I've thought long and hard about my healthcare story. When I saw MinistryofTruth's call to action, I knew it was time to talk. It took me a long time to not blame myself for my son's death. You see, when you lose a child, it always comes back to you . . . the parent. You tear apart what YOU should've done, could've done. You pick apart each second, each action, wondering if you had done something different, if your child would still be here?
I'm a graduate student, I entered grad school when my daughter was one. I was told by the faculty, that I should be happy and thankful to even have health insurance at all. Graduate students had none only a few years ago.
In my third year of graduate school, about a year after my Master's, I started planning for my second child. My daughter had turned three, and I wanted her to have a sibling close in age. Obviously there is no obstetric care at the University, all of my prenatal care would be 'out of network' which means meeting a high deductible and only 80% coverage after that. It seemed doable at the time. I planned to hopefully get pregnant by Spring of 2007, and have a child before the end of the year. The tax deduction would help to pay off hospital bills. Make no mistake, my son was meticulously planned. I would have to balance a pregnancy, a three year old, comprehensive exams, and teaching. But for a baby? I would've done anything!
What I didn't plan for were my numerous infections, polyhydramnios, preterm labor or 8 weeks of bed rest. By the Fall of 2007, I was bed ridden, and deeply depressed. There was a light at the end of the tunnel though, my son was due December 17th. If he could just stay put for a little longer, he would be here, healthy, and full term. I was still so excited. I was waiting for my savior. I was waiting for all of that hard work and sacrifice to pay off.
I was admitted to the hospital approximately three times before Thanksgiving. Twice out of concerns for preterm labor, once because I couldn't feel my son moving. Each time, the decision to go to the hospital was gruelling. Each time, I waited and waited to call. Each time I banked on the odds that babies just don't die for no reason. I believed that (chances are) everything was fine. You see, I couldn't afford the hospital bills. I couldn't afford to go in there for nothing. I couldn't afford peace of mind. Peace of mind is not priceless. Like many Americans I rationed my healthcare myself.
The week of Thanksgiving, I was 37 weeks gestation. I was home free. I was so happy. I had made it. I went to the doctor on Tuesday, my son's heartbeat was 153, I'll never forget it. That was the last time I ever heard it.
It wasn't until that thursday, Thanksgiving night that I started to worry that my son hadn't moved for awhile. I had a small thanksgiving at my house, my bed rest was over a week prior and I'd been busy flying around the house, cleaning my fridge, doing laundry. Being up was so liberating. I was so excited. So thankful.
That evening I mentioned to my husband that it had been awhile since I felt him move. I had had a scare a couple weeks before, went to the hospital crying, and everything was okay. I felt like such a fool then. I was going to go to bed and wait until the morning, perhaps I was in labor and he was quieting down? Movements are supposed to slow. I woke up that Friday to find that for the first time in months, I had slept through the night.
The rest is a nightmare I've relived 1,000 in the last 21 months. My son had died, if only I had gone in Thanksgiving night. I did what many people do each day, I weighed the risk of their being something wrong with the money in the bank. I didn't know then what I know now, that 30,000 babies are stillborn each year, and for over 50% of those, nobody knows why. I thought that babies just dont die for no reason. I was wrong.
Myles Ray was born sleeping on November 24th, 2007, at 3pm. He was 6lbs. 7oz. and 19 and 1/2 inches long. He was born naturally, I got my water birth but not my baby. Afterwards, a retained placenta risked my own life, I almost bled to death, I was told I almost lost my uterus. Afterward we had numerous hospital bills without that well planned tax deduction I had counted on to help. Funeral costs for babies are charity here, though markers are not. It's hard to imagine feeling thankful for a free funeral, but I was.
I was in shock for months. People view the death of a child as the event, and recovery as linear. I can tell you the hardest part about my son's death was not giving birth to him and burying him. The most difficult part was living each and everyday without him. The levy broke in August of 2008 when I was admitted to the hospital for the first time for manic depression. I was admitted again in December of 2008.
You see, in my mind, I had killed my baby. It was my body, and while my son was dying, I was worrying about mounting hospital bills. My son was dying, and I didn't even know, his own mother didn't even know. So I didn't think I was much of a mother. If a successful pregnancy ends in a live birth, then I had failed.
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Things got worse before they got better. My husband began numbing his emotional pain with pain killers he received for his back. He was hospitalized twice as well. Together we had over $10,000 in medical bills. Then he lost his job. We are currently separated planning to get divorced and going through a bankruptcy. I have no choice but to foreclose on this house. I went from having a credit score >750 for most of my adult life to my current 489, in about a year.
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Things have gotten better, I just got a very good job and I will have my PhD in May 2010. I can say clearly now that I did not cause my son's death. If there is one thing I could've done to save his life, I would've done it. I just didn't know. In hindsight, postponing going to the hospital has haunted me, but so many things have (even cleaning out my fridge for thanksgiving haunts me). I don't blame my crappy grad. student healthcare (Aetna) for my son's death. It does make me very very angry, however, to know that if it weren't for the hidden costs of medical care, and the fear of financial ruin, I may not have turned on myself as I did. For profit healthcare forces us to gamble with our lives, even the lives of our children. I was so ashamed for taking that gamble. Now I'm angry at them for making me take it.