So yes...life sometimes gets in the way and while in real time I enjoyed celebrating my son's birthday...I wasn't able to keep up in blog time. :) So here's the end of the birthing story:
The first moments of August 4th, 2007 involved a nurse running into my labor room, throwing on the lights and shaking me. I had been dozing between contractions since they had started the pitocin around 10pm on Friday, and about two minutes after midnight, this nurse was frantically trying to make me coherent enough to understand she needed me to immediately roll onto my left side. Ultimately she yelled at me that if I didn't wake up and roll over my baby was going to die. That got through loud and clear and I immediately rolled over. She readjusted the fetal monitor, stopped the pitocin and watched the ticker tape the monitor was busily spitting out. She breathed a sigh of relief and told my husband and I that the baby's heart rate had dropped to under 100 but was coming back up. She went to place a call to my OB and then returned saying she was going to restart the pitocin. She offered several reasons the heart rate could have dropped including a reaction to the pitocin, the baby laying on his umbilical cord, etc. Both Craig and I were understandably concerned but the nurse assured us that she was watching my monitor at the nurses station and was on top of things.
Once the nurse had rearranged the monitor again, and restarted the pitocin, she left Craig and I to try to get some rest. I continued to doze a bit, although the contractions were definitely getting stronger. Craig continued to watch things on the laptop when not obsessing over the fetal monitor ticker tape. He kept seeing dips in the heart rate every time I contracted. The heart rate would climb back up between contractions, so the nurses weren't worried, but Craig was quickly starting to believe that the entire delivery was getting risky for "Turtle."
At 4am, we had a repeat performance of a nurse rushing in to stare at the monitor, rearrange me and even put me on oxygen. She stopped the pitocin. I was contracting continually, every 2-3 minutes, even without the pitocin.
Sometime between 6-7am the nurse restarted my pitocin after calling the doctor. My doctor stopped by the hospital around 10 and broke my water. I knew at that point I was on the clock with only 24 hours to deliver naturally once my water had been broken.
At this point, the contractions were very strong and I was not permitted to move around the room or even my bed because of the continued heart rate issues. The nurses had asked me early on about my preferences and I told them I hoped to deliver naturally. They told me when my water was broken that if I decided to have an epidural I needed to only ask and they didn't push the issue any further. Around 1pm I asked the nurse what it would take to get the epi and she said she would call the anesthesiologist. He was in my room within 15 minutes and ready to give me an epi. At this point I had been in active labor for almost 16 hours and was exhausted and in constant pain due to the pitocin. The doctor was great and I hardly felt the epidural at all. I was very worried about the possibility of a spinal headache because I've long suffered with migraines and of all the pain possible, I fear headache pain the most. However, with the nurse and Craig holding my hands, a deep breath and the epi was done. I felt a small, almost electrical pulse upon insertion and nothing else. It was a huge relief.
I continued to labor for several more hours, making slow progress dilating. I don't think I ever got past a 6. A few minutes before 5, the nurse and doctor both rushed into the room to again stop the pitocin and check my monitor. Turtle's heart rate had dropped below 30 and was not coming back up as it had each time previously. My doctor told me very simply, 3 strikes and I was out. I verified that she intended to do a lower transverse incision after she stated bluntly "this means any future children you have will also be born by c section." I told her it was important for me to retain my ability to have a VBAC later on if I had a second child. She seemed surprised I even knew what kind of incision to ask for and was very patronizing.
It was now imperative that we get Turtle out given the non rebounding heart rate. I had time to remove my rings. The nurse didn't even stop to shave or prep me. They threw a head cap on me and wheeled me into the OR. I remember being tearful and telling Craig I was scared but that I wanted our son to be healthy and safe at any cost.
In the OR they tried to move me from my labor bed to a surgical bed. My doctor asked if I could help with this move and I told her I could not feel me legs due to the epi. The nurses and doctor lifted the upper 2/3rds of my body onto the surgical bed and my feet remained on the labor bed. It was almost comical and I remember the doctor remarking "you weren't kidding, you really can't lift your feet." I began to feel nauseous and told the anesthesiologist that I thought I might throw up. He quickly gave me IV Zofran through my epi. (As awful as this ordeal mostly was, the anesthesiologist was the kindest person I dealt with and he sat by my head throughout the entire surgery, making adjustments as needed to my medication.) As the nurses were draping me, the doctor went through hospital protocol to prevent mistakes...namely she asked me my full name and asked why I was there. I told her I was going to have a baby. She snickered and asked if I could tell her HOW I was going to have the baby and I told her by c-section. They then allowed Craig into the room. He had gowned and gloved in standard OR garb while they were setting up my surgery.
