I Survived a Postpartum Hemorrhage: My Postpartum Hemorrhage Experience
If you’ve experienced a postpartum hemorrhage, you know how terrifying the experience is. I’ve decided to share my own story in the hopes that it might help other Postpartum Hemorrhage survivors know that they are not alone.
Surviving a Pospartum Hemorrhage (PPH) is a traumatic experience.
As an Amazon Associate I earn from qualifying purchases.
If you are also a PPH survivor, I’m sure we’ve experienced many of the same emotions. Having such a close-call with death is inevitably TERRIFYING. Knowing that, without medical intervention, it is very possible you might not be here anymore, unlocks a lot of scary thoughts.
Because Postpartum Hemorrhages are relatively rare (occurring in about 1%-5% of births), I don’t personally know anyone who has gone through what I have. While childbirth can be traumatic in MANY ways, none of my close friends went through the same sort of trauma I did. As much as they can empathize, none can truly relate to my experience and what followed.
So, if you are a PPH survivor, looking for someone who might be able to relate to your experience, I hope my story can help you in some way.
Contents
Many parts of this story might be triggering. I’ve divided my story chronologically, in case you’d like to skip around.
Labor
The morning of, I was induced around 8 am. I asked for an epidural a few hours later, before the pain set in (I don’t regret this! The nurses were able to break my water and conduct the cervical checks without any pain).
Everything progressed pretty normally, though once I was dilated to a 4 or 5 cm, it took a long time to get past that hump. The possibility of a c-section was mentioned, but thankfully I progressed.
Towards the end, when I moved into certain positions, baby’s oxygen would plummet. So, I was told to get on all fours and was given oxygen. I stayed in that position for 30 minutes, and it really took a toll on my muscles (which would later lead to back pain for the next few months).
Delivery
When my cervix was finally 10 cm dilated, it was time to push. However, I recall one of the nurses saying that I was just under 10 cm, but that it was time to push anyway.
I pushed for about an hour and a half, but it honestly went by pretty quickly and pain-free (thank you, epidural!). I pressed the button that releases more of the epidural meds before pushing so that it would help with the pain. It really did–there was basically no pain, and I could still feel the contractions enough to know when to push.
Immediately after birth
My daughter was born at 9:38 pm. After, everything seemed to go okay, although I felt very lightheaded and a bit dizzy. I assumed this was normal. I had just given birth–of course I was going to be exhausted.
At some point, my doctor realized my cervix ripped. Evidently, this is not very common. So, she got to work stitching me up inside and outside (although my perineum didn’t rip much, thankfully).
When it came time to try and nurse my daughter, I was ready. I was dead-set on nursing, and I had been looking forward to this moment.
But, once she latched and began to suckle, the light-headedness immediately intensified. I started seeing spots, and told the nurses that I felt like I was going to faint.
The Hemorrhage
Someone took my daughter and told me to lay down. The nurse checked my blood pressure, and said, “That can’t be right.”
My blood pressure was 53/27.
She took it again, and again it was 53/27.
I heard someone say something about anti-hemorrhage meds, everything became a flurry of nurses and doctors rushing to stop the hemorrhage. Someone pushed on my stomach, and I was told later that two kidney-sized blood clots came out.
They put me back on pitocin to force my uterus to contract, and gave me rectal anti-hemorrhage pills.
As all this was happening, I was on my back, watching everything happen, aware of what was happening, but I couldn’t speak. I think was too weak. I wanted to be able to tell my husband that I was okay, but I couldn’t so much as lift a finger.
This was the exact moment I feared.
So often in the movies, something like this happens. The birth goes just fine, and then all the sudden–the mother flatlines, monitors start beeping, and doctors rush in.
I gave birth in February 2021, still in the age of Covid when hospitals were being extra cautious about allowing visitors. We knew ahead of time that if anything were to go horribly wrong, there would be no one there to comfort my husband and tell him that everything was going to be okay.
All I could think, as I was lying there helpless, was that my husband had to be scared out of his mind, wondering if he was going to have to leave the hospital a single parent. There was no one there to comfort him, no one to tell him everything was going to be okay.
I desperately wanted to tell him that I was okay, but I couldn’t move.
