The following is a series of three e-mails I sent out during the hospital stay, detailing my wife's preeclampsia and my daughter's birth from my point of view. The date and subject are placed on top of each one. I'll clean it up and make it pretty later.
8/19/2005
Expect the Unexpected (When Expecting)

 Hello All,

Felt the urge to send out word to everyone who's e-mail address I could remember.  I'll start out by saying that 
everything is OK - both Eva and I are fine, and there's no need to worry.  If either one of us was normal, we'd 
never have gotten married, and so we've taken our tendency to not do things normal to the next level.

As many of you know, Eva is 30 weeks pregnant, with a due date of October 23.  She's carrying an Algermissen baby, 
so her belly is quite a bit larger than most women at 30 weeks, and her feet are swollen more than one would want, 
but she's been doing all the right things and is a healthy girl, so we were just starting to get ready for the 
final 10 weeks and get everything in order for the big day.  As is common for 30 weekers, she was going to the OB 
for checkups every two weeks.  Wednesday last was the most recent of these.

I myself decided to add on to the stress of a new baby with the stress of changing jobs.  I left United Space 
Alliance, and the whole darn space center for that matter, on July 29th, spent a weekend unemployed and proud, 
and started with Northrop Grumman on August 1st.  For those of you not so good with calendric math, Eva's most 
recent doctor visit occurred on my third Wednesday as a Grum-Man.  The trouble started around 11am.

Sitting in the programming lab at my new job (which, by the way, I love), trying to figure out the most efficient 
way to get a flight simulator in Arlington to talk to a flight simulator in Tuscon, the phone rings.  Eva informs 
me that her blood pressure was really high, and the doctor was very worried, and she was being admitted to the 
hospital for more tests.

After sending up a few prayers, I figure everything is going to be OK, and I continue about my day.  The 
programming problems were solved, my partner and I were watching the program compile (the geek version of watching 
paint dry, except you get paid for it, and it doesn't always go well).  The phone rings.  The girl next to me answers, 
then hands it over to me, with a vague "For you."

What entered my ear was a tearful Eva informing me that she's being transferred to a hospital in Orlando, because 
they think she has preeclampsia and this other hospital is better equipped to deal with premature babies.

I was at work in Orlando, 90 minutes from where she was, and 20 from where she was going.  So, I waited at work, 
figuring I wouldn't be able to get to her before she left.  I did some research.  Preeclampsia is not good.  It is 
characterized by high blood pressure, excessive swelling, and a certain protein in the urine.  It can lead to 
seizures and strokes, and be fatal to the mother and the baby.  This was not good.  I didn't know what to do.  
What to think.  I never really had to face the idea that my wife could die.  I was suddenly living someone else's life.

Eva called again - the Orlando hospital was full, but there was another in Melbourne and she was going to be 
leaving within the hour.  Well, before, I was in the middle of where she was and where she was going.  Now, she 
was 90 minutes east of me, and going 40 minutes south of that.  I told my boss, and he was very understanding and 
told me to get going.

I ended up getting to the new hospital, Holmes Medical Center, a little bit before her.  They wheeled her in to the 
emergency maternity ward, with me by her side at long last.  The tests came back - she definitely has preeclampsia.
It can be controlled with meds, but the only cure is to deliver the baby.  Her blood pressure was 160 / 106 - which 
is borderline severe, and it was looking like the baby was going to have to come out soon.

However, she was put onto a Magnesium Sulfate IV, and that has stabilized her.  We've both been in Holmes since 
about 5:30 on Wednesday, and presently her blood pressure is a very normal 138 / 75.  She's not going to be allowed
to leave until Anastasia is born.  The meds are keeping her stable, and she's doing very well for being doped up.  
It is looking like she may have to deliver sometime next week, though the doctor thinks there's a chance that she 
may be able to carry until the 34 week mark. 

This hospital is very well equipped to deal with pre-mature babies, and with the amount of prayer going on, we're 
not worried.  Anastasia will be well looked after, though we won't be able to take her home until around the time 
of the original due date, which will be rough.  And of course, every day that she isn't born makes her stronger, so
it is a matter of finding the right time that is safest for both my wife and my daughter-to-be.

