The day that everything changed

I arrived at the hospital around 4:30pm, went through the ER and was pointed in the direction of OB triage. I waited a couple minutes as the nurse at the desk helped another couple. When she called me forward I explained that I was a little over 18 weeks and without asking anything else about my situation said I'd have to go to the ER, because they couldn't see any patients earlier than 20 weeks (I was TEN days away from their cut off). Frustrated, but determined to be seen ASAP I hurried back through a maze of construction to ER admitting. As I explained my symptoms, the triage nurse sweetly smiled and asked if I was certain I wasn't having "bladder issues" I assured her that wasn't the case and after weighing me and taking my temperature they took me straight to a room. The nurse that initially saw me explained that they had to contact my doctor before determining how they wanted to diagnose whether or not my water had truly broken. They could order an ultrasound to check fluid levels or conduct a swab test, but that had to be done in labor and delivery and I quickly got the idea they were avoiding transferring me to that floor. At this point I wasn't having contractions, so they were pretty certain I was "just fine"
As I waited to be taken for an ultrasound, the nurse decided to do a pelvic exam. This was a turning point in my labor. Once she completed the exam, I immediately started having contractions that were strong and less than two minutes apart. Shortly after that Brett and my sister arrived, I was so grateful to no longer be alone, this was going from bad to worse very quickly. We waited maybe 15-20 minutes to be taken for the ultrasound, during this time the ER doctor stepped in and said that they had to "determine I wasn't having a miscarriage" before they could do anything else.
Having delivered two babies previously, I was baffled that I wasn't being monitored for contractions and the baby wasn't being monitored in any way. I had experienced preterm labor before and the first thing they do is place you on fetal heart monitors and monitor contractions. How could they help me if they didn't know what was happening???
The ultrasound was excruciating, they wouldn't let us see the monitor, nor could the tech give us any info. I laid there, still leaking fluid, staring at the ceiling and prayed with all my strength. By the time I was wheeled back to the room, contractions were extremely intense and I began to get sick. My sister stepped out and asked a nurse to come in. After a few minutes they handed me a Vicodin and again left the room. Shortly after taking the pain medication, with no medical staff present and haven't being checked for nearly an hour, I delivered Presley with Brett and my sister by my side. I remember the fear and crying "I'm losing her" I knew she was under the sheet and I asked my sister to get some help. Before she stepped out, a moment I will never forget, she checked and new that it was over. The minutes after her delivery were a blur. Brett and I were in shock and utterly devastated. It happened so quickly and if the medical staff was aware of what was taking place, they never informed us. We were left in the back corner of the emergency room to deliver our daughter alone.
The hours that followed were full of confusion, I eventually contacted my friend Karen, with Forget Me Not, because we were being treated as if our baby didn't exist. The OB doctor that eventually saw us for less than five minutes told us that we would likely never know why we lost our baby and stated that the hospital could "dispose of her remains" for us. I was terrified. There I had sat clutching my baby girl for hours. She had the tiniest fingers and toes, beautiful lips, eye brows, eye lashes...and we were expected to just throw here away?!? I insisted we sign documents to make arrangement with a mortuary. This led to even more confusion, I was asked to sign papers multiple times because nobody seemed to know the proper protocol. Eventually we saw a social worker who seemed to know what to do. But that fear was gripping me. What if we couldn't get our baby back?
After Brett and I had some time with Presley and our families were able to spend a few moments with her, we finally made the impossible decision to let her go. What happened next, I will spare you the details, but our baby was treated with absolutely no dignity. It is a memory forever seared into my mind.
I share this part of our story in so much detail because every step of the way, and even today, I am at a loss as to why a pregnant woman, at any stage of pregnancy would be turned away from a triage where staff specializing in this area can treat a patient. If I had discovered the day before in my doctor's office that my baby's heart was no longer beating, I would have been scheduled for an induction through labor and delivery and received much different care. But because my baby was (likely) still alive when I arrived but my labor couldn't be stopped, I was forced through the ER where they were completely and totally ill-equipped for my situation. It is heartbreaking and makes no sense. I have reached out to the hospital in various ways, not to lodge a complaint, but to spark a conversation about how traumatic this experience was. But my phone calls and emails have gone unanswered. My hope is that by speaking out, my voice might be heard. My prayer is that somehow no other family will have to face this life altering experience in the same way.