Recovery in Hospital
I was told my blood count was just barely enough to avoid getting a blood transfusion. In this case, I was pretty lucky, as I know that many women who survive a PPH need a blood transfusion.
Recovery in the hospital looked like this: a nurse coming in every couple of hours to push on/massage my stomach (this was probably the most painful part of the entire birth experience), and check my pad to make sure I wasn’t bleeding profusely. In between those fun sessions, a nurse would bring in my daughter for me to nurse.
We stayed in the hospital for one more night. We had our daughter stay in the nursery at night so that I could get more sleep, although I was still awoken every two hours to nurse.
I was completely and utterly exhausted.
Never before in my life have I felt that level of exhaustion. When my mom visited us the day after our daughter was born, she didn’t even recognize me at first.
I felt like all the energy had been drained from my body, and quite frankly–it had.
During the hospital stay, I don’t think I ever got more than two hours of sleep at a time. I had just experienced a VERY close call to death, and lost a ton of blood. The one thing my body needed was sleep and rest, and that just wasn’t happening.
Part of this was all of the medical checks, and the other part was frequent nursing attempts. As I said, I was SET on nursing, so even if it kept me from getting much needed sleep, I was still trying.
Coming Home
The nurses decided I was okay to go home Wednesday afternoon. I had just given birth on Monday night at 9:38 pm.
Looking back, I was in NO shape to leave that hospital. If I could do it again, I would have advocated for myself and insisted on staying in the hospital longer. I absolutely needed it.
Coming home from the hospital with our little bundle of joy felt…scary. I was still feeling faint and exhausted, and wondering how I was going to take care of myself AND another human. Thankfully, my husband was doing a wonderful job of changing diapers and outfits and helping me get comfortable to try and nurse.
Our first night at home was simply exhausting. I have no idea how much sleep I actually got, but it felt like none. We were up every couple of hours trying to nurse, and all of the little noises she made in her bassinet next to me kept me awake, worried about her.
Come 7 or so in the morning, it was time to get up and get ready for our first doctor visit. Having had little to no sleep and still trying to recover from the hemorrhage, I was completely drained.
I felt even more exhausted than I was in the hospital, if that was even possible.
First Doctor Visit
On the way to the first doctor visit, following our first night at home, I cried the entire car ride. The tears just kept coming, and I didn’t know why. I guessed it was pure exhaustion, lack of sleep, and being completely overwhelmed.
I felt like a complete wreck, not having showered or done anything to make myself presentable. I was wearing leggings and a nursing top, both of which fit poorly and looked so weird on my new body.
Our first visit was with the lactation specialist housed in our pediatrician’s office. The lactation specialist was SO sweet and so patient, and could tell with one look that our daughter was very jaundiced.
Our daughter’s bilirubin levels were fine at the hospital, but evidently took a steep turn since coming home.
Jaundice is common among breastfed babies, but, in the words of the lactation specialist, our daughter looked like a little pumpkin baby.
It’s not fully known what causes Jaundice in newborns, but in my case, it was likely that she wasn’t getting enough milk, because I wasn’t producing enough. The fix was to feed her as much as possible to flush the bilirubin out of the system, and also to put her on the bili bed for light therapy.
It was clear that at this point, I wasn’t producing enough milk, and we needed to supplement with formula to help flush the bilirubin out.
Nursing
So, the lactation specialists came up with a system to get my milk going and also get baby enough food in her system: I was to nurse 15-20 minutes on each breast (topless for skin-to-skin time to encourage milk production), then pump as much as I could while someone feeds baby a bottle. This cycle repeats every two hours. While baby was not being fed, she was to be put on her bilibed.
Oh boy.
As simple as this sounds, it was anything but simple.
First off, a baby who is very jaundiced is VERY sleepy. So, getting her wake enough to latch, and then stay awake after she began nursing, was nearly impossible.
Also, after each pumping session, all the pump parts needed to be cleaned. So, this is what the day looked like, on repeat: I strip down for skin-to-skin time and nurse baby on each side for 15-20 minutes each, then someone takes her and feeds her a bottle while I pump. After I pump, I get dressed and clean the pump parts. By the time the pump is clean, it’s time to nurse again.
As you can imagine, this left little time for rest.
