Birth Story …46 hrs later!

Well, here it goes…

It’s not as amazing as many, in my opinion. However, it’s mine and I want to share it, finally.

I was due on October 7th. I thought it would be amazingly funny if I could hold out for a few days and have her born on 10/10/10. Nerdy, geeky binary birthday and all that. And so we giggled. Every time anyone asked when I was due, I’d say “Officially the 7th, but aiming for the 10th”.

A rare belly picture taken on due date, 4 days before baby arrival

My very uneventful pregnancy witnessed me first losing over 10 pounds in the first trimester, then putting on 40 pounds for a total gain of 30-ish all around. I lost all that weight in the first 6 weeks postpartum due to a combination of PPD and my failed breastfeeding attempt. So I ended up back at the weight I started out at before I got pregnant. Not too bad in my opinion. Once Spring/Summer finally comes and I can get out with baby and walk, I’ll lose more

By the time my due date rolled around, I was just about as ready as one can get to have a baby. I was pretty uncomfortable, and had an awesome waddle going on. I was feeling all the pressure of baby head in my pelvis and that makes moving very interesting.

The day of my 40 week appointment October 7th, my OBGYN fell and broke his arm (shoulder or collar bone or something, I was never sure) and I got a phone call saying that my appointment had to be cancelled and could I come in a different day. No problem! She made me a new appointment for Monday and all was well.

She called me back about an hour later to switch my appointment to Friday realizing that she set my appointment for well after my due date. I laughed, again no problem. It’s not like I have anything to do after all. I’m just waiting for baby to come. And cleaning. Lots of housecleaning.

The next day, I attended my appointment eager to hear how things were going to go. The doctor had already suggested stripping my membranes on my 40th week appointment at my 39 week appointment, and possible induction by 41 weeks.

Having researched and read books and hoping greatly for a natural birth, I was worried about having to get an induction, so I hoped fiercely that I would go into labour on my own. The stand in doctor was very pleasant and reviewed my pregnancy.

Upon taking my blood pressure, it was slightly high. She never really explained to me what it was that was slightly high about it, but to her it was just enough that she wanted me to go for blood work. Then I mentioned how my doctor had suggested stripping my membranes and what that really meant. She explained why he’d suggested it and then offered to check me to see if it was something we could do.

Now, here’s where I say that she was so very nice, but a doctor with small hands and short fingers makes for an ouchie internal exam. *wince*

She informed me that while I was really very effaced and that was good, I was not dilated at all, and therefore was unable to strip my membranes. It’s funny, as I don’t recall feeling any Braxton Hicks contractions for the longest time, and that likely was the why behind the lack of dilation. At least that’s my opinion. I’m not an expert or anything. Lazy uterus.

I was a bit disappointed and hoped that didn’t mean that I would go drastically overdue and head for induction town. I left with a smile and a hopeful attitude that the massage I had booked for the afternoon would set me up for starting labour.

But I had to detour of course, and get the blood work done. And it’s funny because it would turn out to be useless to get it done at all.

I’d been going to the same massage therapist for more than 2 years, and so my last massage-while-pregnant was something I’d been looking forward to for months. She has a strong record for putting overdue women into labour and I was hoping it would do the same for me.

Also, getting a massage while pregnant is fantastic.

I left the massage appointment feeling relaxed and confidant and walked home, hoping that the walking would also help. For the last month, I’d been so uncomfortable that getting to sleep anytime before 4am was virtually impossible. So I got myself comfortable and read my book and played solitaire on my phone until I got sleepy enough to go to bed.

Saturday morning (October 9th) I woke up checked email and played some more solitaire on my phone, and then went back to sleep until around 1:30. Finally, I had to get up to go to the washroom as is typical in the life of a pregnant woman.

That’s when I discovered show. I was pleasantly surprised! This meant for sure I would be in labour and hopefully soon. As I stood up, I felt the first of the contractions which was just a very mild cramping. So, much sooner than I thought. I told the man and then spent the rest of the day getting ready and doing all the final prep. I spent the whole day feeling the contractions steadily increase from “minor” to “not so minor anymore”.

By 1:30 in the morning, the cramps were very much contractions, but they weren’t unmanageable. I tried to sleep. That was a total joke. I was so uncomfortable and cramping on such a regular basis that sleep was just elusive. I tried showering and also a hot bath to try and get comfortable enough to sleep. No go. I was up the whole night just being really uncomfortable. I timed them off and on and they fluctuated through out the night but were mostly around every 3-5 minutes for 60-90 seconds. By the time 8 am rolled around, I called the L&D triage desk to ask them what they thought I should do. Through out the night, I continued to have show, and wasn’t sure if that was normal or not, but they didn’t seem concerned. They told me to come in and I finally got to the hospital at 9 am with the help of a friend. Trying to be comfortable while sitting up and road bumps = crappy combo.

