Our worst case scenario is unfolding over the next few hours.
The possibilities we were presented were all pretty bad, this morning. We could either wait for or induce labor, and we could decide whether or not to attempt an interval delivery and try to hang onto B and C until they were viable. Nothing about the interval delivery could be guaranteed: whether labor could be stopped in time after A’s delivery; whether the other two could avoid infection afterward; how long they might continue to gestate; their long term health outcome. Meanwhile the chances of developing an infection climbed the longer A stayed inside, with the cord providing direct access for any bacteria into the uterus. And infection necessarily means the loss of all three babies. The decision wasn’t exactly straightforward. We were left alone with that burden for a while and we were having trouble getting anywhere, which for the time meant we were waiting for labor.
A couple of hours passed, feeling physically okay, with normal vitals and no contractions. The MFM attending and resident came back to see what we wanted to do, and we said we were holding off on the decision for now. Which was fine with them. Then the attending began to palpate my abdomen, and there was discomfort at the top of the uterus.
That is a sign of chorioamnionitis, the uterine infection we’ve been watching for. The doctor’s recommendation was more or less immediate delivery, for the sake of my health and the safety of my reproductive organs for future children.
It’s the hardest thing in the world seeing my husband cry. A week ago, we were buying onesies and the biggest decision we were facing was middle names.
It would be so much easier knowing this was the right thing if the signs were clearer. If I had a fever, if my white blood cells were high, if there was excruciating pain instead of this dull sense of tautness. But none of those are true.