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JACOB AND ZACHARY — USA
Born February 2005 (Jacob)and May 29, 2008 (Zachary) Early-onset Mother's GBS Status: Tested negative Gestational Age: 37 weeks (Jacob) and 36 weeks (Zachary) (c-section) Age Harmed: minutes old, both times |
I was 2 months pregnant with Jacob when my then husband left. He moved from Utah to Green Bay, Wisconsin. I continued my pregnancy with the support of my family, as well as with my then 2 year old daughter, Madilynn. The pregnancy went great, I was moving on in my life, and I felt very optimistic. I had my GBS screening at the end of December and found out it was NEGATIVE at my next exam. Two weeks later, I went into labor.
The labor was quick and, before I knew it, I was pushing out my little boy. They laid him on me and I was instantly aware of his chest caving in with each breath. The nurses around me hadn't noticed yet, but I asked them to check him out right away. There seemed to be some concern, but nothing too alarming. They took him to the nursery to make sure everything was okay. The on-call pediatrician, Dr. Johnson (who happened to be one of the doctors at my children's pediatrician's office) came in to see me after a little bit. He explained that they were concerned about his heart--that perhaps a valve that typically shuts immediately following birth hadn't shut yet. They were going to keep an eye on him and I should get some sleep. It was a struggle. I was all alone, I wanted my baby, and I had no significant other for support. I managed to get a small amount of sleep, but woke up around 4 AM. I felt an overwhelming need to see my baby. I walked down to the nursery and found Dr. Johnson listening to Jacob's heart. He hadn't been called back in, but had felt the need to come check on him. He told me that things were still concerning him and he recommended that we transfer him to Primary Children's Medical Center for further tests. I agreed with a sinking heart.
Before I knew it, a team came in to prepare him for transfer. They were going to take him via ambulance for the 30 minute drive. As they were preparing him, something seemed to change in the room. I was still standing there, watching, and I saw the mood change in everyone. People were rushing everywhere, calling out things I didn't understand. I stood there, tears streaming down my cheeks, scared and unsure of what was going on. I grabbed a nearby phone and dialed my parents' number. My dad answered. "Dad, something is wrong. Can you please come down here?" He instantly agreed. After the call, Dr. Johnson walked over to talk to me. He acknowledged that what I was seeing was probably very scary. He said that while they prepared him to be transferred, his vitals dropped and he stopped breathing. They were continuing to stablize him so he could be transported. My dad arrived and watched with me as every time they wheeled my son to the elevator, he would crash again. After the final time, they decided to call for the Lifeflight helicopter. The next little bit was a blur. I remember them telling me to say goodbye to my little guy, who was now in a incubator on wheels, with lines and patches all over him. I touched his hand and told him I would see him soon.
That morning was desolate. The only way I could describe it. I sat on my hospital bed until finally, at around 9:00 am, my OB came in. He said that it was a little early to let me go, but he doubted I would have any desire to stay so he was signing my release. I thanked him, called dad again, and left 20 minutes later, only 11 hours after giving birth. We went straight to the children's hospital where I spent hours upon hours learning, watching, pumping, hoping and praying. The consensus was infection, but, until the cultures grew, no one knew what type. He had sepsis and pneumonia. His tiny little body was puffed up like a 3 month old who had been well fed. If you touched his belly, your fingerprint would stay for several minutes. His chest shook rapidly with the respirator. Everyone kept asking me, "Did you get tested for GBS?" Whenever I said, "Yes," and that it was negative, they seemed surprised.
Finally I received my answer. His primary neonatologist consulted me after 3 days and said that it was indeed group B strep. Apparently false negatives can occur, or there can be faulty lab handling. Which one it was, I will never know. The little milestones started to happen. Less medication for blood pressure, less plasma needed, and, finally, the big one. The respirator was removed. My little guy was breathing on his own. Four days after that and 2 weeks total in the NICU, he was sent home.
I never knew until after, when I researched what we went through, how deadly GBS was. How very different the outcome could have been. I knew for a fact that if I had any other children in my lifetime, I would demand antibiotics during my labor, whether I tested negative or positive.
Much to my surprise, this wasn't the only time this would happen to me. In fact, the next time, it was worse.
