couple of hours?” I was told in 30 minutes. Our energy shifted. I told my husband we needed to pick a name for the baby. Through his tears he wrote her name on the white board in the room: Katja.

I had time to make three quick phone calls. I was whisked into the operating room. It was packed with people in scrubs. An epidural was administered and had to be re-done. I asked everyone to describe what they were doing to my body. I wanted to know what was happening. The operating doctor told me urgently that she needed me to stop talking so she could do her job. With my mind racing and my mouth shut I waited.

Katja was born on Ash Wednesday to the Cindy Lauper song “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun”. She screamed unhappily from her premature extraction. She was brought to me and I kissed her teeny tiny hand, almost swallowing it. The next time I saw her she was in the NICU, hours later, when I could first hold her.

The focus turned to getting us both healthy. My body was still sick. My kidneys were not functioning well & fluids were not draining properly. I started draining the excess fluid. My lungs were filling up with fluid and I had to do special breathing exercises. The pain under my rib cage subsided. It took me two days before I could even sit up. It took me three days before I could walk, heavily assisted. I was a wreck.

I was discharged after five days. It took me months before I felt like normal again. But I was grateful for the swift care I received in Boston because I might not otherwise be on this earth.

My daughter had a longer battle. It took her 113 days before she was able to come home. Her lungs were her nemesis. We still work with her on development delays from her prematurity. However, she is excelling in all ways. She would not be here if we had not received the immediate diagnosis and follow-up care needed.

What concerns me is that the maternal care varies so greatly in our country. I wince at the thought if I ended up delivering in Atlanta — so far away from home and so far away from a quality of care that I was taking for granted because until I was in need, I had nothing to compare it to. I feel a deep need to give back to the hospital that had fantastic maternal care. I invest time in volunteering as a NICU mom mentor to help moms who are bringing their baby home.