Needles...no thank you

Needles.  Never been a fan, and never will be.  I don't understand why people act like they are no big deal.  They are sharp, hard, and they hurt.  Things aren't supposed to poke through your skin, so why on earth would we want them to?  For the last three years, every other day I have been poked four times with fifteen gauge needles.  For those of you who don't know the size of them, they are big.  Every single time they poked me, I flinched, and I never got used to them.  So it was quite a treat when my doctor told me about Peritoneal Dialysis, and how needles are no where to be found with PD.

Picture of needles in my fistula.

It's the night before I start training for Peritoneal Dialysis, and lot of emotions are running through my body now.  I feel excitement, anxiety, happiness, and yet sadness at the same time.  It has only been three years since my kidneys failed during my pregnancy with Asher.  But for some reason those three years have seemed like a lifetime.  In some ways I have a hard time remembering what it was like to not go into the dialysis clinic every other day.  Life before dialysis seems almost like a hazy dream.

I remember the day that I just knew something was off.  I woke up in a comfortable bed, in beautiful St. Augustine, FL.  If you haven't been there, then make sure that you go!  My husband Ryan and I had gone to Cocoa Beach, FL to visit some of my favorite people Michael and Anna Marie Morris.  All four of us decided to make the trip north to St. Augustine because we really wanted Ryan to visit, and it was one of our favorite places to go when I came to Florida.  I woke up feeling so nauseated I thought I was going to throw up my stomach, since I had no food in it.  I rattled my brain trying to figure out what it was I ate that made me so sick.  Everything around me made me want to throw up.  The smell of coffee, the taste in my mouth, and even the bright sun shining through my window.

We decided to go have breakfast in this cute little cafe on the water.  I ordered a big breakfast thinking that if I ate, I would feel better.  I was wrong.  The minute that food hit my stomach I became sick.  I ran to the bathroom, praying that I would make it to the toilet.  I did, and as I was puking everything I had just ate, I just knew...I was pregnant.

I started to panic.  This wasn't something that I wanted at this time in my life.  Planning was important to me, and having a baby right now was not in the plan.  In fact, I wasn't sure if it was ever in my plan.  At 18 years old, I was diagnosed with Chronic Renal Disease, and only had about 30% of my kidney function left.  I was a little concerned about how the kidney issue was going to effect my newly made baby.

When we came back home we immediately went to the doctor to find out how far along we were, and what our next steps were.  By this time, both Ryan and I had come to peace with the pregnancy, and we were rather excited about the little bean.  The first doctor we saw was so scared about my pregnancy, that she refused to see me at all.  She had never worked with a pregnant woman who had kidney issues before, so she referred me to a high risk pregnancy specialist.

The first time I met my new doctor, she was different, to say the least.  Not someone who I would say had the bedside manner award posted on her wall.  she informed us of the risks and complications that could arise from a pregnancy this high risk, and then she warned us that more then likely our baby would be born early.

Lets fast forward about four months.  I am a senior at Washington State University, student teaching at Cascade Middle School, and looking forward to finally being a teacher. As I am thinking about everything I need to do for the next week, I am walking into another appointment with another doctor.  I am just about to meet my new nephrologist for the first time.  For those of you who are wondering, a nephrologist is a doctor who specializes in kidney health and mainly works with patients who have reduced kidney function, or who have kidney failure and are on dialysis.  As I am sitting there on the table, waiting for her to come in, I am thinking not about what she is about to tell me, but I am thinking about my homework, student teaching, and what I need to do to prepare for my next lesson plan.

I hear a knock at the door, and in walks in my new doctor.  I knew immediately that something was wrong because she had that face on.  You know, THAT face.  The face of doom, that bad news is about to be said, and you need to brace yourself.  She gets right to the point, and informs me that my kidney function had dropped in half within a month, and I needed to be hospitalized right away.  I sat their with my mouth half open, and then finally got the words out, "okay...for how long?"  She told me she didn't know, and it would most likely be until the end of my pregnancy, if I made it that long.

Immediately my heart started to beat faster, and my mind started to race.  I had never been hospitalized in my life, and I just kept thinking...needles.  Big ones, small ones, needles that stick in your arm and never come out.  I shuddered at the thought.  Ouch.

I was admitted to Providence St. Vincent antepartum unit on December 7th, 2009.  Things went pretty easy for the first week.  I was seen every day by what seemed a million different people.  My blood was taken every day, twice a day...ugh needles.  And I ate the worst food I had ever had in my life.  On December 13th, 2009, the doctors decided that it was time to put me on dialysis.  They wanted to keep me pregnant as long as possible while controlling my blood pressure with medication, and cleaning my blood with dialysis.  I remember not thinking much of going on dialysis, it didn't really hit me until I sat in the chair and I saw my blood being pumped out of my body and go through a machine.

First day on dialysis.  They made me wear that hideous mask, ugh!

I thought it was pretty cool at first.  It amazed me that a machine was able to replicate what our bodies do on a day to day basis.  Afterward I felt a little icky, like I had just worked out for about eight hours and drank no water.  I repeated this process every day of the week except for Sundays for five weeks.    On January 7th, 2010, the doctor told me that I wouldn't be going in for dialysis that day, that instead I would be going into the operating room to deliver my baby boy.  I can't tell you exactly what went through my brain that day, because all I remember is reminding God of His promises and believing that my baby boy would be born without any complications and breathing on his own.

I had never seen an operating room until that day.  It was cold, bright, and very blue.  They decided to give me an epidural, instead of putting me out, that way I could be awake for the birth of Asher.  Talk about big needles.  I took one look at that giant needle and just about passed out.  

At 10:02am on January 7th, my little blessed, happy, miracle, Asher was born screaming his lungs out, and as healthy as can be.  I remember hearing those screams, and thinking that everything I went through, every needle stick was worth it, even the giant one, they had just used on me.  Asher was perfect.  He had all his limbs, eyes, a perfect little nose, and a very loud voice box.  The first time I held him, it was like magic.  He knew who I was, and it was such a wonderful moment.

Asher Ryan Morell born at 2 pounds 5 ounces and 14 inches long.  That is my husband's wedding ring around his wrist.

This whole experience was amazing, and I will never forget it for as long as I live.  Asher is now three years old, beautiful, smart, and full of joy!  I am still on dialysis, but I never regret the decision to keep my little miracle. 

So now I start my next chapter in life.  I could like to call it the needle free chapter.  I look forward to sharing this new chapter with you, and I truly hope that if you are going through a similar chapter in your life, I hope that this blog helps you along in it, and lets you know that you are not alone.