I met my current husband Mike, two years ago. We hit it off right away and felt an instant connection. During the first couple of times we were intimate, I was on antibiotics for a tooth infection, while also being on the birth control pill. Mike and I did great for about 2 months until we had a fight. He left, angry, and I felt bitter and hopeless. I decided not to even attempt to make amends. I was tired of the dating roller coaster. Two weeks later, right before Thanksgiving, I was getting fed up with feeling tired and nauseous. I knew I couldn't be pregnant, but decided to buy a test just to get the nagging thought out of my head. I did my business on the little stick and, moments later, I was in shock. That little plus sign was as dark as dark could be. I panicked. I was now a single mom with 2 kids and one on the way. I had received my parents' support for too long and I didn't want them to have to financially help me yet again. I felt like a burden to them, and I hated that they couldn't enjoy their older years. I struggled, thinking I was going to have to do something I never would have considered before: abortion. Late that night, I sent a text to Mike. I asked him how he was. He responded and asked how I was. The next text I sent just said "I'm pregnant." It was not the most mature way to handle it, but I hate confrontation. He replied with something like, "What? How?" I said that I figured it had something to do with the antibiotics and then asked how he felt about abortions. Next thing I knew, my phone was ringing.
The conversation I had with Mike was much different than I expected. He looked at this as a sign. We should try to make it work for the sake of the baby, and the rest of our family. I was shocked. He wanted this? I had never imagined it to go like this! We talked and talked, and, ironically, the fight we had that split us up was a complete misunderstanding. He thought that I was upset about something that I absolutely wasn't upset about. The gears started turning in my head....could we make this work? What if it didn't? I felt like I only had a very small amount of time to decide. How can I figure all of this out in a matter of weeks? I went to the doctor and found out that I was already 10 weeks along. But during those 2 weeks that I agonized and wrestled with the choice, I was treated like gold. Mike did everything for me that I had wished for the first two times I had been pregnant. He pampered me, loved me, took care of things. I started to feel extremely optimistic. Maybe this WAS meant to be. Mike proposed on Christmas Eve and I accepted. I was on cloud nine, finally getting everything I had dreamed of. We moved into a house together in February and started to build our lives.
The pregnancy was going well. I had my ultrasound and discovered we were having a boy. I was thrilled to be able to give Mike a son. He had a son in his first marriage, and tragically he choked at 10 months old and passed away. The signs all kept pointing in the direction of fate. Towards my 30th week, I had another ultrasound. My OB was concerned that I might have placenta previa. He wanted me to follow up a few weeks later. I had that ultrasound and he still couldn't tell exactly how low the placenta was. He had us go to Intermountain Medical Center to meet with a specialist and to have a more in depth ultrasound. The news wasn't good. Not only was it a placenta previa, but it was also a vasa previa where the blood vessels supporting the baby went through the placenta as well. If I went into labor, both myself and the baby would bleed to death within 5 minutes. Also, the baby was starting to appear growth-restricted. I had been working as a bank teller up to this point (35 weeks) and I was immediately put on bedrest. The call I received that evening from my OB was a shocker. We would be having a C-section later that week. I was on complete bedrest until then. I was instantly panicked. My parents were on vacation; before they left, everything seemed fine, so they went. I wasn't prepared yet! But the baby had to be delivered.
On May 29th, 2008, Mike and I arrived at Alta View Hospital early in the morning. We went through all of the steps to be registered and admitted. I had the support of my grandma, sister-in-law, and my mother and father-in-law were taking care of the other kids. I was scared, but delivering 4 weeks early wasn't too worrisome and I was excited to meet my boy. I had normal vaginal deliveries for my other two, so I was scared about the C-section, but everything was going smoothly. With Mike by my side, the procedure went quick, and before we knew it, we heard our tiny little boy's cries. He was so strong! I remember being surprised at how loud the cries were, and he looked mad to be out! Zachary Michael was born and was 4 lbs, 11 oz. They took him away while they finished with me. I was wheeled to the recovery room before I knew there was a problem. Mike and my grandma were in the nursery, watching Zachary while he had all of the standard things done to him. While they watched, he started to turn blue. The nurses all crowded in and Mike came to me. Fortunately the pediatrician who happened to be there on call was my other childrens' pediatrician who I would trust with any of their lives. I knew something was wrong when I saw Mike's face.
