PRE-ECLAMPSIA
Know the signs and symptoms of pre-eclampsia. Click here

From the time a woman finds out she is pregnant, maternal instincts kick in. She does everything she can to assure that her baby is receiving the best possible care. She eats well, rests when she can, stops all those bad habits that could harm her little one in any way, and she follows her doctor's orders to the letter.

But what happens if it's not her instinct but her body that betrays her? What if her body is convinced that the little child growing inside her does not belong there? What happens if for some unknown reason, the beautiful phenomenon that is pregnancy could kill both mother and child? Silently, suddenly, and without warning, she develops high blood pressure, her vital organs - especially the kidneys and liver - become compromised, and her body begins to swell.

She has developed pre-eclampsia, or "toxemia" as it used to be called. And now, the only way she can be "cured" is to deliver her baby regardless of his gestational age. And, so, if she has discovered too late that she has this disorder, there is nothing that wonders of medicine can do for her. If she's lucky, both she and her baby survive. If not, one or both may die.

On May 7, 2006, my baby boy became a statistic, and so did I. He was one of the 1,200 babies that die each year in the United States due to pre-eclampsia complications. I became one of the women who now has an eight-time higher risk of developing cardiovascular or cerebrovascular diseases later in life from experiencing early onset severe pre-eclampsia. In fact, several recent studies indicate that women who have had pre-eclampsia are twice as likely as other women to experience hypertension, stroke, or cardiac conditions.

I was asked why I would take on this task of raising greater awareness about pre-eclampsia. First, it is a very personal cause. If one less woman suffers the loss of a baby because I have spoken out about the need to educate pregnant women, I will feel that my baby didn't die in vain. But, secondly, I am doing this because hypertensive pregnancy disorders, frequently considered transient in nature, receive little funding. In turn, little funding means less information and less education on the topic. I'm doing this to ask for your help in educating pregnant women of the signs, symptoms and potential life-long health risks of pre-eclampsia. And to let them know of the seriousness of the disease.

You see, I'll never know if I could have saved my baby or if my ignorance killed him. Perhaps had I known the signs and symptoms of pre-eclampsia, I would have gotten to a doctor earlier.

A pregnancy seven years in the making, very little about my pregnancy could be considered normal. I became pregnant through in-vitro in December 2005. Four embryos were placed in my womb. Three took according to the blood tests. By the time we had our first ultrasound, there were twins with little beating hearts. By the next, there was one. In month four, I was told that our little boy would probably be born with SLOS, and therefore, failure to thrive. That later proved to be incorrect. He was healthy.

So, when the signs of pre-eclampsia started showing, I wanted to believe that it was a natural part of pregnancy. I had been told that it was. And being slight in build, everyone who looked at me, especially those who didn't know me pre-pregnancy, said the swelling was normal, not to worry. The difference, though, was that I was only in my twenty-first week.

I waited three days prior to seeing my OB/GYN. In that time, I had already gained 4 pounds. I was 112 pounds at the beginning of the weekend and 116 pounds by the end. You see, I was out of town attending a wedding in Washington D.C. when the swelling started. This being my first pregnancy to make it past the first trimester, I really didn't know for sure if I was making a big deal out of nothing. But, when I called my doctor's office that Monday and explained how badly I was swelling, I was told to come in immediately. Within 2 hours I had gone from home, to the doctor's office, to maternity triage. My blood pressure was already 180/97. The protein in my urine was +1. At the hospital, I got all sorts of giggles - Swollen? Where? Honey, I'd love to be your size. Besides, I wasn't having headaches or seeing stars. No flashing lights or abdominal pain for me - which would have been tell-tale signs of pre-eclampsia.

Within a matter of hours, I was sent home to take my own 24-hour urine test. So I drove home to do as I was ordered. Diligently I filled the vile with my deep yellow urine. I returned it, and waited for the test results. Two days. A total of five days now, still not knowing what was going on, no one telling me that I or my baby could be in danger.

By the time the tests came back, I had entered week 22 of my pregnancy. The protein in my urine had reached +4, and my blood pressure had never decreased. I was now labeled as having early onset severe pre-eclampsia.

In the evening the day of my re-admittance to the hospital, the protein in my urine topped out at +8, or at least that was the last I heard. I was placed on Magnesium Sulfate, and realized that my worst hangover was a walk in the park in comparison to what I was now going through. I couldn't walk, I slurred my words, and vomited up what wasn't even there because I couldn't even eat. Eventually, my lungs started to fill with fluid. The fear I had always had of drowning was becoming a reality.

Every type of doctor you could imagine came in to see me. Each one with their theory on what was really making me sick. My blood pressure was dutifully monitored every 2 hours and then, eventually every 15 minutes. My blood pressure surged to 200/107. Even with that, only once did I see flashes of light. My skin stretched to the point that I felt like a balloon about to burst. My weight steadily increased - I was now 124 pounds - 136 pounds by the time they decided to transfer me to another hospital. It had been several days. How time flies when you're battling against your body.

Some of the first words uttered to me as we arrived at the new locale were, "You have to have this baby. We're going to induce you now, but we aren't going to monitor you. Your baby is too small and will die from your contractions." So, at exactly 23 weeks, I was induced into labor. It's difficult going into labor, knowing, thinking that you, with all of your motherly instincts in full gear, you would be responsible for your baby's death because your contractions will kill him. I had just been told I was going to kill my baby.

And so the contractions started. I tried to listen to those around me, to do as I was asked, but all I could hear were the waves. The liquid that filled my body closed off my ears. It vaguely reminded me of sitting on the bottom of a swimming pool and listening to the surrounding sounds. Very little was clear and everything seemed miles away. Over the next few hours, my temperature spiked - a fever of 102°. Chills followed. More meds. More instructions. More people moving in and out. All I could think was, "What if they were wrong? What if my little one survives?" I had to live so that he would have a mommy. I couldn't give up. My eyes were almost swollen shut, but thankfully, I could still see because 17 hours later, I was holding my dead baby boy, Chiqui Isaza, in my arms. He was beautiful - so tiny, so innocent - and so purple. But unlike what I had hoped, wished, and prayed, he was the one to die so that I could live. Our moments together were short-lived. He was bathed and baptized and unceremoniously taken away.

Though I had given birth, my work was not completed. The placenta had torn. Without having completely passed the placenta, my condition continued to worsen. They tried to manually remove the placenta for several hours. Eventually I went into surgery. So, from induction to the termination of surgery, 30 hours had passed.

The worst had apparently passed and then my lungs started to fill with fluid again. My blood pressure didn't show any signs of lowering, and it wouldn't for another 6 weeks. Despite this, I was transferred to a "normal" room, handed over to a multitude of student doctors, and discharged only 3 days later without a prescription for high blood pressure - assured that it would disappear in a few short days on it's own. It didn't.

Once home, it was a struggle to get up out of bed or a chair because I was still filled with so much fluid. My family took care of me - getting me to and from the bathroom, monitoring my blood pressure every 2 to 4 hours, and taking me on short walks, delicately balancing that which would help me expel the extra fluid and potentially raise my blood pressure even further. This went on for the next 6 weeks.

This is my story. Not everyone's. I realize this. However, the morale is still the same. Pre-eclampsia is potentially life-threatening to mother and child.

Be your own best advocate. If you think there is something wrong, don't hesitate to call your doctor. You know your body better than anyone. If you get brushed aside because "swelling is normal," then go to the emergency room. It's always better to be safe than sorry.