Were into the second hour of the new year now. The little ones are sleeping restlessly in the next room. Jen is in the hospital, and has been since Christmas morning. I really started to worry on Christmas eve, when she drifted off into delerium while wrapping presents. At this point, she could barely talk because of her sore throat, and was starting to write strange things on the little Christmas labels before sticking them on presents. She insisted that she was all right as I helped her into our bed. She fell asleep immediately, and I kept an eye on her as her brother Jason and I finished wrapping and distributing presents as best we could.

The kids had a great time unwrapping their gifts in the morning. Jen was throwing up again, despite having nothing in her stomach. I took her to the emergency room, leaving the kids in the care of Jason and Cindy, Jen's mother (both of whom have been absolutely invaluable over the last few days). Once there, we were put in a room and seen relatively quickly. They nurses took some blood and ran some tests. We waited. The next thing we knew, a worried looking young doctor was telling us that Jen's platelet count was low and that they might have to induce labor. We were stunned. The baby isn't due to be born until April 15th. Here we were on Christmas day suddenly facing the prospect of forcing our girl out of the womb into a world that she wouldn't be prepared for for another three and a half months. They told us that they suspected Jen had a condition called HELLP syndrome, which is a form of pre eclamcia (sp?). Essentially, Jen's body was thought to be reacting against the pregnancy in a way that would lead to continued depletion of platelets and red blood cells (caused by constriction of her blood vessels), liver damage (possibly leading to rupture, we found out later), kidney damage, elevated blood pressure, and more. A doctor explained to us what to expect in an infant born this prematurely, and although she did her best to stress the positive side, a grim picture was painted. Babies born at 24 weeks have paper thin skulls, and are very susceptible to cranial bleeding. This bleeding can lead to a rather daunting number of physical difficulties, such as cerebal palsy, blindness, deafness, to mention a few
We ended up in another room, and they actually started the induction. Jen started having regular contractions, which she couldn't feel because of the muscle relaxants she was on. I called Veronika, our midwife, and she showed up about a half an hour later. The wait began. I called Jason and asked if he could bring a camera, which he did at about one in the morning. As horrible as things were, we still wanted to get pictures of the birth. The contractions continued. I fell asleep on the floor under some blankets. Veronika fell asleep in a chair. Nurses continued to extract blood at regular intervals to get new readings.
At some point, Jen summed it up very poignantly. Referring to our baby, she said, "she's so little. So perfect. So oblivious." Our baby, Harper, was on the verge of being introduced to an uncertain fate. She would undoubtedly have special needs. She would spend the first several months (at least) of her life in an incubator, assuming she survived at all. It felt like we were betraying her. It sounded like we had no choice. The only way to cure HELLP is to induce labor. Once the baby is born, the problem is solved. If the syndrome goes unchecked, it will kill the mother. A nurse told us that the only woman who had ever died in childbirth at this hospital had had HELLP. Her liver had ruptured.
Then the news came that subsequent blood tests showed platelet counts rising, and liver function improving slightly. This puzzled the doctors. HELLP doesn't get better without delivery. Doctors started conferring with each other. Second opinions were sought. I believe there may have been some arguments. Finally, a doctor, like an angel of mercy, came into the room and informed us that they were stopping the induction. We both wept with relief.
Over the following days, as Jen continued to improve, Cindy organized work shifts so that the other kids would be watched. She stayed overnight so I could stay with Jen, and so I could work. The kids are holding up surprisingly well, and I am learning first hand what Jen's day to day life is like (getting the kids to bed, comforting them in the night, and getting them up in the morning... oops, I mean them getting me up in the morning). I don't normally do this because of my strange work schedule. Cindy has been sleeping on the couch on the nights that I work, and Jason and Jen's half-sister Ashley have been helping out with morning duties, as has Karen. Karen, her husband Chris, and their daughters were here on friday (?) and then again on (minus Chris) monday.
It now looks like all of this mess has been caused by a reaction to the over the counter pain medication Aleve. They're keeping her in the hospital until everything is completely back to normal. Currently all of the counts are good, but she has a headache and a queasy stomach. We hope she comes home soon.

More to follow...