It amazes me what life can throw at you.  It also amazes me the strength that God gives you when the going gets 
rough.  If you would have asked us last week how we would deal with this situation, we'd have probably told you we 
couldn't.  And I reckon that last week we couldn't.  But this happened this week, and we have found strength in 
faith, family, and friends.  Being together helps a lot -- I'm able to sleep in a pull out chair right next to her,
and to be here with her at all times so I can help her, and God has given me whatever it is I needed to be calm and
helpful, and He has given Eva the ability to be strong and deal with this thing as if it is just a slight annoyance.

My dad loaned me his laptop, and it turns out that there is wireless internet in the hospital, so I'm able to stay 
connected and write emails such as this.  I will keep you posted on how we're doing, and let you know when the baby 
is born.  But I repeat, we are both fine.  Eva's BP has stabilized remarkably well, and the doctors and nurses are 
all impressed and hopeful.  The hospital has already delivered at least two 30-week babies this week alone, and 
they are both doing very well.

So, just wanted to let everyone know where we are and what is going on.  Your prayers, of course, will be 
appreciated.  I know there are people that should have gotten this email that didn't, but I was working largely 
from memory on email addresses since this isn't my regular computer. 

Love,
-Patrick

8/20/2005
What to Expect

Hello to all again.

Big things are about to happen, so I'm going to try to keep this update shorter than the last.  And it will be the 
last for a while.

Last night, things took a turn for the worse.  Eva's blood pressure started to rise slowly.  We both had trouble 
sleeping, Eva even more so than I.  We both despaired a bit.  In the morning, they took some more blood, and Eva 
was ready for the whole thing to be over.  She couldn't sleep, she could barely breathe, and she couldn't get 
comfortable.  It was not cool.

The doctor came in and we discussed our options.  The lab work wasn't good - the BP is beginning to affect other 
organs, including the placenta.  It looks like Anastasia is going to be safer out of Eva than in her at this point.

So, Eva is freaked out.  I'm freaked out.  We know we're in the best place for premies, but it is a scary thing to 
face.  She needs Mommy.  Her parents live in Rockledge, which is about 40 mintues away.  I'm just as freaked out 
as Eva, but it rests on me to calm everything down until Mommy can get here.  I don't have what it takes.  So I 
pray.  A lot.

Suddenly, I have what it takes.  I fall back on what we learned in Natural Childbirth classes, and begin using some
of the relaxation techniques they drilled into us Dads.  Well, they may have been taught to me to help ease the 
trauma of birth, but I think they helped save Eva's life that morning.  When Mommy arrived, Eva was more relaxed 
than she had been in days.  The nurse came in, and we were able to ask calmer questions about what was going to 
happen, and by the time it was all over, we agreed that inducing labor was the best thing to do.  We had taken 
classes on the natural method, and the last things we ever wanted to do was induce labor or have a C-section, but 
now those were our only options.  We didn't want to take any unnatural drugs, but hey -- this is the rare case when
they are the only option.  This is why they were invented, and I thank God that they're here to save my wife and my child.

When we last checked, the baby was head down and anterior (look it up).  They're going to check again to make sure,
and if she's still pointed that way, we're going for a vaginal birth.  So, in about 15 mintues or so, they are going
to give Eva something that will soften up her cervix (I'm sure you wanted to know about that), and tomorrow morning 
she will be put on patocin (I don't know how to spell it).  This should cause contractions to begin.  With any luck,
Anastasia Marie Algermissen will be born on August 21st, 2005 -- exactly 31 weeks into the pregnancy.

Tomorrow isn't likely to be fun.  I don't think I'll remember the birth of my daughter as the happiest day of my 
life -- I'll probably reserve that for the day 9 weeks from now when we'll finally be able to take her home.  I 
doubt I'll be able to give an update immediately as to what goes down tomorrow, but I'll let you know in a few days.

In case you're worried about such things, I told my boss what's up and he's totally cool with letting me take off 
as much time as I need for this.  He's even going to see if people are willing to donate some vacation time to me, 
since I've only been there a few weeks.

This is certainly a scary time, and I am very concerned about what's going to be happening to the woman  I love, 
but I'm not worried.  I feel that we're doing the right thing, and I firmly believe that both Eva and Anastasia 
will come out of this OK.

Thanks to everyone who's been giving us support - it means a lot to us, and we'll need you all over the next few 
days.  Thank you so much!!!