The recovery nurse said that Zachary was having trouble breathing and they didn't know what was wrong, but were working on him. Mike and I clutched each others' hands and prayed, something we don't do often. It seemed like hours with no update and my recovery nurse offered to call over to the nursery for an update. When she hung up the phone, she spoke words I will never forget, "I don't know what happened, but they are currently performing chest compressions." At first I thought she was going to say he was dead with the way she started the sentence. I'm sure all of the blood drained from my face. Mike was a mess, considering he had gone through this before, except he was the one giving his son chest compressions while he waited for an ambulance. The outcome there was all he could think of. I don't know how much time had passed when Dr. Cox, the pediatrician, came into the recovery room.
He was grim as he informed us that Zachary surprised them all by rapidly declining after his birth. He stopped breathing, and then his heart stopped. They did CPR for 20 minutes before they got him back, and they were arranging for his transfer to Primary Children's hospital. The helicopter would be there soon and they would be wheeling him past my room before taking him to the Lifeflight chopper. I was brought to my room and waited while seeing the scared looks of my relatives. When Zachary was brought by my room, I can't even describe how I felt. He was in an incubator with wires and tubes coming out of limb. He was intubated and had tape holding the tube to his face. He looked just like Jacob had looked 3 years prior. I touched his little body, and then wanted them to take him away so they could get him to the children's hospital. When he was wheeled away, I felt empty.
Dr. Cox walked into the room after Zachary left. He told us that he would be keeping in touch with the hospital and would be visiting there as well. He didn't know what was wrong other than he was pretty convinced of an infection. My sister-in-law spoke up and told him that my parents were on vacation and asked if she should call them and ask them to return. They had already been calling for an update, and I had been holding them off until I knew what to tell them. Dr. Cox looked very grim and said that yes, they needed to come home. That was almost the scariest part of all. It was as if he put into words that there was a good chance my little boy wouldn't make it.
Somehow I made it through the rest of that day. Poor Mike didn't know what to do. He had been up to Primary's, and back to me (about a 30 minute drive) and was torn trying to figure out who he should stay with. He spent the night by my side and the next morning the hospital gave me a pass to leave for a few hours so I could see my baby. I was wheeled to the car and experienced a very painful drive. I didn't care. By the time we reached the NICU and scrubbed in, I was beyond anxious to see my baby. When Mike wheeled me to his bed, I was instantly brought back to a very similar image. Just like with Jacob, he was hooked up to probably a dozen machines and drips. He was swollen from water retention. After talking to the doctors there, they still didn't know what had happened, but hoped that cultures taken would indicate the problem. It was another waiting game.
The next two weeks can be summed up pretty easily. I was released from the hospital the next day and juggled home life and time at the hospital. The cultures never grew anything, but he was responding to the broad spectrum antibiotics. Although it is rare to pass infections in a C-section, everything was so similar to my previous birth, they called it GBS. We had the roller coaster ride of waiting for medications to be dropped off, one by one. We waited anxiously until the day finally came to remove the breathing tube. I spent numerous hours in the pumping room trying to store up milk for him. Finally the day came that we could hold our little baby. It was an amazing experience. He was so tiny. I couldn't imagine taking something that small home, but on his 2 week birthday, it was time. With tears of joy and gratitude for the doctors and nurses at Primary's, we bundled up our baby, loaded him into the car seat, and took him home.
Zachary has been an amazing baby. I believe he was a gift to us and I will never take it for granted. He has had 2 MRIs and the doctors are amazed that he experienced no brain damage during the 20 minutes of CPR. He is so full of spunk and personality, and he seems to look at each day as a gift as well. I tell people that he's just so happy to be here that he can't complain. He has reached all of his milestones early and shows every sign of being just as smart as his dad. I thank God every day for the miracle he brought us and am forever thankful to have him in our lives.
Since then, I have become aware of the lack of attention GBS is given. It doesn't seem to be taken as seriously as it should, and I would love to see more awareness come about. If there is anything I can do to help this cause, I am more than happy to do so.
Thanks for reading my story. If it can make a difference to anyone planning to become pregnant or who is already pregnant, then I can say it had a purpose.
— Emily Boggess, UT, USA
Emily tells their story to anyone expecting or planning a family.