Another huge hurdle: Our daughter would not take to the bili bed. She needed to be swaddled to be content, and baby has to lie naked (except the diaper) on the bed. So, we had to go back to the doctor the next day and get a bili swaddle, which was actually a lot more work.
(How the swaddle works: You undress baby and lay them on their back on the flat surface emitting lights. Then, you dress baby OVER the flat surface, and swaddle over the clothing. The whole time, this flat surface baby is swaddled on must be connected to a cord plugged into the wall)
Each time I nursed, I needed to unswaddle baby from the biliblanket so we could have skin-to-skin time to encourage milk production, and immediately after, she needed a diaper change and to be swaddled back up into her little contraption.
We did this routine for 10 days.
The whole time, I kept anticipating my milk coming in and feeling engorged. I kept expecting to wake up, shirt soaked, boobs in pain from being so swollen with milk. That day never came.
On day 10 of only pumping about an oz of breastmilk a day, with my supply decreasing instead of increasing, I finally gave up.
What I wish I knew about nursing after surviving a PPH
I was SET on nursing. I read all the books, joined breastfeeding support groups on Facebook, researched all kinds of troubleshooting, bought the right equipment–-I was PREPARED.
In reality, I couldn’t have prepared myself for this situation.
As it turns out, if you survive a PPH, there’s a pretty good chance you won’t be able to breastfeed.
This doesn’t apply to everyone, but it is very common. After hemorrhaging, the body needs to put energy into recovery before it can focus on milk production.
Sheehan Syndrome
There is even a condition called Sheehan Syndrome, which makes it physically impossible to lactate. Sheehan Syndrome occurs when the pituitary gland, which is responsible for lactation, is damaged during the hemorrhage process due to lack of blood flow.
Oh, how I wish I knew that this was a possible symptom of the PPH. If I knew at the time that there was a scientific reason I wasn’t able to produce milk, I would have given myself grace much sooner.
As many mommas know, it is devastating to give up nursing when you have your heart set on it.
Postpartum Depression
Another common side effect of a PPH: Postpartum Depression. It’s pretty easy to see why, given the way you feel, physically and emotionally, after recovering from a PPH.
I felt like I wasn’t able to enjoy my time as a new mom. I wasn’t able to truly soak up those newborn snuggles like I should have been, because I was so completely overwhelmed and exhausted from the PPH, and the domino effect of everything that followed.
I wish I knew the side effects of a PPH before I experienced them, or even as I experienced them. I didn’t realize until much later that my experience following the hemorrhage was so common for PPH survivors, and even to be expected.
Instead, I felt like I just wasn’t emotionally up for the task. Like I wasn’t strong like other new moms, and I didn’t understand why.
Looking back, almost two and a half years later, I understand now that my body was still recovering from a major traumatic event.
My body was still trying to recover all the blood lost, my muscles needed time to heal, I needed to accept the fact that nursing was beyond my control, and I didn’t quite have the time or space to process so many emotions.
To this day, it still chokes me up to think about how close I was, even if just for a few moments, to not leaving that hospital. How close my daughter and husband came to living a life without me in it.
Why did I hemorrhage?
The short answer is, we don’t know exactly. But, we know a bit of what happened, and I have some guesses about the rest.
First, my cervix ripped during delivery, which is uncommon. I suspect I might have been told to push a bit too soon, since I recall one nurse saying I was just under 10 cm dilated.
Also, and this is a very common reason for PPH, my uterus failed to contract immediately following birth (uterine atony), so blood began to clot internally. A combination of those two occurrences seemed to be the perfect storm for a hemorrhage.
Another possible factor is that I’ve always struggled with anemia. I took iron pills during the end of my pregnancy, but suspect that my iron levels were probably still too low, since anemia is a risk factor of PPH.
Conclusion
If you are a Postpartum Hemorrhage survivor, please know that you are not alone. I know it can feel like way. Something that has helped me recently is joining a couple of Facebook groups for PPH survivors. If you are one yourself, I urge you to seek out these communities as well. When recovering from something so traumatic, it can really help to talk to others who have gone through a similar experience.
If you’re comfortable, please feel free to tell your own PPH story in the comments below.
XOXO