Love,
-Patrick

8/22/2005
Better than Expected

So, soon after my last e-mail, the doctor came in and checked the baby.  She was still head-down and ready to go. 
So, the unpleasantness began.  I'm not really going to get into gory details now, but let's just say that the doctor 
stuck something somewhere up into Eva through an opening that seemed convenient to the doctor, but inconvenient to 
Eva.  Then, she wasn't allowed to move for 2 hours, then she could eat and was expected to sleep.  The long haul 
was being made on tomorrow's truck.

So the morning came.  The monitors on Eva's belly told the nurses that she had already had some contractions while 
she slept.  Small ones, like "I'm".  Then they gave her the pitosin just after 6:00 in the am.  And then we were 
left alone.  Like, OK, I guess you guys are qualified to deal with this.

We had taken 11 weeks of natural birthing classes (classes on "The Bradley Method", which I would highly reccomend 
to those in a situation requiring birthing classes).  The final class occured last Friday, while were stuck in the 
hospital, being moved from a really nice room into a really cramped room.  The main goal of the classes was getting
you information: various stages of labor, what the baby's doing during those times, how long contractions are, etc.
The next main focus is relaxation techniques that are supposed to help calm you down during labor.  These proved 
very useful during our hospital stay, especially after we'd been in for a few days (we're still in now) and were 
starting to despair.  Eva's blood pressures were getting really high, she was panicking, I was panicking, and we 
fell back on the stuff we learned in Bradley.  I think it helped save her life.  I'll get to how effective it was 
during labor a bit further down.  The rest of it was telling you about what drugs there were and why you don't 
want them.  Pitocin, because your body shouldn't be in labor when it doesn't want to be, epidural because it is 
dangerous, painful to administer, and moves the pain out of labor where it belongs and moves it to after labor 
where it doesn't belong.  They liken labor to running a marathon, which is painful but worth it, and it would be 
difficult to run a marathon while doped up on pain killers.

Anyway, so now we've missed class, are nine weeks premature, and on pitocin.  Great so far.  Contractions started 
out fairly simple, and it was an exciting time -- the baby was coming.  We know that pitocin was needed, and we 
were OK using it since we were using it for its intended purpose, and not just for convenience.  Of course, they 
say pitocin makes your contractions more painful because the uterus isn't ready to get going.  Plus, she's also on 
the magnesium sulfate, which is a muscle relaxor.  So, a struggle was going on inside Eva, and the exciting 
contractions ended quickly and we got into the "serious" stage of labor we learned about.  Contractions starting to 
get bigger and more painful, like "don't". 

As in, 'Don't touch me!'  'Don't eat!'  'Don't leave me!' 'Don't do any of that stupid relaxation technique!' and 
'Don't let them give me pain meds!'  We were already doing a lot of unnatural stuff, but we still wanted to be as 
natural as we could -- no epidural, and no c-section if at all possible.

Then, we got to the "transition" stage, where the contractions get really intense, like "CAN'T!".  That's the stage
you always see on TV: 'I can't do this anymore!!!'  'I can't believe you did this to me!' (she didn't actually say 
that last one, but everyone expects it, so I threw it in.)  This is the toughest part, but also the shortest.  
It's when most people go for the epidural.  But I had my instructions: "Don't let them give me pain meds."  Heck, 
at that point, I could have used some: we were not properly prepared to go in the hospital, since we only expected 
a day stay.  Both sets of parents were awesome support for us, coming down to check on us, bringing us stuff from 
the house and from the store.  But one thing that we didn't think of, was clippers for her fingernails.  However, 
I now have some marks on my hand that will never let me forget her fingernails.

I'll try to sum it up quickly: labor sucks. 

It was rough on her, it was tough on me.  However, I remembered our training, and I stayed by her side as 
constantly as possible.  Only twice did I put her mom in charge to run to the bathroom.  The first time, I got 
everything done and was back in time for the next contraction.  The last time, I heard it start without me.  I 
finished quickly, but it was over by the time I got back.  It was only one, but it was the money contraction: she 
has said she wanted to push.

Now, our classes told us not to fight the urge to push -- your baby needs to come out.  But our baby is special, 
and we needed to be in a operating room right by the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit (NICU) so that Anastasia could 
be taken over right away.  We got the doctor.  We got the nurse.  Actually, it went down like.
INT. LABOR ROOM -- NIGHT

PATRICK pushes the "Call Nurse" button on the labor bed, while EVA fights the urge to push.  Despite a complete 
lack of relaxation in the room, RELAXING MUSIC plays in the background.

