A Birth Day Story

Today Sophia Rose is 7 months old!! Every month that goes by I am more amazed at how fast she is growing, how much she changes from month to month...and how fast the time is going by. Recently my sister posted a detailed (and hilarious) blog about the day that my nephew, Cooper, was born (read it here). So it got me thinking about the day Sophia was born and when I went back to see what I said about her birth day (read it here)....it was surprisingly little and not detailed at all! I must've been too busy with my newborn to blog the momentous event. Even seven months later I can remember the day pretty vividly.
So here goes...the birth day of Sophia Rose! (Slight disclaimer....it's not super gory, but hey, childbirth is childbirth. Some gross things happened. That's my warning.)
The event actually started the day before she was born. I was 5 days beyond my due date and knew that at some point during that day the hospital would call and tell me to come in for my scheduled induction that would start the following morning. I assumed that they would be calling sometime in the early evening....and I should not have assumed such. Michael and I had finally had a good night of sleep the evening before and woke up leisurely and had a good pancake breakfast. We decided we would go to Target and Publix and buy some stuff that we needed. I had just gotten out of the shower (it was about 1pm) and my phone rang....it was the hospital, they told me to be there at 3pm. I was like, ok, and hung up. Then I started to freak out. The conversation had been so short and I had asked no questions....so I had to call back to find out why in the world I had to go in so soon if they weren't going to start my induction until the next morning....as I found out, it was because that was when a room and nurse was available. Ok then.
So we rushed to get things ready and nixed the Target/Publix trip. Check-in was pretty simple, I had filled out all the paperwork weeks before. A nurse met us in our room and told me to change into a gown and get comfy....there was more paperwork and she would explain all that was going to happen. At this point it was kinda just like checking in to a hotel room or something, not very exciting. So then the nurse hooked me up to some monitors and informed me that she would put in my IV (where they would administer the pitocin the following morning) and that I should go ahead and eat dinner (which would be brought up to me....it was some gross chicken thing...I sent Michael to get me some McDonald's, haha) and around 8pm she would put in the cervadil (look it up if you don't know and really want to know what that is.....short version, it kinda gets the area ready for labor...and that is all I will say about that) and then if I wanted to I could have something to help me sleep for the night. We were kinda bored, we watched some football game (which I am sure Michael can remember which one) and Jerry Maguire and then we tried to get some sleep.
Ugh, that did NOT happen. I think it might've been around midnight or so that I started feeling the worst cramping in both my lower stomach and my back. And it went on ALL night. Michael insists that it was the worst night of his life....but this is interesting because he was NOT the one in early labor. After hours and hours of this pain happening every 10 or so minutes we had the nurse come in and I told her that I was having pain.....and she was kinda like....oh, hmmm, yeah. I don't think she looked at any of the monitors, she hardly came all the way in the room. Finally at about 5am (after I had buzzed her repeatedly) she said, well I can give you something that might help the pain and let you sleep for an hour......WELL, THEN GIVE IT TO ME, JEEZ!!!! And she was right, it helped for almost exactly an hour. Thankfully, her shift was over and the next nurse that came in was much nicer. Unfortunately, she didn't bring relief with her nice attitude. I had planned to take a shower before they hooked me up to the pitocin but that went out the window because I felt so crappy and just to go to the bathroom I was all hunched over against the cramping, so a shower really wasn't in the cards. I tried to just wash my face and put on some minimal make-up (tried to look human, I knew there would be people to visit in and out all day and even childbirth isn't going to keep me from putting my face on) and brush my hair and teeth. Nice nurse came in at that point and said around 8am they would start up the pitocin....but first did I want to go ahead and have an enema? FYI, if anyone ever asks you this question, say NO!! I wasn't really sure about the details of an enema but from the little I knew it would keep a person from, say, emptying their bowels during the pushing part of labor. Gross, I know. Not as gross as the enema itself though, as it turns out. If I had to describe it using as few descriptive words as possible...it would essentially be an explosion of everything in your entire digestive system....and in my unfortunate case it exploded from both ends (not all over the place, in the bathroom, before you really start to gag).
