I will give you the warning, this is long. But, when I think about the day my baby was born, I just can't think about it without including everything that I have included below. It was, for me, and ordeal. Not because it was bad, but because just weird stuff happened to me and because Brandon and I were just so unconvinced that labor was going to happen naturally.
Let us start with Sunday, November 6, 2011. About midnight-ish, I wake up losing my mind. All of a sudden, I'm anxious. I want to pace, cry, scream, sleep, do nothing, do everything, and I'm so tired! I feel like I am literally freaking out. I have NEVER felt like this before. I don't think I woke Brandon up, but, if I did, it was only for a second because, what could he do? I didn't know what to do myself. I almost went to the nursery to finish stuff I hadn't finished (hanging cleaned baby clothes and random little things like that), but I convinced myself I NEEDED to sleep and put myself back to bed. A LOT of prayer to the Lord that night got me through. I find prayer to be peaceful itself, and, combined with praying for peace to make it through the night, I finally got some sleep. Broken...but still, sleep.
Brandon had to work Sunday during the day, so I tried to find things to keep myself occupied with, because the anxiety had not gone away at all. And all I can think is it was true anxiety. I couldn't hardly eat anything or drink anything. To top it all off, the Thursday before I came down with my first cold in so, so long! So, because the cold medicine is pseudoephedrine, I quit taking my cold medicine because I was afraid it was contributing to my craziness. However, not drinking anything hardly at all is always the worst idea when you have a cold. I may have taken nose spray (which is a miracle in itself because I find it difficult to shoot anything up my nose!) that wasn't on the approved to take during pregnancy list, very sparingly, because not breathing wasn't helping my craziness either.
I just kept praying that this anxiety meant SOMETHING was going to happen, labor-wise.
Monday came, and still, the anxiety persisted. I sent an email to my doctor asking if there was anything at all that could be prescribed to me to help me through this. Yep, I was basically begging for a Xanax or Ativan if they'd give it to me! I DO NOT ask for meds, that is how bad I felt. Anyway, Monday was the date with the perinatologist to take a look at our little buddy to see how he was doing. If he was fine, we were going to continue with the induction 11-10-11, with me being admitted the night before for starting the induction process. They listened to his heartbeat for like 10 minutes, then took us back for the ultrasound. Ultrasounds this late suck. I couldn't see anything, really. They gave us print outs, but, whatever. I guess I could see the shadows of his face...but not really. Even looking at them now I can hardly figure out what she said was there. The tech guessed his weight at 8lb 8oz. Then the doc came in to look. He said everything looked great, honestly, except the fact he hadn't engaged in my lower pelvis yet. He said that I could go through with the induction, but he seriously felt, given he hasn't engaged, that he didn't think he would engage at all, that there may be a his head versus my bone structure issue preventing it. He felt I was highly likely to end up with a c-section no matter what. The perinatologist guessed the baby's weight at 9lbs.
Well, he called my doctor to tell her what he thought and she called me back later that day. We talked and we opted to skip the induction process and do the c-section. I was really driven towards the c-section because I was hoping to have it scheduled the next day, Tuesday, since the anxiety was really getting to me. The only thing they could give me would be Ambien to help me sleep, but, honestly, after giving it to patients in the ICU and seeing how they react (when forced to be basically sleepless anyways) made me decline. I told the doc that I didn't want to take the chance of having a weird reaction to it when I was having difficulty already, that Benedryl alone was doing ok for me sleep-wise at the time.
The scheduling lady called and said she couldn't get me in for a c-section until Thursday, November 10 at 5:30pm. UGH! I was going to have to wait FOREVER plus be nothing by mouth all during the day WITH anxiety! Sucky! Whatever, we took it and just sucked it up. We just counted each day as the last day we were not going to be parents. It was weird. I tried to eat. Brandon tried to help me as much as he could. We did our best.
Tuesday came and went. Anxiety was still there. My Braxton Hick's contractions were ever present. Actually, the pressure of them disturbed my sleep a little bit. Technically, I could time them out, but there was no pain, just the pressure change in my abdomen that I usually felt with them. I told myself that if I couldn't sleep and they kept up, maybe I'd talk to Brandon and we'd go to the hospital. Well, one Benedryl later, they slowed and I passed out.
Wednesday, November 9, 2011, at about 7am I woke up with a start. Holy crap, REALLY!? I can't sleep for anything! I was soooo angry that I was awake and didn't know what to do about it. There is like nothing to be done at 7am on a stupid Wednesday when you and your husband are off work. Ugh. I felt my Braxton Hick's again while lying there in bed, but I felt a very vague dull tiny ache in my lower back with each contraction. I was not encouraged, because I had had in the recent past period like cramps with them, too, and I would pee and it would go away. So I made sure to use the bathroom and get comfortable in bed again. The ache didn't really go away though...but it wasn't changing. I did keep timing the contractions, even though I KNEW they were the fake ones I get all the time.
