Active Labor

We arrived at the hospital around 11pm on Monday the 21st. And this is where everything gets a little more blurry. They admitted me, which was good because I was still afraid they'd check me out and send me home to wait some more. I settled in and they hooked up the fetal monitor (which was wouldn't stay in place with my coughing and stuff- I felt like the nurses were coming in every few minutes to readjust it). I tried to rest. Eventually the things they warned me about in child birth class actually started happening just as they said it often did.

They call it the cascade of medical intervention. I was given pitocin to help get the contractions a little stronger and closer together. I was offered an epidural and I said yes with giving it approximately 2 seconds of thought. I was willing to do anything to get my back to stop hurting, and I knew there was no way I'd be able to even try to push without it. To be fair I'd given it thought before this moment. I didn't have a set birth plan, and I was taking everything about pregnancy and child rearing the same way, thinking I'd just try it. Natural birth? Sure, ok. Circumstances changed- I was in pain before I began- so pain management? Sure, ok. (Later I'd do the same with breastfeeding? Sure, ok I'd try it.)

I was given a catheter because with the epidural I'd not be getting out of bed any time soon to pee. I tried to pee one last time in the toilet because boy howdy, it felt like I had to go. (some of this is slightly out of order, I'm fairly sure I tried to pee before I was given the epidural... etc etc) Nothing came. Nothing. I'd had a catheter once before when I'd had surgery at a much younger age, and I just remember being completely miserable with it so I was NOT looking forward to it. But they placed it and it was like MAGIC. I didn't feel it thanks to the epidural and within minutes I'd filled the bag with the darkest yellow urine ever. I KNEW I had to go, I guess the baby was just leaning on something and stopping me- or something. I never got an explanation about that, but I was just so happy to finally have an empty bladder!

I was finally able to sleep! I got a few hours of unbroken sleep. It was wonderful. Tuesday morning came. I updated the internets about being in labor. I got a visitor- my boss who happened to be a pediatrician (Gibson's dr as well) who was rounding at the hospital that morning. She is wonderful and the only person to visit me at this stage. And I waited.

My OB eventually said she was going to break the sac (breaking my water) and that should get things going more. She checked and apparently there was none to break. I must have been wandering around with it broken for a while. I have NO IDEA how long. I had had my super-duper-old-lady weekly sonogram (oh yeah if you're 35 or over they make you go get sonograms weekly during the last month or so due to 'advanced maternal age'!) and apparently my amniotic fluid was a little low, but nothing to be concerned about - it was a normal level for that stage of the pregnancy, but everything was there and in tact on Thursday. So since I didn't know how long I'd been wandering about possibly exposing the baby to bacteria through the ruptured amniotic sac they put me on a course of IV antibiotics.

I hadn't imagined the nurses difficulty with the fetal monitor and it's awesome elastic belt. I had an internal fetal monitor placed. It was very uncomfortable. Even with my lower bits and bobs numbed. What is internal monitoring? A website describes it as involving 'placement of a small plastic device about the size of a pencil eraser through the cervix. A spiral wire called the fetal scalp electrode is placed just beneath the skin of the baby's scalp'. Sounds like a good time, right?

By 2 o'clock I was 9 cms dialated. By about 3 I was good to go. And I pushed. And pushed. And vomited all over. And I pushed some more. Todd could see the monitor wires slide out with every push. And then they'd slide back in between each contraction. For hours. They tried to get me into a different position, but I couldn't stand laying on my side (even with the epidural). A little after 5 the doctor announced that Gibson wasn't making any significant movements. I was no closer to having him out and the doctor recommended a C section. She gave me a reason I can't totally recall. The baby was in a bad position- He was twisted or turned, and she said I could push and push and it'd not make a difference. Or something very much like that.

They wheeled me into the OR and began prepping me for the C a little after 5. Things got even MORE blurry in there. I was told it wouldn't take long, maybe a half hour? Gibson was born at 5:41 pm. But when removing him my uterus tore. And I lost a lot of blood. And I vomited, again, multiple times, straight into that sheet they put up so I can't see them cutting into me- and to do exactly as it did- and stop that vomit from ending up in my open incision. However even with an empty stomach somehow I projectile vomited what seemed like a lot straight into the sheet back onto myself. The surgical response team was called in for blood transfusion, but for whatever reason I got even more IV saline instead. I got 5 liters during the procedure. I'd had 5 liters earlier in the day. Todd held our perfect baby and silently worried while they fixed the tear and sewed me up.