After that, well, pitocin to start the contractions didn't seem that bad. I was already in some pain anyway and my back was killing me so I don't even know that I really noticed it getting any worse from the pitocin. After a couple hours, a nurse said that I could have my epidural at any time and to just let her know and she'd order it up. I was in no way planning on not having an epidural....I felt no need to be in agony for some undetermined length of time just because women hundreds of years ago used to do it that way....so I told the nurse to go ahead and put in the word, I'd take the epidural now, thanks. It was not as bad as my sister described in her blog....although she is afraid of needles and they really don't bother me. I was a little worried I would inadvertently move or something but it was quick and didn't hurt and the relief was really pretty quick. Well worth it. The hours passed pretty uneventfully. My doctor would come in and check me and the nurses would turn me from one side to the other. Michael and I would watch the monitors for contractions and the baby's and my heart rates. My sister and mom came and then later my dad and brother and nephew and Michael's parents. I tried to read, sleep, watch tv....basically pass the time. At some point the doctor broke my water and I was progressing along fine and not in pain.
Around 4-ish, the doctor came in to check me and she and the nurse turned me over and upped the pitocin....and the baby did NOT like it. They immediately turned me back to the other side and the doctor was holding on to my wrist, checking my heart rate I guess, and she was staring intently at the monitors....they put an oxygen mask on me and I started to get nervous. Michael was sitting on the couch near the monitors and I couldn't quite see him or the monitors, so I couldn't tell if he was as worried as I was....I was just trying not to panic or cry. The doctor finally told me that the baby's heart rate went waaayyy down when the turned me and then waaayyy up high. Later, after everything was under control, Michael said that he was in fact very worried when he saw how low and then how high the monitor registered for the baby. They lowered the pitocin and once the heart rate was back where the doctor felt comfortable, she told me she would be watching me more closely and that hopefully within the next few hours we'd be pushing the baby out.
That plan didn't quite pan out either. One thing I did learn from the experience is that whatever plan you make for the birth of your child....you really have no control. You can make out a nice detailed birthing plan (we really didn't) but you really aren't in control at all. Any detail can change depending on how the baby reacts and how your body reacts and how the doctors see what is best for the health and safety of both you and the baby. I am lucky that I had a good doctor (and for the most part a good group of doctors....I didn't really care for either of the two guy docs...but I didn't want a guy to deliver my baby anyway, if I had a choice) and that the nurses at the hospital seemed nice and helpful and on top of things. I trust that those who have spent years and years in medical school (or even the nurses, I know firsthand how hard it is to even get into nursing school) know what they are doing and that I do not know better than they do about birthing a child. I have watched a lot of episodes of Baby Story and 16 & Pregnant and One Born Every Minute and various other reality shows about the births of babies and I still think I will defer to the doctor during the birth of any of my children. If something seems strange or I feel uncomfortable about something I will surely speak up and ask questions and make sure that I understand or can offer my input....but for the most part, if I doctor tells me something I will not immediately assume that they are trying to avoid a lawsuit or they really don't care about my as their patient or anything like that. I will just assume they are trying to do their job as a doctor. Ok, I got off the topic just a tad. Back to the story.
Anyway, it was just before 7pm when the doctor came back to check me....most of the group was eating dinner at that time....we figured it would be the last chance they got and a good time to go. I was definitely feeling some pressure and I think my epidural was wearing off a little...I assumed it was probably getting to be about time to push. The doctor found that I was still only at 8 centimeters dilated (I had been also at 8cm when she checked me around 5pm) and she was worried that I wasn't progressing anymore. With the sudden rise and fall of the baby's heart rate that occurred earlier, she didn't want to chance upping the pitocin anymore and risking any more heart rate spikes. She felt that the best thing to do at this point was for me to have a c-section. I was ok with her decision, but immediately started to cry when she left the room. Was I upset that I couldn't my baby normally? Um, no. The reason I was upset was primarily because I knew I would have to stay at the hospital longer...and Michael only had a week off of work and I didn't want our whole first week together as a family to be spent in the hospital. I think that is pretty valid, and if it's not, oh well.