The labor was quick and, before I knew it, I was pushing out my little boy. They laid him on me and I was instantly aware of his chest caving in with each breath. The nurses around me hadn't noticed yet, but I asked them to check him out right away. There seemed to be some concern, but nothing too alarming. They took him to the nursery to make sure everything was okay. The on-call pediatrician, Dr. Johnson (who happened to be one of the doctors at my children's pediatrician's office) came in to see me after a little bit. He explained that they were concerned about his heart--that perhaps a valve that typically shuts immediately following birth hadn't shut yet. They were going to keep an eye on him and I should get some sleep. It was a struggle. I was all alone, I wanted my baby, and I had no significant other for support. I managed to get a small amount of sleep, but woke up around 4 AM. I felt an overwhelming need to see my baby. I walked down to the nursery and found Dr. Johnson listening to Jacob's heart. He hadn't been called back in, but had felt the need to come check on him. He told me that things were still concerning him and he recommended that we transfer him to Primary Children's Medical Center for further tests. I agreed with a sinking heart.
Before I knew it, a team came in to prepare him for transfer. They were going to take him via ambulance for the 30 minute drive. As they were preparing him, something seemed to change in the room. I was still standing there, watching, and I saw the mood change in everyone. People were rushing everywhere, calling out things I didn't understand. I stood there, tears streaming down my cheeks, scared and unsure of what was going on. I grabbed a nearby phone and dialed my parents' number. My dad answered. "Dad, something is wrong. Can you please come down here?" He instantly agreed. After the call, Dr. Johnson walked over to talk to me. He acknowledged that what I was seeing was probably very scary. He said that while they prepared him to be transferred, his vitals dropped and he stopped breathing. They were continuing to stablize him so he could be transported. My dad arrived and watched with me as every time they wheeled my son to the elevator, he would crash again. After the final time, they decided to call for the Lifeflight helicopter. The next little bit was a blur. I remember them telling me to say goodbye to my little guy, who was now in a incubator on wheels, with lines and patches all over him. I touched his hand and told him I would see him soon.
That morning was desolate. The only way I could describe it. I sat on my hospital bed until finally, at around 9:00 am, my OB came in. He said that it was a little early to let me go, but he doubted I would have any desire to stay so he was signing my release. I thanked him, called dad again, and left 20 minutes later, only 11 hours after giving birth. We went straight to the children's hospital where I spent hours upon hours learning, watching, pumping, hoping and praying. The consensus was infection, but, until the cultures grew, no one knew what type. He had sepsis and pneumonia. His tiny little body was puffed up like a 3 month old who had been well fed. If you touched his belly, your fingerprint would stay for several minutes. His chest shook rapidly with the respirator. Everyone kept asking me, "Did you get tested for GBS?" Whenever I said, "Yes," and that it was negative, they seemed surprised.
Finally I received my answer. His primary neonatologist consulted me after 3 days and said that it was indeed group B strep. Apparently false negatives can occur, or there can be faulty lab handling. Which one it was, I will never know. The little milestones started to happen. Less medication for blood pressure, less plasma needed, and, finally, the big one. The respirator was removed. My little guy was breathing on his own. Four days after that and 2 weeks total in the NICU, he was sent home.
I never knew until after, when I researched what we went through, how deadly GBS was. How very different the outcome could have been. I knew for a fact that if I had any other children in my lifetime, I would demand antibiotics during my labor, whether I tested negative or positive.
Much to my surprise, this wasn't the only time this would happen to me. In fact, the next time, it was worse.
I met my current husband Mike, two years ago. We hit it off right away and felt an instant connection. During the first couple of times we were intimate, I was on antibiotics for a tooth infection, while also being on the birth control pill. Mike and I did great for about 2 months until we had a fight. He left, angry, and I felt bitter and hopeless. I decided not to even attempt to make amends. I was tired of the dating roller coaster. Two weeks later, right before Thanksgiving, I was getting fed up with feeling tired and nauseous. I knew I couldn't be pregnant, but decided to buy a test just to get the nagging thought out of my head. I did my business on the little stick and, moments later, I was in shock. That little plus sign was as dark as dark could be. I panicked. I was now a single mom with 2 kids and one on the way. I had received my parents' support for too long and I didn't want them to have to financially help me yet again. I felt like a burden to them, and I hated that they couldn't enjoy their older years. I struggled, thinking I was going to have to do something I never would have considered before: abortion. Late that night, I sent a text to Mike. I asked him how he was. He responded and asked how I was. The next text I sent just said "I'm pregnant." It was not the most mature way to handle it, but I hate confrontation. He replied with something like, "What? How?" I said that I figured it had something to do with the antibiotics and then asked how he felt about abortions. Next thing I knew, my phone was ringing.