Times passes.  Eva has another contraction.  Finally,

                   NURSE (Vo)
       Can I help you?

                   PATRICK
             (panicked)
       She's having the urge to push!!!!

                   NURSE (Vo)
       Oh, she has the urge to push.  That's nice.
       I'll be right there.

Eva has two more contractions, asking if she push yet.  Patrick says 'No'.

NURSE enters.
Somewhere along the way, the doctor was running to the operating room and passed Eva's dad, who had been in the Family Waiting Room since he and Mommy arrived at around 7:30 am. This was now about 6pm, 12 hours after the pitocin had started. He was in the hall, looking for the loo, and the doctor runs past with sugery type booties, gown, and hat. She passes by him and says, "We're having a baby." His urge to go to the bathroom ceased. My booties didn't fit my size-13 feet, so I had to tiptoe alongside the labor bed-on-wheels, past all the grandparents-in-waiting, in a moment that can apparently be described by many phrases-with-hypens. During the "two more contractions before the nurse finally shows up" moment, a significant cliche applied itself to my life. I had been thinking, "No more kids -- I can't see how people have lots of kids. This is the worst agony she's ever been in, and it's the worst agony I've ever been in." And yes, I know her agony was worse than mine, but mine was still my worst. I don't think I could have handled what she had to deal with. I was totally off of children for the rest of my life. Then, liquids began to gush from my wife. I had asked earlier what signs we were waiting for, and was told: 1) urge to push, and 2) liquids gushing from your wife. Suddenly, Anastasia's arrival was immenent. It was the greatest joy I had experienced in my life. I wanted lots more kids. Less than 60 seconds had passed. A phenomenon manifested itself that those of you who came to my wedding bore witness to the only other time it happened: Patrick became a blubbering idiot. I don't really know what to say that hasn't been said enough times to just sort of exist in the collective unconcious of all humanity. We were in the operating room. There was some awkwardness trying to push the baby out. The baby came, and all cliches you've heard apply. I won't repeat them here, except to say it was awesome and humbling. As I'm sure you know. Despite my love of horror movies, I'm very squeamish about, like, real blood and stuff. I didn't want to watch her come out. I didn't want to cut the cord. I didn't want to look at the afterbirth. When it all was really happening, I couldn't take my eyes off of "the spot" as soon as I could see the head. I watched her come out. I wanted to cut the cord (the doctor didn't ask, though, so I didn't cut a damn thing). I watched the afterbirth, though I did turn away from that. That's just gross. We saw her, and she was immediately taken away and put on a respirator. Don't recall if I said or not, but at 31 weeks the main concern is the lungs. Everything else is pretty fully formed, but the lungs have trouble staying open. They did what they needed, gave us a moment to look at her (but not hold her). Then, they took my 3 pound 9 ounce, 17 inch baby away from me. It is now 6:13 pm on 8/22/2005 as I write this. She was born 6:12 pm on 8/21/2005, so I was writing about it just as she turned 24 hours old. I love her so much. I still haven't held her yet, but we got to see her at about 9:15 that night. Blubbering is becoming a more frequent phenomenon in my life (I'm doing it as I write this, and probably as you read it). She's doing awesome. They tell me she's better than average. At that time, she was off the respirator, and breathing room air with her own lungs. She's so strong. Hold on, I'm blubbering again. She's doing really well. Mom is doing well. And by "Mom" I mean Eva. They just took her IV off. I want to hold little Anastasia, but at least I can touch her. I want to take her home, but at least I can see her. It's hard having a newborn and not be able to be with her, but we're so glad that she's where she is, getting the care she needs to survive. And we'll have her by Halloween. Both of us thank you all so much for you love, support, and prayers. It really does mean a lot to us, and we feel really, really, blessed, despite all the hardships we've been through. And for the record, Eva did it. She made it through a hard, induced labor, with muscle relaxors in her, fighting against a rare disease. She did it. Without going for the epidural. Without getting a c-section. She's awesome, and I love her so much too. I was impressed. The doctor was impressed. The nurses were impressed. She did it, and Anastasia's stronger for it. Love, -Patrick