Now comes the more eventful part of the day. Someone came in to give me a more effective epidural....and then I was more uncomfortable than I had been since the previous evening. My epidural during the day had effectively cut off the feeling in my stomach and lower back and left my legs numb feeling but I could still kinda of move them and feel them. The new epidural was like a pile of bricks had been placed on my body from just under my chest to my ankles....and I was freaking out. I wouldn't normally say I am claustrophobic person....but after this I might definitely be. I know in the past I have felt extremely uncomfortable in tight shoes (my toes just need to move) and tight spaces (like sitting in an airplane on the runway and not moving or taking off and being stuck in that cramped coach seat...ugh, I hate flying anyway) but this was something else entirely. I HATED not being able to move my dead-weight legs. I was warned that I would feel nauseous and I did but I could not concentrate on anything but how panicked I was at not being able to move my lower half...the nurses did good to try and talk to me about the baby to distract me....what were we naming her, what was her room decorated with, etc. They finally started to wheel me to the operating room. I again started to feel panicked about not being able to move, hated that they had me laying flat on my back (I sleep with no less than 3 pillows each night), and was really starting to feel nauseous. I tried to tell someone I was going to throw up. There was a lot of bustling going on, Michael wasn't in there with me yet, those nurses are SO lucky they didn't try to tie my arms down, I probably would've freaked even more. And so I just turned my head and started to puke. In my hair. When Michael finally came in, I was still throwing up (really?? How in the world was there one single thing in my system....I had literally only had some ice chips in the 13 or so hours from my enema experience) and the doctor and some other person seemed to be getting to work on me on the other side of a very intrusive-of-my-personal-space blue sheet curtain thing. I wonder if they had strapped me down or something on the other side of the curtain cause I was throwing up pretty violently the whole time they were cutting me open....I am glad they didn't cut my leg off or something. Within 15 minutes (it literally felt like an eternity) I sort of (between barf, choke, barf some more) heard the doctor tell Michael to stand up....and they had my baby out, at exactly 8:30pm. I kind of heard her cry. I didn't see her (cause it's pretty much impossible to throw up with your eyes open) for a while and when someone finally brought her near me....I wanted to touch her or hold her or kiss her or something....but I had to tell whoever it was that I was going to throw up again and didn't want to on my new baby. Every time I watch a show with someone having a baby and they get to hold the baby immediately, even after a c-section, I feel so sad that I didn't get to because I was so sick.
After that things went fairly fast. They wheeled me to a recovery area and Michael pushed the little bassinet with the most adorable tiny baby in it next to me. They washed her up right next to me (another couple of nurses were working on getting me cleaned up....not that anything short of a shower and an entire bottle of shampoo would get the puke out of my hair) and Michael got to feed her a tiny bottle. And then, FINALLY, I got to hold my little tiny girl. I was still hooked up to a lot of things and laying down a lot flatter than I was comfortable.....but it was still awesome to hold her...plus she was all cleaned up and so cute in her little hospital hat and all swaddled up. I was regaining feeling in my legs so all was good again. I was in recovery for a while, but then they wheeled me up to a room (and Michael pushed our little girl in her bassinet along side me) and our families came up to see her. Once the nurses kicked them out we had some alone time with her, fed her, and then tried to get some sleep.
It was definitely a birthing experience that I will never forget....not quite as smooth as the control-freak in me would've liked it to have been, but not as bad as some of the stories I have heard. I would say that it was definitely worth it now that I know how wonderful my sweet Sophia Rose is....although for a while, due to my experience, she was going to be an only child! If and when we do have another child....for my next one I can just elect to have another c-section at 39 weeks.....which will be just fine, as long as they know ahead of time that I do NOT want to vomit through the whole thing. :-)