The conversation I had with Mike was much different than I expected. He looked at this as a sign. We should try to make it work for the sake of the baby, and the rest of our family. I was shocked. He wanted this? I had never imagined it to go like this! We talked and talked, and, ironically, the fight we had that split us up was a complete misunderstanding. He thought that I was upset about something that I absolutely wasn't upset about. The gears started turning in my head....could we make this work? What if it didn't? I felt like I only had a very small amount of time to decide. How can I figure all of this out in a matter of weeks? I went to the doctor and found out that I was already 10 weeks along. But during those 2 weeks that I agonized and wrestled with the choice, I was treated like gold. Mike did everything for me that I had wished for the first two times I had been pregnant. He pampered me, loved me, took care of things. I started to feel extremely optimistic. Maybe this WAS meant to be. Mike proposed on Christmas Eve and I accepted. I was on cloud nine, finally getting everything I had dreamed of. We moved into a house together in February and started to build our lives.
The pregnancy was going well. I had my ultrasound and discovered we were having a boy. I was thrilled to be able to give Mike a son. He had a son in his first marriage, and tragically he choked at 10 months old and passed away. The signs all kept pointing in the direction of fate. Towards my 30th week, I had another ultrasound. My OB was concerned that I might have placenta previa. He wanted me to follow up a few weeks later. I had that ultrasound and he still couldn't tell exactly how low the placenta was. He had us go to Intermountain Medical Center to meet with a specialist and to have a more in depth ultrasound. The news wasn't good. Not only was it a placenta previa, but it was also a vasa previa where the blood vessels supporting the baby went through the placenta as well. If I went into labor, both myself and the baby would bleed to death within 5 minutes. Also, the baby was starting to appear growth-restricted. I had been working as a bank teller up to this point (35 weeks) and I was immediately put on bedrest. The call I received that evening from my OB was a shocker. We would be having a C-section later that week. I was on complete bedrest until then. I was instantly panicked. My parents were on vacation; before they left, everything seemed fine, so they went. I wasn't prepared yet! But the baby had to be delivered.
On May 29th, 2008, Mike and I arrived at Alta View Hospital early in the morning. We went through all of the steps to be registered and admitted. I had the support of my grandma, sister-in-law, and my mother and father-in-law were taking care of the other kids. I was scared, but delivering 4 weeks early wasn't too worrisome and I was excited to meet my boy. I had normal vaginal deliveries for my other two, so I was scared about the C-section, but everything was going smoothly. With Mike by my side, the procedure went quick, and before we knew it, we heard our tiny little boy's cries. He was so strong! I remember being surprised at how loud the cries were, and he looked mad to be out! Zachary Michael was born and was 4 lbs, 11 oz. They took him away while they finished with me. I was wheeled to the recovery room before I knew there was a problem. Mike and my grandma were in the nursery, watching Zachary while he had all of the standard things done to him. While they watched, he started to turn blue. The nurses all crowded in and Mike came to me. Fortunately the pediatrician who happened to be there on call was my other childrens' pediatrician who I would trust with any of their lives. I knew something was wrong when I saw Mike's face.
The recovery nurse said that Zachary was having trouble breathing and they didn't know what was wrong, but were working on him. Mike and I clutched each others' hands and prayed, something we don't do often. It seemed like hours with no update and my recovery nurse offered to call over to the nursery for an update. When she hung up the phone, she spoke words I will never forget, "I don't know what happened, but they are currently performing chest compressions." At first I thought she was going to say he was dead with the way she started the sentence. I'm sure all of the blood drained from my face. Mike was a mess, considering he had gone through this before, except he was the one giving his son chest compressions while he waited for an ambulance. The outcome there was all he could think of. I don't know how much time had passed when Dr. Cox, the pediatrician, came into the recovery room.
