So far, it has taken me about 45 minutes to write just this first sentence. As me and my boy got situated and he looked like he was ready to sleep, complete with yawns and slow motion, he pulled his little bitty hand up to his mouth and began sucking on his sleeve. Hungry boy! He hasn't eaten all day, and that's been his choice. Now, in the past hour or so, he's taken three- count them- three meals. Oh, and I might mention that I found out over the course of his feedings today that my assumptions about him were one hundred percent accurate- my little piggie gets the hiccups after a nice filling meal. Four times so far today, and the night is still young!
This is going to be a long blog, so, if you don't feel like reading it all at once, feel free to come back; I'll probably do that several times while writing it. Right now, my cute little man is sleeping, but that could change any moment. We're still dealing with some mucus buildup and he'll pop right awake for us to take care of that. It was scary at first, but luckily I'm learning what's going on, and when.
Saturday night, I was looking forward to sleeping well. We'd had quite a day Friday and Saturday was also very busy for us. Daddy went to work and I laid down with Cotton and my little Dominic, hiccuping in my tummy. We enjoyed a cookie and some milk before bedtime. As we laid there in the dark and I felt him fidgeting and being just as cute as he always is, I said aloud to him, "Dominic, please at least let me meet you just sometime this weekend. Tomorrow; Monday, it doesn't matter. I'm just ready to see your little face. Good night, baby." And with that, I rolled over and we turned in for the evening. As usual, I got up every hour and a half or so to use the restroom, and happily went back to sleep with ease. At about 5, I hopped out of bed and made my trip, and then headed back to bed. I fell asleep and woke up shortly thereafter at 0520 with just as strong an urge to use the restroom as I had at five; only this time, it was accompanied by a strong THUD. Ouch, Dominic! Stop doing that, I thought to myself. So, I got up and sure enough, it was the same. I dried off and headed back to bed. As I'm heading back to bed, I felt a small drop hit my leg. EW! Ugh, I know I am old enough to take care of this. So I headed back to apparently fix my mistake.
But, oh, 'twas no mistake that I'd made. As I sat back down, I found that I was using the restroom but had zero sensation that I was actually "making potty." Certainly this wasn't.... noooo. So, I checked and nearly leaped out of my skin! I hurried to the bedside, grabbed my phone, RAN back to the john and called Rey at work. "MY WATER BROKE!!!!" I exclaimed to my tired and working husband. "Wait, what?" was his response in a much less excited, far more confused tone than my own. "MY WATER BROKE!!" I repeated to him. In his already groggy state, he couldn't seem to understand why I thought my water had broken, but asked me several questions until he was certain I'd said what he thought I'd said. We hung up the phone and I called the doctor and she said that we should head to the hospital very soon and get this show on the road, as we had about 24 hours before the risk of infection really got high. Alright! This is it!
The only thing was, I wasn't having any contractions at all. Sure, my water had broken and that's all fine and dandy, but where on earth were the contractions? I started packing the bags that I didn't expect to need for a couple more weeks as my husband called his boss and left work to come and get me. We got everything together and I put on my sweatpants and a large, folded up towel and we headed to the hospital. We got a good laugh in because with the way the towel was, it really looked like I had a huge badonkadonk, and a front side that a woman isn't supposed to have. We were cracking up on the way inside, and got admitted into our room and got cozy. I started having mild contractions around 0730 and off we went!
I started off the morning dilated at 1cm. My contractions were about 5-7 minutes apart, but they weren't super strong; I could breathe and talk through them and distract myself with the TV. My doctor called and told the nurse to start me on pitocin to get the contractions going since we were crunched for time. We opted to wait until 10am to start that in order to give my body a chance to get up to speed. Well, it didn't cooperate so we started it and my good GOD! In a matter of 30 minutes, my contractions had grown unbearably strong. After being told by the nurse that my progress wasn't great (two cm in a total of 7 hours at noon), she advised and my doctor advised that an epidural was the way to go. I told her I was still on the fence about epidurals, but wasn't too hard to convince once I was informed that we were likely looking at 12 more hours of labor before we'd be ready to deliver, if we were lucky. Twelve more hours? Heck no. So, I hesitantly, and not without many, many tears, agreed to an epidural. I'm glad I did, though; I was able to sleep so much better, and, with a catheter, was able to actually sleep!
My aunt had called some time earlier, and my husband informed her we were at 3cm. She wasn't supposed to come until the evening, but the amazing person she is dropped everything and came up to the hospital to be with us since she was due to come at 4cm a little later in the day. So noontime brought us from two cm to three, and then the nurse came and turned it up a notch- that evil pitocin machine. Well, as it turned out the baby did not appreciate it either, as his poor little heart rate dropped down into the 60s, and remained there about six minutes. The nurse didn't tell us what was happening at first, the doctor came in, and then another nurse. They were rolling me side to side, and I recognized this from the other night; something was wrong with my son. Once they got him semi-stabilized, the discussion on a c-section was brought up because he had responded negatively for so long, AND, my doctor brought up, because his heart rate had dropped just two days prior into the 40s. She explained the risks of having an emergency section versus a planned one.