I was wheeled into recovery sometime after 6. And I stayed there for hours. I was exhausted and and relieved. Gibson slept on my chest as I lay there and Todd sat next to me. I will love Todd forever for not once leaving my side. And I really wanted the vomit out of my hair, more than I wanted almost anything else I could remember. It's kind of funny the things you think about. Another wonderful thing about my lovely husband was he got me a private room. I was wheeled into the room after 11. The nurse and whatever they call orderlies these days hefted me into my bed where I promptly threw up again. So they moved me back into the gurney and cleaned up and put me back into the refreshed bed. But they tore the epidural out of the catheter in my back. At least the entire damned thing wasn't ripped out. So they sent for the anesthesiologist on duty. I asked him in my exhausted and now delirious state about my pain management options and was placed on a morphine drip. Hooo-boy! It was like the good old days of college all over again (ha ha?).

And just when I was ready for a good night's sleep I got to have my first night of motherhood. Gibson was roomed in with me (and Todd who never left) and I got to try breast feeding. The rest of the stay in the hospital was pretty much similar to what I suspect most new moms experience. Beeps from machines, nurses coming in to ask after your well being and the baby's diaper contents and all of that. I got to shower the next day (Wednesday? or was it the day after that I finally got myself clean?)- and eat. And it was wonderful (since I hadn't showered or eaten since Monday). I suffered more edema, those 10 liters of saline on top of the rest of my swelling... My legs were so swollen I could hardly bend my knees and ankles, even days later. But Gibson and I were discharged on Sunday morning. The swelling went down eventually, and I healed very well from the C-section. And I'd like to also mention that I have one of the best friends in the whole world- who went to my apartment (even though she lived an hour and a half away) after visiting in the hospital and managed to get all of the baby linens and clothing washed for me (which entailed sitting in a laundromat in 90 degree heat)! So while I wasn't really ready for the baby, I was as ready as one can get.

I'm exhausted just recounting this ridiculous and personal story.
Maybe I can let it go now.

**
I'd like to take just a moment now to say that I completely understand that everything about children (from whether to have any, and how, and when, and what to feed them or how to raise them) is a completely personal choice.) I can't say that if I had a birth plan things would have ended differently, nor can I say that any of the medical intervention harmed my baby or prevented me from bonding with him (I'd read about how things can hinder bonding or milk let down or whatever, none of which I experienced). I just wanted to relate MY experience. To lay the foundation of where I'm coming from for the people who might not know. Because everyone's story is different, but this is MY war story. And those are my battle scars.

Early labor

Saturday June 19th 2010 was the day before Father's day and the day I started to feel contractions. I was also still over 2 weeks away from my due date (I'd made it to 38 weeks which is considered full term). I was sick and miserable and in pain from coughing, but suddenly I was excited. I was convinced I'd have a baby to give Todd for father's day and it'd be the awesomist gift ever! My contractions however had their own agenda. And that was to just come and go as they pleased; all random and willy nilly like.

Sunday was the the day before the summer solstice and might as well have been the longest day of the year, and I was miserable. The contractions weren't super strong, but they also were no picnic. While irregular, they were no further apart than 15 minutes and would last for up to a minute. We watched tv. A lot of tv, things I can't even remember. We essentially cleared out our dvr, we watched stupid movies and I tried as best I could to get comfortable. I had icy-hot patches on my back and a heating pad on my side (neither of which were for the contractions, but for my injured back and cracked rib). We cranked the air conditioning up to full blast, though I swear it did nothing to combat the 90 degree heat. Then I realized that none of the baby clothing we had gotten at the shower 2 weeks before had yet been laundered (it was my big plans for that weekend) and nothing was ready for this baby (can one ever REALLY be ready for a baby?). Todd tried to get me to go for a walk, but it was so hot and I was in so much back pain that I could hardly waddle my way around the block. Todd bribed me with an Italian ice from the place on the corner (I couldn't have the ice cream I wanted due to the very productive cough I was still sporting- for which I'd already taken 2 courses of antibiotics). Nothing helped.

Since the contractions were never more that far apart sleeping was ... sporadic at best. Between the coughing and the contractions and the peeing myself I can't even begin to express the level of discomfort I'd achieved. I would go to the bathroom and sit and try to pee and maybe an eye dropper's worth of urine would come out. Then I'd go lay down (which was a production because I could hardly move) and be hit with a coughing fit or contraction in which my entire body would tense up and I'd brace myself as best I could so as not to further move. I also mastered shallow breathing because deep breaths would aggravate my cough, although I think I was supposed to breathe deeply to work through the contractions. Whatever, a girl's gotta do... Father's day came and went without Todd becoming a father.

