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I Gave Birth with COVID
And we both survived
“The baby’s heart rate is tachycardic.” The nurse motioned at the machine that was slowly spitting out a continuous sheet of paper with jagged lines on it. “That’s what we’re the most worried about.”
I gave her a blank look, so she continued.
“That means it’s too high, which can become dangerous.”
If anyone asked me where I planned to be on that overcast Saturday in late April, four days before my baby’s due date, I would have said maybe on a walk. Perhaps at the store. Or at a high school sporting event.
I absolutely wouldn’t have said the emergency room.
It started out as an innocent alternating stuffy or runny nose — but this one didn’t clear up, and after a few days, I developed a dry, persistent cough that took control whenever I spoke.
On Friday afternoon, I came home from work and laid down on the couch, only intending to rest for a minute. A few hours later, I woke up with a fever of 102. Early the next morning, after Curtis (he’s very wonderful) left home to help with a funeral, I rolled over and went back to sleep.
When I woke up in the middle of the afternoon, I couldn’t stop coughing. I called Curtis and choked out the words, “I think you need to come take me to the hospital.” An…