He was grim as he informed us that Zachary surprised them all by rapidly declining after his birth. He stopped breathing, and then his heart stopped. They did CPR for 20 minutes before they got him back, and they were arranging for his transfer to Primary Children's hospital. The helicopter would be there soon and they would be wheeling him past my room before taking him to the Lifeflight chopper. I was brought to my room and waited while seeing the scared looks of my relatives. When Zachary was brought by my room, I can't even describe how I felt. He was in an incubator with wires and tubes coming out of limb. He was intubated and had tape holding the tube to his face. He looked just like Jacob had looked 3 years prior. I touched his little body, and then wanted them to take him away so they could get him to the children's hospital. When he was wheeled away, I felt empty.
Dr. Cox walked into the room after Zachary left. He told us that he would be keeping in touch with the hospital and would be visiting there as well. He didn't know what was wrong other than he was pretty convinced of an infection. My sister-in-law spoke up and told him that my parents were on vacation and asked if she should call them and ask them to return. They had already been calling for an update, and I had been holding them off until I knew what to tell them. Dr. Cox looked very grim and said that yes, they needed to come home. That was almost the scariest part of all. It was as if he put into words that there was a good chance my little boy wouldn't make it.
Somehow I made it through the rest of that day. Poor Mike didn't know what to do. He had been up to Primary's, and back to me (about a 30 minute drive) and was torn trying to figure out who he should stay with. He spent the night by my side and the next morning the hospital gave me a pass to leave for a few hours so I could see my baby. I was wheeled to the car and experienced a very painful drive. I didn't care. By the time we reached the NICU and scrubbed in, I was beyond anxious to see my baby. When Mike wheeled me to his bed, I was instantly brought back to a very similar image. Just like with Jacob, he was hooked up to probably a dozen machines and drips. He was swollen from water retention. After talking to the doctors there, they still didn't know what had happened, but hoped that cultures taken would indicate the problem. It was another waiting game.
The next two weeks can be summed up pretty easily. I was released from the hospital the next day and juggled home life and time at the hospital. The cultures never grew anything, but he was responding to the broad spectrum antibiotics. Although it is rare to pass infections in a C-section, everything was so similar to my previous birth, they called it GBS. We had the roller coaster ride of waiting for medications to be dropped off, one by one. We waited anxiously until the day finally came to remove the breathing tube. I spent numerous hours in the pumping room trying to store up milk for him. Finally the day came that we could hold our little baby. It was an amazing experience. He was so tiny. I couldn't imagine taking something that small home, but on his 2 week birthday, it was time. With tears of joy and gratitude for the doctors and nurses at Primary's, we bundled up our baby, loaded him into the car seat, and took him home.
Zachary has been an amazing baby. I believe he was a gift to us and I will never take it for granted. He has had 2 MRIs and the doctors are amazed that he experienced no brain damage during the 20 minutes of CPR. He is so full of spunk and personality, and he seems to look at each day as a gift as well. I tell people that he's just so happy to be here that he can't complain. He has reached all of his milestones early and shows every sign of being just as smart as his dad. I thank God every day for the miracle he brought us and am forever thankful to have him in our lives.
Since then, I have become aware of the lack of attention GBS is given. It doesn't seem to be taken as seriously as it should, and I would love to see more awareness come about. If there is anything I can do to help this cause, I am more than happy to do so.
Thanks for reading my story. If it can make a difference to anyone planning to become pregnant or who is already pregnant, then I can say it had a purpose.
— Emily Boggess, UT, USA
Emily tells their story to anyone expecting or planning a family.
To learn more about Perinatal & GBS Misconceptions, click HERE.
To learn more about the Signs & Symptoms of Preterm Labor, click HERE.
To learn more about the Signs & Symptoms of GBS Infection, click HERE.
To learn more about Why Membranes Should NOT Be Stripped, click HERE.
To learn more about How to Help Protect Your Baby from Group B Strep (GBS), click HERE.
To learn more about the Signs & Symptoms of Preterm Labor, click HERE.
To learn more about the Signs & Symptoms of GBS Infection, click HERE.
To learn more about Why Membranes Should NOT Be Stripped, click HERE.
To learn more about How to Help Protect Your Baby from Group B Strep (GBS), click HERE.