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.