Here was our thinking. My husband was averse to having pitocin from the very beginning but, because of the short time frame we had and because my body wasn't progressing on its own, we had to make the call to go ahead and do it. He was also averse to jumping to a c-section as a solution rather than a necessity, but had to make a serious decision here. Since the baby's reaction was to the increase in pitocin, he was totally against turning it back on. And the doctor advised that since the baby did not recover in any timely fashion from his dip, because my body was not doing much on its own, and that because my body wasn't doing much pitocin was the only thing that would get us going, that she believed we'd end up in an emergency c-section by the end of the day (around midnight). She, however, emphasized that she was willing to continue laboring with us if that is what we chose to do, and that she wasn't pushing one thing or another, which is really what he needed to hear.
So all of this took place around 1230 or so, and the doctor said to give it a few more hours. If my body did well without pitocin, we'd keep going; if not, then we'd need to further advise her on what we were going to do. Well, unfortunately by around 3:30, they'd checked my cervix twice more, and twice more I was at 3cm. My contractions remained 5-8 minutes apart, and sometimes were 9-13 minutes apart. We were not doing well on our own, and the doctor asked if we'd like to turn the pitocin back on to continue trying for natural labor. By this time, since 5am, I'd dilated a massive two more cm; that's two cm in about 10 and a half hours, where the average dilation time is around 1cm every hour to two hours. We were once again asking the doctor for the risks and options, and she explained the facts again, and gave us her opinion. I wanted my husband to be happy with the way things went, and I left the decision up to him; this was our son, not mine, and I trust what his daddy decides. And his daddy decided that, since he didn't want pitocin, and since the baby was at risk, and since emergency c-section would put mommy AND baby at risk, we should go ahead and schedule the c-section.
Things were pretty fast-moving from there. Doctors, nurses and assistants were in and out, I think, constantly, and it felt like a busy street to me for a while. Daddy got his outfit on, I got a hairnet, and they gave me more medicine to numb my abdomen in preparation for the section.
The doctor unlocked the wheels to the bed and off we went. As soon as he said, "Here we go!" I think I had a breakdown. That was a very pivotal moment for me, and so many things were running through my mind. One- I was going to be a mom in a matter of 30 minutes. Two- I couldn't feel my legs. Three- They were about to slice me open. Four- How were they not going to cut the baby? Five- I couldn't feel my legs!!! I immediately broke down into tears and was crying pretty uncontrollably, and my aunt called out from behind that she loved me and that made me cry even harder. Arriving in the OR was terrible because I wasn't watching TV anymore; that was ME under those lights. That was ME with that curtain in front of me. That was ME! And ten different people working on me to make sure I was ready and clean and sterile and they were holding their hands in the air because they were sterile and they were counting tools and knives and they were seeing where they'd cut me and the baby station was behind me and there was a girl to my left and right and people at my feet and the anesthesiologist at my head and and and! That sentence is meant to be very stressful to read- it was stressful to type.
I was very grateful for my anesthesiologist, though. Out of everyone who tried to provide me comfort in that room, he was the only one who could. His voice behind me was the only one that could make my crying cease, even if only for a moment. My husband came in and sat next to me, and that only made me cry more; but that one was out of love and relief more than anything.
Before I knew it, they were telling me I'd feel pressure and started to lift the baby out of my incision. I felt every inch of his body leave from my upper torso and travel out through the incision, but it was totally painless. I heard his newborn cry and immediately, my tears stopped and I was normal again. My child had just been born, and he had a healthy cry. His daddy's reaction was amazing, and because they didn't bring him right to me, he took picture and video after picture and video and was traveling back and forth to share my son with me. What a beautiful little boy! They announced his weight at 6.3 pounds and his length at 18.5 inches, and I could only think, "What a tiny little baby!" I was very excited to meet my son. The doctor provided a compliment to me that went something like this: "WOW, girl! You have zero fat down here. And your muscles are amazing! Did you work out your entire pregnancy!" That made me smile and gave me great hope that I would not have to work super hard to get my body back; how do you have to work for fat that isn't there?! WOOHOO!!!
Another thing the doctor added as she was taking my baby out of his cozy womb was that we'd have ended up in a c-section afterall was said and done, anyway, and that we'd made the right decision early on. Why did she say that? Well, what we thought was a kidney issue we now believe to have been back labor, because my little man was sunny side up on my left hip, facing my doctor toward the right. It would have been a hard natural labor just to end up in a c-section, 'I tell you what'! (For those of you who enjoy King of the Hill, you'll get it.)
After my recovery and Dominic's bath, they finally united the two of us in my room. I still couldn't feel or move my legs, which meant that I had no pain, which meant that I could fully enjoy my son without hurting my belly. And there we lay, me and my baby boy, getting to know each other for the very first time. What a day, what a day.
No comments:
Post a Comment