They got us set up in the monitoring area and examined me. Alas, I was only at 1 cm, but was now almost completely effaced. I was contracting and very much in early labour. Success! The massage had worked like a charm.

They were concerned with the blood pressure issue that had been reported on Friday. The blood work hadn’t been completed yet, so they had to do it all over again, because my numbers were still up a little during the initial monitoring. Could have been the very beginning of preeclampsia but I’ll never know because it didn’t seem to come up again during the rest of my stay.

So, we started walking around the hospital. And walking and walking and walking. Up and down stairs and around and around. And it was getting very difficult to do. At points I had to sit and breathe and it was very hard to stay focused and stay breathing. I really just wanted to hold my breath so much during the contractions. Not good. The man really helped remind me to keep moving and keep breathing.

I didn’t think it would be quite like this. It was pretty intense, but all I really wanted was to get into one of the rooms and use their showers and birth balls. That never happened. Only a few people get to get those rooms, and I wasn’t one of them. I was rather disappointed with this as I hadn’t brought my birth ball from home unfortunately.

At any rate, after all the walking it was about 1:30 and I got back to the monitoring area and they checked me. I had progressed to 3 cm! Yay! They could also tell that for me, I was already having difficulty talking and breathing through the contractions. That meant they weren’t going to turn me away. I was so grateful I didn’t have to go back home.

They let me go back downstairs and have some lunch before admitting me which was very nice because it was the last thing I got to eat for awhile. They were specific though, nothing heavy in case I were to get sick later. Makes sense to me. Also, being in that kind of pain one doesn’t really want to eat too much anyway.

Once I was finally admitted and assigned a room, it was close to 3pm. We walked down to the room with all the stuff I’d brought for a natural labour. Which turned out to be useless as I didn’t get a room for it, and as well as it turned out, natural labour wasn’t to be my path.

They set me up and asked me how I was feeling and what I’d like to do. It was clear from the time I’d been in the hospital already that an epidural would be ideal and could I please have one now, thanks. I knew going in that I was hoping for the best, but I wasn’t going to be unrealistic and not allow for other things to occur. I knew that if I felt I needed one, an epidural would be okay.

They laughed, and called the anesthesiologist and set me up with an IV of fluids to ensure I wouldn’t get dehydrated. He showed up and explained it procedure in brief, I’d heard it at the hospital tour we’d attended previously so I didn’t feel too unprepared at least. He was very nice.

They had it in me by 3:30-ish. Very quick and no problems or complications. And it didn’t really hurt to get done at all. I was very grateful. I hadn’t slept in 26 hours so it let me sleep and that was so good. I dozed off and on and tried to stay hydrated, but drinking anything wasn’t really interesting to me. They kept me getting up to go to the washroom, which was good. It kept me moving some, but as time wore on it was getting harder and harder to feel my feet and move my legs.

So, because I had an epidural, they also had to give me Syntocinon (aka Pitocin) to ensure that my labour wouldn’t stall. So now I’ve got three things going into me and a blood pressure cuff that just wouldn’t quit (and boy did that hurt!) It pinched me every time it went off, and I got awesome bruises on my arm and inner elbow from it. As the afternoon went by, I was checked by the doctor, and they discovered that my baby hadn’t turned correctly. The doctor stated that the baby was most definitely OP (meaning Occipitoposterior) meaning “sunny-side up”, meaning not facing in the correct direction to correctly affect the dilation process. And wow, okay so that explains why I was in so much discomfort at only 3 cm. Back labour is SO not your friend.

And then came the slowest progression I think I’ve ever heard of. Really. Slow. By 8:30 they broke my water, hoping that would move things along faster, but no. Luckily it was clear and that made me so happy. Progress remained painfully slow. As the hours ticked by, my 10/10/10 baby slipped away and it passed midnight.

I tried to get some sleep, but it wasn’t easy. I dozed off and on and then the pressure returned, greater than before. The epidural wasn’t working as well as it had been. So they offered to top me up. And that meant I could no longer walk on my own and that meant a catheter. Which was interesting, but I couldn’t feel it so it didn’t really matter. They had to top me up a second time once they refreshed my epidural, but the intensity of the pressure never went away after that. It felt like one long contraction for hours on end. Which ended up with me getting a second pain killer option, and the gas on top of it. So I was still feeling all the pain and pressure, but was so loopy on gas I didn’t really care. It was the weirdest experience ever.