I decide to sit up in bed because there is nothing else to do and start playing Solitaire on my phone (which was my savior during the anxious times because it was mind-numbing enough to make the time go by). As I was sitting up, I developed more of an ache "down there" with the contractions. Hmm....now I'm getting hopeful that labor was starting for real, but that sucks because there is no way that I would be lucky enough to finally go into labor 8 days late. I'm sure this isn't real.
After a little bit of it, I tell Brandon about it. We decide to keep watching it, run some errands, and make our way to the hospital. I take a shower, clip my nails, and make sure some odds and ends were done. Brandon gets some stuff together because we need to run by the police station, then his mom's, then the hospital. We opt not to take our bags with us because, honestly, we didn't think this was real. But we did grab the laptop, since we know from experience triage is boring, and the good camera, just in case. While at the police station, Brandon jokingly tells the dispatchers that I am having contractions while waiting for him in the truck. The dispatchers tell him that he needs to get his priorities straight, to which he jokingly responds, "Meh, I cracked a window for her." We're still not convinced this is it, otherwise I'm sure we would have been acting a bit different, lol.
We get on the road, stop by his mom's for a second, and head to the hospital. Brandon then asks me if I've made my short-term disability claim for being on maternity leave, and I tell him I hadn't because I'd forgotten. So, while on the road, I call in and start my claim, on the way to the hospital. At this point, these contractions are getting a little more achey.
We get to the hospital and walk up to the registration desk and I tell the lady at the desk that I think I'm having regular contractions. She says ok, but they're busy, so I need to wait in the waiting room before they can have me registered. Fine, that kinda sucks but it's ok. I go and sit down and Brandon runs up to my doctor's office to finish his FMLA paperwork. They call me back to register me and walking from the waiting room to the registration, which is a very short distance, changed everything. Holy moley, I couldn't hardly take the pain that had just overcome me. I tried to sit down and get comfortable and the registration lady noticed and let me know that I can answer her questions when I'm done with my contraction. Brandon checks us in to Labor and Deliver on Facebook at that point. It wasn't real until right then.
We get registered, which always takes a while because the electronic signature thingy is so slow, but I have to go back to the waiting room. There isn't any room in triage for me! OMG, these contractions sorta suck a lot. Brandon runs and grabs something to eat real quick, because he knows he is in for the long haul at this point. I call my mom and tell her that we're at labor and delivery, and I believe Brandon tells his mom that he thinks this is for real at this point, too. Finally, they call me and another lady back because they have a place for us. She takes the other lady to triage, because she's really early, and I'm 8 days past due. The nurse turns to me and says follow me, and I say, "Can we wait a sec?" Ugh, contraction, not something I really wanted to walk during, ya know. She was nice and said absolutely, then we were on our way. She placed me in LDR #3 (labor and delivery room 3) because "we have no room in triage." I thought to myself....ya, like I'm leaving this room without a kiddo today.
She sets me up, Brandon joins me (because he had been getting food), and I get settled. The Doc on call is one we like a lot, though not my usual doc, and he comes in and talks to me. I'm about 2cm but 90% effaced, it looks like this kid is engaging. I forget what station he said he was at, but it was promising, not there yet, but promising. He made a comment about considering letting me labor it out until tomorrow's c-section, but I had quite the contraction while he was there and he was like, well, lets get you your epidural and have this baby! Oh thank God, the words I wanted to hear!
I had to wait about 40 minutes for the epidural because three other women were ahead of me for theirs. Fine, I took it. Brandon took pictures of the whole room and me...and me during a contraction (thanks, babe). He also looked in every cabinet and I swear every drawer, every nook and cranny of that room. I made fun of him, of course. Finally, the anesthesiologist came in and gave me my epidural. It was pretty painless and quick. I only said "Ow" once, and it was more just because what he did surprised me than really hurt. Then I settled down to let it start working. Strangely enough, it mostly worked. We had to do a crap ton of extra doses and adding extra medication to it because I could still feel quite a soreness down there during a contraction. It looked like I was feeling it mostly at the peak of the contraction, and not the whole contraction, but it worried the nurses and anesthesiologist because they were afraid I wouldn't have proper pain relief when everything would be getting very intense. However, what I did notice, is when I was on my back getting checked out, I just felt pressure, no pain ever. It was nice, but everyone was still worried. I remained un-worried, but still let them know it did sorta hurt. I best described it as a very sore feeling muscle when I felt it, but then it went away.
The day flew by. I vomited after a huge extra pain dose, then asked for some nausea medicine after that, just to help ward it away. I vomited once more when they turned me, but I think it had everything to do with the motion. On the vomiting scale, it was a pretty pleasant barf since I hadn't eaten all day, I had only drank water on the way to the hospital. Oh, I also had them give me some acid reflux medicine, which was the most horrible stuff EVER (I actually only took half a dose because it was so gross it felt like it added to the burn!), because with each contraction, I had heartburn. I suppose it helped because I don't remember having many issues with it later. The nurse even told me she'd look the other way if I felt I really needed a Tums (which they really didn't want to give me because it was a particulate and liquids were better to aspirate than particulates, if aspiration did occur). I was fine, though. And, actually, I didn't request ice chips until late at night, when the whole ordeal was almost over. I told them the only thing I wanted after delivery was a huge cup of water, I was so thirsty at that point.