I made it to Monday and I made Todd stay home from work with me. I couldn't face the day alone. I'd called the OB and they told me that I should stay home until the contractions became more regular and a little closer together. And I had my regularly scheduled weekly appointment on Tuesday where they'd check me out. The OB told me to try to get some rest, there was nothing I could do for my back/rib besides tylenol/motrin and maybe I should try to have a glass of wine or take some benedryl to get to sleep. I was at a loss. I took a benedryl around 6 pm. The contractions kept rolling in and out. I coughed and coughed and peed and peed. And then finally by about 10 pm it happened. They were finally close enough and regular enough for long enough that I said let's do it. Call a car service because this fat lady is going to the hospital! It's time to have this stinkin' baby!

To start with...

I've been pondering how to begin this blog, or what should really become of it. You see, I was originally inspired to start a 'mommy blog' months ago when I was still reeling with the very newness of becoming a first time stay at home mom, as well as really getting annoyed reading a certain blog that belonged to one of those preachy-judgey my way of child rearing is the best way- blogs. I didn't know what to do with mine except that it shouldn't come across like theirs. But then I stopped following the blogger's tweets and blog* and somehow I became more relaxed and less inspired to write my own. I was no longer annoyed to the point of action. I guess it was a double edged sword. But here I am, on another snowy day in late February trying to begin. Maybe after I bang out a sloppy opening, I will be able to carry on. Maybe I'll stop sticking commas after every dozen words. Maybe maybe maybe (should there have been some commas there? Too bad! I ran out!). Anyway, I really want to start at the beginning, maybe summing up the 9 months of pregnancy and 3 days of labor now before I really forget because believe me, I'm forgetting ten minutes ago let alone ten months or a year ago! Ah! Motherhood! I want to remember the truth. The whole un-embellished ugly truth about how my beautiful, happy and wonderful son came to be. Because as time goes on the trials and tribulations of pregnancy and delivery become more hazy and are replaced by Gibson's giggles and smiles. And while Todd and I have just gotten to the point where we can consider the possibility of trying to have another baby, I'm not necessarily ready to let the memories of this experience go. I haven't put them to rest yet.

Last year while pregnant with Gibson I had started a tumblog (you can find it here). It's got a handful of posts which are barely restrained complaints about being pregnant. But the complaining... Looking back on it all, was hardly doing it justice. I know that mothers compare birth stories like old men compare war stories, and I also know that for many woman pregnancy is an exciting and wonderful time. For me the pregnancy was really a prelude to the war of delivery. I'll start by listing the pros of being pregnant just so you don't think I'm always a negative Nelly who's ungrateful for the good things or blessings in my life:

• It was not impossible, or even apparently too hard for Todd and me to get and stay pregnant. My unspoken fears of infertility and my rational fears of another miscarriage were thankfully unfounded.
• I did not once, while pregnant with Gibson, experience 'morning sickness'. Nope, no vomit there.
• I was not put on bedrest for anything (though I sometimes wished I was) nor did I experience any serious or long lasting complications that affected my or the baby's health.
• Not having a period was pretty sweet. I'm just sayin'.
• Todd was awesome. Like a champ he helped when he could, and held me when he couldn't. He let me cry when I needed to and let me sleep whenever I passed out (oh, say, all the time). He did whatever he could whenever he could and I couldn't ask for more other than to have him carry the next child. And I guess I can't really ask for that, can I?
  

I think that's it. I really can't think of anything else that was good about being pregnant. Now onto what may appear to be a long and sometimes trifling list of what sucked about being pregnant. And I am going to warn you, some things you may not really want to know about, you may consider too much information- but I'm being straight up honest about my reality:

• I was depressed. Not to the point of considering suicide or other harmful thoughts, but to the point of not wanting to leave bed- ever. Sure there was the normal exhaustion that is known to accompany the first and third trimesters. But I hardly got any energy back for the second (maybe it was the bleak midwinter blues?) and I slept for 12-14 hours a day if I could. Constantly. More if my schedule allowed. I'd fall asleep at 8 pm and wake up at 8 am on work days, and I'd nap for a few hours on my days off. Not only was I unable to drag my ass off the couch or out of bed to set up the baby's nursery- I was hardly unable to unpack (we'd moved into our apartment just before getting pregnant and unpacking wasn't finished until well, hell, I don't think it's finished now to tell the truth). I was also overcome with fear that my prenatal depression would become full blown postpartum depression (It didn't).
• I would cry. A lot. For a long time. Over nothing. More than other pregnant ladies? I don't know. But I was sad a lot. I know this ties into the previous point, but yeah. Crying. Sometimes I even cried when I was happy. What? Yeah. And you know something, I still cry pretty easily. I didn't used to have this problem. Thanks hormones!
• Also, pregnancy rage. What? You didn't know? Oh yeah! FUN! I think I showed a LOT of self control at my job and on the subway. Let me tell you! Not a single person was harmed during that time. Grumbling under my breath was probably the most I publicly did to display this rage. But it was seething and boiling just under the surface. I wished a lot of ill on a lot of people.
• Swelling. Edema. OHMYGOD SO MUCH WATER RETENTION! I gained over 50 pounds during my pregnancy, and I am NOT a small girl. And a lot of that went away soon after delivery! Why? Because it was water! I became an ENORMOUS BALLOON full to the point of near bursting. I WAS SO SWOLLEN! My midwife did the shin-dimple test, and the dent left behind from her pressing my shin was deep enough to hold a pencil. Well, not really, but almost. It was awful. I couldn't find shoes big enough or wide enough to hold the watermelons my feet had become. I had to wear compression socks from the moment I woke up (with feet propped up) to the moment I went to bed. I was lucky however, that I did not have any blood pressure problems.
  