By the time the morning rolled around and the pressure was getting pretty intense, my temperature started to rise and they feared an infection so they gave me an drip antibiotic and a couple of tylenol. I’ve never felt so wired up until then, and likely never will again. But the whole time I had very compassionate care and such wonderful women helping me through the process. At one point the had to put the internal monitor on the baby but again, it went well.

The sun started to brighten the room again and I was so tired. And the pressure was getting super intense. They had found me to be at 9 cm several hours earlier, and stalled. And it took so long for me to get to 10 all while trying not to push when I rather wanted to. Then I found that I wanted to push badly and they checked me again and I was finally at 10. It took a long time to get there.

And so I was set up with the new nurse holding one leg and the man holding the other and I was instructed on how to push and started to do so. And if that wasn’t the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do, I don’t know what is.

And hours passed. And I just felt defeated. There was no progress because she wasn’t facing correctly and I couldn’t get her to move further no matter how hard I tried. The doctor came in, a different one, and she was super friendly.

It was around 10 am at this point and I was so beat, and had already said (cried really) I would love some help to get this baby out. And she checked me and suggested that we get a bit of help for me in the form of forceps. And I was so grateful that the smile I had spoke volumes. The nurses had already laughed with me as a result of me maintaining my use of please and thank you through the labour process so this look of relief and happiness was slotted into the same category of appreciation. (One nurse said a lot of women aren’t as friendly unfortunately.)

So, now, I had to wait for them to prep the OR room in order for us to go to the sterile environment and use the forceps equipment. So now, I had to stop pushing and wait. And boy did that ever suck.

Sometimes I had to push to relieve the pressure/pain I was having, but I still had to wait, and pushing wasn’t really helping anything anyway. By 10:30 am they finally wheeled the bed I was on down to the OR room. Thank goodness. They transferred me onto the skinny little OR table and started setting me up.

As I’d already had an epidural, it was very easy for them to administer the medication required in order to totally numb my lower body. And numb it was, I felt absolutely nothing from the mid chest down. Weirdest feeling of my life.

They got everything ready to go quickly and then let the man into the room to sit with me. The applied the first set of forceps and instructed me to help by pushing with the tools to move her down and out.

No go. (According to the man: These ones were carefully put on the table.)

The second set of forceps were applied, and they attempted to turn her, first left then right. No go. (According to the man: These were tossed over the doctor’s shoulder.)

The third set of forceps were applied and they attempted again to turn her, left then right. No go. (According to the man: These were simply tossed to the floor.)

(I have zero recollection of anything to do with the forceps when they weren’t trying to turn/pull the baby with them.)

Three different sets of forceps of different size, shapes and for different purposes failed to turn my daughter to the proper direction, or get her out.

And then our heart rates both plummeted. I don’t remember much of this at all, but as soon as that happened, the doctor said that c-section was what had to happen and it had to happen now. (And apparently pushed my daughter back up into me. Thank goodness I was numb.)

The whirlwind that happened when they announced we needed a c-section was impressive. They whipped up the screen, kicked out the man and moved like a well oiled machine. It was hardly any time before they said he could come back in, and then announced we had a girl! Whew! 11:35 in the morning. A full hour after starting to set me up for the forceps and 46 hours after the beginning of my labour on Saturday afternoon.

It was all so fast, and I was so grateful. Somehow during the procedure her umbilical cord got torn and she had to get taken to the NICU in order to ensure she was okay. The man went with her while they started to work on closing me back up.

Luckily, I had the presence of mind to ask if they could re-tie my tubes while they were in there. And they discovered that the original clips from my tubal ligation were still in place. Miracle indeed.

I shook so hard from the shock during the closing up, that I was glad I was frozen so I didn’t shake off the table. My teeth chattered away, and I finally accepted something that would hopefully help me stop shaking. Eventually it did and they were finished and I was taken to recovery.

And then my baby came to me there, and it was so amazing. She had the craziest bruises on her forehead and back. The forehead for being stuck for so long and the back from the forceps. I was just so glad she was healthy.

I am so grateful for all the wonderful treatment I got while at the hospital and everything that happened while there. It wasn’t exactly the way I wanted it to go, but it ended up with my healthy baby delivered to me, and that’s the best way it could go.

Oh, and when the whole body freezing wore off… just weird. Think the feeling you get at the dentist, but all over. LOL! Just had to share, it was funny to me anyway.

And that’s my birth story.

Amanda
eastpath.net
wovencreations.com

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