Team Fernandes

Why Every Birthday Matters to Us 💙

Going into my pregnancy, I had a perfectly normal BMI, 90/65 BP, led a pretty active lifestyle and healthy diet, attended all my scheduled doctor appointments, and took prenatal vitamins and DHA supplements religiously. I anticipated going straight into full term and expected a normal, vaginal birth without complications.

A week before Dakota’s birth in my 36th week of gestation, I noticed a decline in fetal movements, so I went to the hospital on the weekend to have it checked out. The birthing center at Markham Stouffville Hospital (MSH) strapped me to a fetal heart rate monitor and fed me some ice cold orange juice. I was to press a button every time I felt the baby move. The baby’s heart rate was normal, but the doctor said her heart rate was not fluctuating as much as he would have liked at each kick. He advised me to come in for an ultrasound the next day, but the results were also normal.

My next OB appointment was scheduled for Thursday afternoon so I went about my work week believing everything was normal. When I met with my OB on Thursday, she said babies are almost always fine but she wanted me to go in for another fetal stress test and ultrasound just in case. (Thank you Dr. Linkenheil, for making the right move.)

The ultrasound specialist sounded promising when she said fluids were normal and baby’s heart rate seemed okay. I headed back up to triage area and waited around for about 2 hours before they strapped me down to the fetal heart rate monitor. At that moment I was still reassured that all was good.

Then suddenly things happened very fast. A few minutes after my husband showed up, the doctor on call that night said she didn’t like what she saw from the ultrasound results. There are four things that they look for in an ultrasound: fluid levels, tones, fetal movement, and heart rate. On Sunday, I was sent home because the baby was doing well in 3 of the 4 areas except for movement, but on Thursday only the fluid levels were normal. Within a few minutes’ time, I was shuttled into an operating room, shaking uncontrollably from fear while an anesthetist stuck an epidural down my spine for an emergency C-Section. Everything the doctor and nurses explained to me sounded like a foreign language because my brain couldn’t comprehend what was happening. Another few short minutes later, my husband was geared up in a gown and sat on a stool to the left of my head, reassuring me that everything would be fine. No matter how drugged up I was, I knew we were both in complete shock.

My husband later described what he saw as the baby was removed from my belly. He said it looked as if I was being attacked by a shark; there was an enormous amount of tugging and shaking of my body and the operating table. The doctor later explained that it was difficult getting the baby out because her stomach was swollen by an extra 4 cm from fluid buildup. Even when I heard a little voice crying off in the distance, everything still felt very strange.

Once I was stitched up and past the recovery period, I was heavily sedated and wheeled over to meet my daughter for the first time. The pediatrician explained that they were unable to pinpoint the cause of the swelling of Dakota’s belly nor determine what type of fluid it was. They performed some tests and found that her white blood cell count was higher than normal, which indicated that there was an infection. I asked what her chances of survival were but the doctor could not answer. They wheeled me into a postpartum room where I waited several dreadful hours while they performed more tests on Dakota. The possibility of losing my child was too unbearable.

Several hours later, a transport team from Sick Kids Hospital wheeled Dakota into my room in an incubator. We said goodbye to my 8 hour old baby. It was truly emotionally and physically traumatic to be separated from her after being literally attached to her these past 9 months.

Three hours later, we received a phone call from Sick Kids informing us that the X-ray and ultrasound found a perforation in the intestinal track, requiring an immediate blood transfusion and consent for operation. We consented of course, and my husband left for Sick Kids while I stayed at MSH to recover. Out of the 20 years I’ve known my husband, I’ve never seen him cry. He cried a lot that day during his drive down to Sick Kids.

Another grim 2 hours later, my husband wrote me updates me via text messages. Surgery went well, he said, only part of the small intestines were twisted, which they removed. The large bowel was fine and did not need operation. We will wait to see how she recovers over the next 48 hours to see if the surgery went well and hope that the joints of the bowels don’t leak. That was the first moment I realized how powerful a mother’s love for her child is. I can’t explain how heartbroken I felt when my husband sent me her post-op photos.

She’s alive and stable. Dakota’s currently at the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit (NICU) at Sick Kids Hospital and recovering very well. Not even half a day old, she has had 50 cm of her small intestines removed (40% of her bowel), a large 4-inch incision across her tiny body, but she’s strong and will get to come home in 4 weeks. Moms-to-be, make sure you count those kicks!

We want to share our heartfelt thank you to the entire NICU team at Sick Kids who are providing us with incredible support. The NICU team has made such a horrible time bearable for my husband and I and the nurses have an unwaivering dedication that Dakota is always comfortable during her recovery. We have made a $500 donation to Sick Kids Foundation and are committed to donating each year on Dakota’s birthday. We hope that you can share your compassion and support with us for the legions of health professionals who work so hard and devote their lives to extraordinary patient care. (Kudos, Canadian Healthcare!)