• The swelling was so bad that I got carpel tunnel in both wrists. It started out at first only in one and wearing a wrist brace while I slept was enough to make it better. But as the months went on I began to experience tingling and numbness in the other hand too. It would even wake me up from a deep sleep (as if my ever shrinking bladder wasn't bad enough). For a while wearing braces on both wrists at night was enough to keep the symptoms at bay. But then the numbness began to surface during the day. And I began to wear the braces on both wrists all of the time. And eventually even those didn't help and there was nothing else I could do but wait for the baby to come out and take the damned carpel tunnel back. I seriously began to worry that I'd never be able to feel my index, middle, and ring fingers on my right hand ever again. (I could as soon as the swelling went away - a few weeks after delivery) That's right! I was so swollen everywhere that even the insides of my wrists and joints were swollen! Good times!
• Skin Changes. All of the books tell you that you might experience changes in your complexion or coloring or whatever. I was blessed with skin tags and moles. Oh yeah. In fun and sexy places! In places I got so pregnant and big that I couldn't see and had to ask my doctors to check for me. And hemorrhoids, though they didn't come till the end. And by then I had so many other things going on I just couldn't care.
• Incontinence. Now, to be fair I didn't have a leaky bladder till I got sick. I was SO! SICK! for the month of June. If you made it to my baby shower you might have noticed my cough. Oh! hack hack cough cough. It was so awful and constant that I lost my voice. For 3 weeks. I was a receptionist with no voice and a hacking cough who peed her pants ever time she coughed. Oh! yeah! God bless Todd who went out and bought me Poise pads without a word about his embarrassment. He is truly a mensch. I was lucky to not have any constipation problems, but while I peed when I coughed, I could barely squeeze any urine out whenever I sat on the toilet. Which, by the end, was all the damned time. I seriously had trouble getting enough for the pee tests that were required at every OB appt. I actually don't know when my water broke (I had irregular contractions for 3 days before I went to the hospital) because of my pee situation. And all of the kegels in the world couldn't help me.
  
• The cough was so bad the week before I had Gibson that first I pulled something on one side of my back during a coughing fit. This made it very painful to get up or move. But then a few days later I actually cracked a rib during another coughing fit. With that it was almost unbearable to move. Couple that with days worth of contractions and I was SO! miserable! and un-rested! by the time we went to the hospital (a monday night at 11pm). I said yes to the epidural a few hours after my being admitted more for relief from my existing back pain from the cough than fear or pain from contractions and possible delivery.
  

This leads me to delivery, which was a hoot and a half as well. But the baby's up from his nap and I'll save the birth story for my next entry. And once all of that's out of the way maybe I can just dish on what it's like for me now. I'm trying to find my footing and identity as a stay at home mom and remind myself that I do have a big beautiful brain that's capable of more intellectual things sometimes. It's hard. Harder than I imagined. So if you're not completely turned off by my little self indulgence, please come back and check for more.


I appreciate your reading this, assuming someone somewhere is. You're welcome to leave feedback, though I would prefer it if you didn't tell me how bad a writer I am (I was never good at it, but now I'm even worse- being rusty and out of practice and full of run on sentences and no grasp on grammar.) or self indulgent it is, because I know. Believe me, I know. I guess I'm just a little bit lonely and have an ever failing memory. So if you want to share your story or experience with me in any way you are most welcome to. I don't have a tight network of close female friends. Heck I hardly have a loose one. And while it seems that most of the ladies I know have now, or are about to have a baby/babies/child/children, I don't have that bond or connection with them, or even physical closeness. And so, I'm sharing my story with the faceless internet. I can't seem to carve the time out for old fashioned journal keeping anymore, so I only hope that my thoughts are vaguely coherent.


* I highly recommend you stop subjecting yourself to people that annoy you in some way. You can't avoid everyone who bothers you, but in some cases, such as the internet- there's no reason to keep following people who make you mad. (Unless you really like to complain about them- which I sometimes do, because I am nothing if not an excellent bitcher and moaner.) You might find yourself pleasantly surprised at how much peace it brings to your life.