“But I’m only thirty-six weeks. I can’t have him yet. His dad isn’t even here. He’s in Maine for the night. This isn’t supposed to happen, this is—”
“Don’t worry. Lots of babies are born in this hospital at thirty-six weeks. In fact, I helped deliver one yesterday.”
She stared at me, her chest heaving. “Emily ... something isn’t right.”
“What’s making you feel that way?”
“I . . . don’t know. It’s . . . so hard to breathe.”
“Let’s get you sitting and connected to some oxygen and out of these wet clothes—all of that will make you feel better.” My hand stilled, and I gave her the gentlest push to help lead her toward the bed. “Once I have you settled, I’m going to go check on the status of your doctor.” When she didn’t move, I whispered, “Sarah, everything is going to be all right. Remember, I’m not leaving you.”
We locked eyes for several seconds. It was as if she was weighing my words, and eventually she allowed me to bring her to the bed, propping herself on the edge. I left her there for just a moment while I fetched a gown from the closet. But as I was approaching to help her undress, she began to rock.
“No.Nooo.This isn’t right. I’m so cold. I’m covered in chills. I shouldn’t have the chills. I shouldn’t feel like I can’t breathe.” She cupped her stomach.
I reached for the oxygen tube and nasal cannula that were housed behind the bed, flipped the switch to turn it on, and fitted it inside her nose. “This is going to make you feel better. Take several deep breaths for me.” I bent down to the floor, taking the slides off her feet. “Remember, deep breaths. In and out. Just focus on your breathing.”
She held her chest as I tried to help her out of the zip-up, her arms not moving to let me take it off. “There’s heaviness.”
“Do you mean a heaviness that feels like anxiety?”
“I’m not an anxious person. I’ve never felt anything like this before.” Her head dropped, and she tapped the same spot on her chest. “Like a pile of lead is sitting right here, and it keeps getting heavier.”
I left her sweatshirt alone and went and put her shoes in the closet. “You’ve never had a baby before. With that comes loads and loads of anxiety. Your body is experiencing something completely new and unknown.” I stood in front of her, and as I went to reach for her sweatshirt again, she grabbed my hand.
“Emily, I need you to listen to me.”
I nodded. “Okay.”
She shook my hand, like she was trying to get my attention, even though she was all I was focused on. “I need you to get a piece of paper and a pen. Don’t think I’m crazy. I need this. I need you to do this.”
With my other hand, I pulled out a pad and a pen from my pocket. “I keep these in here at all times.”
“I need you to write something down for me.” Her hand moved from her chest to the oxygen in her nose, pushing the tubes higher up.
I wiggled my fingers out of her grip and held the pen to the pad. “Tell me what you want me to write.”
“I love you. I will always love you. You’re the greatest thing that’s ever happened to your dad and me. I’ll never be far, I’ll be watching. I’ll ...”
As her voice drifted off, I glanced up from the blue ink, and Sarah’s eyes were closed. Her skin was turning pale. Her lips were moving, but nothing was coming out of them.
“Sarah?” I slid the pad and pen into my pocket and put my hands on her shoulders, and when that got no reaction, nor did shaking her, I went to check her pulse. “Sarah?” The tips of my fingers had barely landed on her neck when she fell back against the bed.
“Fuck!Nooo!” I sprinted to the doorway of the room, looking out onto the hallway as I screamed, “Code blue!” I ran back to her side, lifting her feet from the floor and turning her legs so I could lay her on the bed.
I was still in the process of getting her fully on the mattress when the emergency response team came in. The code I had screamed, which had also sounded an alarm across the unit, told the medical staff my patient was in cardiac arrest. While the doctor and other nurses surrounded her, what they needed to hear was everything I knew about Sarah Lucas.
“Twenty-eight years old, thirty-six weeks pregnant. Water broke about four to five minutes ago,” I told them, my heart beating so fast, I was sure I sounded breathless. “Patient was complaining of shortness of breath, so I hooked her up to oxygen. She also said there was a heaviness in her chest. BP was borderline high during her whole pregnancy and was taken in the ED and registered low, so they sent her up here.”
Sarah’s skin was turning even whiter, her lips now blue.
Arms were moving faster than I could see, and directions were being ordered. I stayed still until I heard, “Emily, start chest compressions while we take her to the OR.”
My schooling taught me what was happening inside Sarah’s body, but in my two years of nursing, I’d never witnessed it before.
If I were to guess, many of the nurses in this unit hadn’t ever seen an amniotic fluid embolism either, a rare and extremely dangerous occurrence when either amniotic fluid, cells, or something else entered the mother’s bloodstream.
It would be a miracle if we could save her.