I remember clearly, closing my eyes and just praying. Craig asked me several times if I was ok and I would nod and tell him I was praying. I just kept asking God to "let him be ok."
And then, at 5:16pm he was out.
5 pounds, 10 oz and 18.5 inches long.
I could hear him cry. Craig immediately went to look at him and they allowed Craig to make the second cut in the umbilical cord. Craig motioned to me that Grant had two fused toes on each foot. I asked if he was ok and he assured me that he was.
They wiped Grant off a bit, bundled him up and then brought him to me. I was still strapped onto OR table and remember being afraid that Grant would roll off of me and fall on the floor. The poor little guy, after being prematurely evicted from my womb into a faceful of strangers, had been screaming and crying...until they laid him on my chest. He opened the most beautiful steel blue eyes, looked directly at me, and immediately stopped crying. It was, and continues to be, the most profound moment of my life. All I could say was "Hi peanut, mommy loves you."
After a few brief moments, the nurses picked him back up and said he needed to go to the nursery for monitoring due to the heart issues. They also intended to give him a little oxygen, although his APGAR scores were great. Craig asked me if I still wanted him to stay with Grant and I adamantly said he should go with Grant. I should note that I feel badly for Craig about all this. Both of his children have been born in awful births where the mothers had to be brutally sliced open. I had so desperately wanted him to see a birth the way God had designed it. I also feel awful that in both births he had to choose between staying with his wife or going with his child. We had discussed this early in the pregnancy and both agreed that no matter what, one of us had to be with the baby at all times and never leave him with strangers. So there was no question, while laying in the OR, whether Craig should stay with me or go with Grant, but I know he was torn nonetheless. I remember the anesthesiologist asking me if I was ok that my husband had left, as though Craig had done something wrong, and I quickly assured him that this was part of our plan. I would have been a mess if Craig had stayed with me and our precious son had been at the mercy of strangers after his struggle into this world.
So, after Craig left with Grant, while they counted instruments to make sure nothing was 'left behind' inside of me, and stapled and sewed me up, I simply continued to pray. I remember mumbling over and over, "Thank you God for letting him be ok, Thank you God for getting me through this." The anesthesiologist asked me if I was ok and all I could do was cry and tell him I was just thanking God for getting us through this.
They wheeled me into a recovery room where I shook and cried. The shaking was part of the epidural side effects and was completely uncontrollable. I was not cold, although the nurse kept piling blankets on me. I simply had no muscle control. The tears were relief. The nurse kept asking me if I was ok and I just kept telling her I was relieved it was over and that Grant was ok. I had been so scared. I kept trying to get myself under control but it simply wasn't possible.
After an hour in recover, with Grant in the nursery, Craig and Grant joined me in the recovery room. I was finally able to hold my son for real and I was able to start our journey into breastfeeding. Neither of us had any clue as to what we were doing, but we were learning together and we were together and that was all that mattered. At this point we called Dillon to tell him his baby brother had been born and that our little family of 3, was now a family of 4.
I could go on about our hospital stay (4 additional days) and the mostly negative experience that that was, but I think I'd rather wrap things up here.
No, I will add one more thing. In the days that followed, I refused most of my pain meds due to breastfeeding, found myself having difficulty doing basic tasks for myself, and having to fight to start a successful breastfeeding relationship with my son. It was all so very overwhelming and I was trying to do it after being almost sawed in half. I wasn't having issues with post partum depression, but I certainly had an appropriate, sad, response to the entire situation. At one point, Craig called his ex-wife to give her an update and find out about Dillon's camping trip. She asked to speak to me directly when Craig mentioned that the breastfeeding was difficult for me and I was having a bit of a struggle. Susan has had 3 children, all by c-section.
She first congratulated me and asked how I was doing. I told her, in brief terms, that I was disappointed in the c section and was trying hard not to lose out on breastfeeding, the last "natural" portion of my original plan. She told me that I needed to give myself permission to grieve the loss of a natural child birth and to expect that people around me wouldn't understand. She empathized that of course the most important thing was a healthy baby, but to not be hard on myself and allow myself the natural feelings of loss that go with losing out on a vaginal birth. I suppose this might not make sense to someone who hasn't walked in these shoes, but for me it was words sent by God, through her. I needed permission to feel sad over how this had all turned out. I felt guilty being anything but ecstatic to have a healthy baby...how selfish I must be for wanting the birth to be different. No. Wanting a natural birth and wanting my body to function the way it had been designed to do was not selfish. Being sad to have lost that was normal and I will forever be grateful to Susan for normalizing that for me.
