Looking back now, it’s easy to see the signs I missed.
But the discomfort always subsided, and my doctors were never alarmed.
And best of all, I’d just found out I was pregnant.
She sent me to a nephrologist to check on my kidneys to be safe.
When he called me at work, I was blindsided by what I heard.
“Brynn, your tests are coming back positive for lupus,” the doctor told me.
It was anautoimmune disease, meaning my body was turning on itself.
Lupus was causing inflammation that was putting stress on my kidneys and raising my blood pressure.
It’s also what may have caused the mysterious pain and swelling in my hands and ankle.
No one knows what causes lupus, and although doctors can treat it, there is no cure.
My mind went blank.
I was about to be a new momhow could I have an incurable illness?
The only “cure” for preeclampsia was delivery, and that wasn’t an option yet either.
As a diagnosis, it was frightening but more appealing than lupus.
If I can make it through the pregnancy, I told myself, everything will go back to normal.
Kidney failure was a risk if I had lupus and it became severe.
If I had preeclampsia, it could lead to a seizure or stroke.
I was told to take it easy and monitor my blood pressure three times a day.
That’s the ‘we’re scared’ level," my OB warned.
That Christmas, I was five months pregnant and had already gained 30 pounds.
My kidneys were filtering out the nutrients my body needed from my diet and retaining only the water.
Puffy and bloated, I felt like a water balloon.
I expected to have swollen ankles, but this was ridiculous!
Moving any body part felt like lifting a 20-pound weight.
I couldn’t even climb a flight of stairs without stopping halfway to catch my breath.
Only this time, the monitor read 138 over 88.
It was close to the “we’re scared” level, but we tried to stay calm.
By the time I returned home, my phone was already ringing.
The urgency in her voice sent a wave of fear through my body.
Not for my life, but for my son’s.
We had just decided on a name, Noah.
Noah was only 23 weeks.
I felt like a ticking time bomb.
I had never felt less attractive in my life.
But Stephan never stopped telling me how beautiful I was.
Even though I knew he was lying through his teeth, I needed to hear it.
), which meant additional shots to stabilize my glucose levels.
My arms were covered in bruises from the needles.
Just get him here," I told myself.
“you’re free to do this.
We will win this battle.”
He had fallen and needed surgery for a broken hip.
I thought now about one of the last times we had visited together.
“I swear that man will do anything to get close to you!”
my mom said, smiling through her tears.
He was 77 years old and had grown increasingly frail.
I knew from her worry that he might not survive.
“It’s also used in chemotherapy, and it may cause you to lose your hair.”
Stephan saw tears welling in my eyes and asked everyone to leave the room.
Then he held me tight as I broke down.
Seeing my grandfather wasn’t an optionI could barely move.
“I’ll go,” Stephan said.
I looked at my husband and said, “You tell him I love him.
Tell him he makes all of my days.”
When I opened them again, I saw a digital clock that read 11:59 P.M.
I thought I must be going crazy because I knew there wasn’t a digital clock in my room.
I buzzed for the nurse, but by the time she came, it was gone.
She told me to take a few deep breaths and helped me calm down.
Not long after she left, the vision was back.
Everywhere I lookedright, left, everywhereI saw this digital clock: 11:59 P.M.
I rang the nurse again, and when she returned, my body was numb.
I couldn’t speak or moveI felt trapped in my body.
I’m told I had a seizure.
“It’s OK. We’re having the baby now,” he said.
I knew it was too soon and Noah might not survive.
I just need a few minutes and I’ll be fine," I pleaded.
For weeks, I’d focused all my energy on keeping it together for our baby.
I couldn’t do it anymore: All I felt was fear.
“hey, just let this all be over.”
Noah was there when I woke.
I peered at him through my hospital bed rails as they rolled me by him in his incubator.
“I love you, buddy,” I whispered.
“This is your mom.”
There wasn’t time to hold him.
Babies his size have about a 50 percent chance of survival.
Within a few days, my kidneys began to improve and Noah’s vital signs started to stabilize.
I was released three days later and barely recognized myself when I got home.
Fluid wept from my C-section wound, forcing me to wear Depends to absorb all the liquid.
While I was at home recovering, Noah was in the NICU, still struggling to survive.
Although I cried, I also felt a strange peace.
After two long months, Noah was strong enough for us to hold him.
He was so tiny that my husband’s wedding ring could fit all the way up his thigh.
Watching him fight for his life gave me strength to keep fighting for my own.
If he could survive this, then so could I.
The first time I tried to climb the stairs and make myself a sandwich, I cried with exhaustion.
After four months in the NICU, Noah came home from the hospital.
Lupus symptoms come and go, and when they appear, it’s called a flare.
The swelling was receding, but lupus made me feel unattractive and physically flawed.
I felt guilty for not being the wife and mother I had always imagined I’d be.
But I kept my promise to myself, and each day, I pushed my body to grow stronger.
As of this past March, my lupus has been in remission for one year.
It’s been a long journey, but I’m feeling like myself again.
Accepting I have lupus is an ongoing struggle.
I find myself in a bad mood on days I have a doctor’s appointment.
Maybe we’ll adopt down the road, but for now, we think our little family is enough.
But I’m learning to let go.
There are still moments I worry over little things, but I don’t beat myself up anymore.
I have my family, and as long as I have them, I have the world.
They make all of my days.
Photo Credit: Chris Carbajal