They did have to give me Pitocin. They were pretty gentle about increasing it. Probably around 3pm or so, the Doc came in and said he was going to go ahead and break my water to help encourage the labor to progress. The nurse had just checked me and said she didn't think he'd need anything to break it because it was bulging as it was. And, lo and behold, he broke my water while just checking me. Didn't even really notice it, actually. However, I was listening to find out if I had meconium staining or not...and I did. Sigh, I didn't really want that, but the Doc was not concerned at all. He just said the kiddo was already doing baby things and was just ready to come out, no concerns. I wasn't going to worry because the hospital has a great NICU, should it be needed, and I've known kids to have zero issues as well after meconium staining. It probably was going to be fine. Especially since he was still kicking me and even getting the hiccups DURING labor!
Finally, at one point, the nurse said she was considering knocking the Pitocin up a tad just to get the contractions a little closer together, but she would check me first. Good thing she did because I was just about complete! She decided to make sure I was turned well on one side, to help labor that one little section of cervix away to make me complete, and she'd check me again in a little bit. I had already started to feel a pressure in my bottom only during a contraction, and let her know that, but that when the contraction was over, the pressure was gone as well. She had to go deliver another lady very quickly, but she assured me she was watching the entire time and to call if anything at all changed.
When she came back, she checked me again and let the Doc know that we were going to start pushing. He had to run and do a c-section, so we held off just a tad before we started pushing. When she came in to get us started, she asked me if I knew anything about pushing...uhm, no, lol. Shouldn't I know something?! But she was super cool and told me what to do and how Brandon was going to help (which is funny, since he hadn't looked at a thing the entire day! His head was always at the wall when things like that were going on, lol.) He was cracking the nurse up all day with his behavior.
So, we started pushing. It wasn't so bad. The epidural was working wonderfully, actually, since I was on my back. They had to move the heart rate monitors on my tummy because the kid had moved down so far. Thank God, it seems like his head and my bone structure were ok! At one point the nurse pressed on an area down there and asked if I could feel it, which I could, and she said push there, which helped soooo much! We had to take a break for a few contractions because one contraction really affected the baby's heart rate, so we let him rest and recover before pushing again. I wasn't worried throughout that because his heart rate did come back up, and I knew from nursing school that it sometimes happened. If it didn't come back up, I was in a good place to have it taken care of.
Then, she told me to stop. And I stopped. The Doc came in along with a tech and another nurse, who instantly thought Brandon was going to pass out. When it was explained to her that Brandon was, in fact, just fine, that he did not want to see anything, she found it hilarious and took over picture taking with our camera. So we started pushing again. I heard a nurse make a comment about the hair, so I asked, "He has a lot of hair?" A resounding OH YA came from the people in the room, at which point Brandon started his, "I told you so's" to me, since I'd had heart burn, of course the kid would have a bunch of hair. Then the nurses and Doc were talking about where that old wive's tale came from and I was just waiting for another contraction. I knew when they were coming on and the nurses and I were all together on pushing. His heart rate slowed down again, but we didn't take a break, and it popped right back anyways. Then the doc said stop pushing...ok, now, slowly push...ok, hold a second, ok, push a little bit more, and I was totally able to do it! I was fearing the entire time hitting that point that other women had hit where they could not hold back pushing anymore. I knew if I could control my pushes at the right time, I would tear down there less, and, man, was I hoping to be good at it!
The nurses were telling me during the whole pushing process that they were surprised it was my first time pushing because I was doing so well. Of course Brandon started his "is there something you haven't told me" joke series, which had the nurses laughing so hard.
Anyways, then it happened, after only 30 minutes of pushing, at 11:05pm, Asher Edward was born!!! My first comment was that he looked so pissed! Then he cried and I think Brandon was just overwhelmed with happiness at that point (because, of course, he wasn't looking, the cry was the first thing that Brandon perceived as knowing his child was a-ok). The one nurse was taking pictures (so there are some pictures that Brandon won't look at), and he got weighed. 8 pounds, 6 ounces! (so the ultrasound tech was more accurate than the perinatologist) They let me see him, then they cleaned him up some, put him on my chest, and the L&D nurse helped me get him latched. He breastfed like a champ. That is when my family came in to see him and me (which I was ok with. It was so late, he'd be there on me for a while, and after that they would take him to the nursery). Both my grandmothers were there, my dad, my aunt and uncle (my 2nd parents), and of course my mom and Brandon's mom. It was a really happy time. And, finally, everyone knows his name!
While he was feeding, they asked me if I wanted more pain medicine before they removed the epidural. The doc did do some stitches, but he said it was more of a "disruption" rather than a "tear." He likened it to scraping your knee...but not really. Don't ask me. He said I'd be happier, long run, with the stitches than if he opted not to do the stitches. Whatever, I don't care. I didn't really feel it, and was happy it was nothing bad at all.
After that, they wrapped Asher up, gave him to Brandon, cleaned me up some, and got me ready to go to my room. We took Asher to the nursery, and went to our room...where the marathon sleeplessness at the hospital began!
No comments:
Post a Comment