Our birth experience, however, was far from "perfect". Ironic how I had just written a post about our birth plan, approximately NONE of which held up in the end. It is what it is, and I knew from the get-go that things don't always turn out the way we hope they will... but this was just horrific. I'll start from the beginning.
I woke up at about 4:45am on Monday morning to my water breaking. It wasn't a gush, but I could feel that something was leaking (and it wasn't urine)! YAY! In retrospect, I really wish that wasn't how my labor got started, but at that point I was so excited to get things underway that I was thrilled with the progress. I called the midwife who told me to get some more rest and come in to the office to be checked out at 8:30, since I wasn't contracting regularly yet. I let the hubs sleep until his work alarm went off, and then informed him that he wouldn't be going in to work that day! Of course we didn't sleep much more, and around 7:30 we packed up the car, left extra food for the cats and headed to the office, where my water breaking theory was confirmed. I was told to head over to the mall or something and do some walking for a few hours, since my contractions were still irregular and infrequent (I was only having about 3 an hour), and to check in at the hospital around 11am - so that's what we did. We made a Build-A-Bear for him while we were there :-)
Around 11:30am we arrived at L&D and got settled into a room. When the midwife on-call came in to talk with us around 1:00pm she let us know that we'd probably need to start Pitocin soon to get things rolling, since there was still no real pattern to my contractions, I was dilated less than a centimeter, and my water had been broken for over 8 hours. For those of you who aren't super-familiar with labor complications, the goal is to deliver within 24 hours of the water breaking, because the risk of infection in the uterus increases dramatically once the amniotic sac is ruptured. Keep that little factoid on the front burner... it will come up again later. So we started the Pitocin, which certainly got things going. I really didn't want Pitocin - I had heard that it produces super-intense contractions and wasn't looking forward to that - but I certainly understood that it was necessary at that point. I did some walking in the hallways with my IV pole, but the monitors kept slipping around and they kept losing the baby's heart rate, so that didn't last long. By 4:00pm I was definitely in a regular pattern and the contractions were... uncomfortable. I won't even begin to use the term "pain" at this point.
I had family in the room all day, since I wasn't in a ton of pain and we were more-or-less just hanging around waiting for things to progress. Both of our moms and Hubs' oldest sister were there, which kept us entertained for a good while. His other sister came around 7 and brought me an exercise ball, by request, as I was hoping that being able to shift my weight around would relieve some of the back labor that I was having. I don't know if it was the exercise ball or if the timing was just coincidental, but within about 20 minutes of sitting on the exercise ball, I was suddenly in AGONY. Crying, nauseous agony. By 7:30 I was requesting an epidural, which was fine with me - I had planned to labor without it as long as possible, and I had certainly waited a long time at that point and was rapidly approaching the end of "possible", as far as laboring without pain medication was concerned. My wonderful midwife was more than happy to help me out, and started things in motion for the epidural right away.
Fifteen minutes later - by which point I was in SERIOUS pain and getting maybe 30 seconds of relief between contractions (damn you, Pitocin!) - my midwife comes at me with "I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but... the anesthesiologist just got called in for an emergency c-section, so it may be another hour." HOLY HELL. I cried. We were offered Nubain (a general narcotic) to take the edge off which I was originally going to take, until the nurse informed me that it could depress the baby's respiration after birth and he might very well land in the NICU for a time. I cried again, but had to reject it. As much as I needed that relief, I wanted him with me (and NOT in the NICU) more. My husband was a fantastic labor partner and helped me breathe through the agony for a while. I'm pretty sure that without him, I would've just hyperventilated, sobbed and died. Luckily, my SAINT of a nurse was able to get general anesthesiology to send someone to stand-in during the c-section once it was started so that my anesthesiologist could come in and get my epidural placed. It was still 8:30pm by the time I was finally comfortable, but BOY did that thing work fast! It was like magic! At that point my midwife checked my progress, and I was 5 cm dilated and 100% effaced - perfectly satisfactory to me.
From that point on, I labored comfortably for several hours. I could see the contractions on the monitor, but couldn't feel a thing! We visited with family a little more, got some rest, and geared up for the big push. Every now and then I'd start to feel twinges during contractions and back pain on the side of me that was propped up (I was on my back, partially propped with a pillow under one side), so I'd switch sides and click my medication button to get another dose through my epidural. When I finally started feeling that "urge to push" pressure around 2:00am Tuesday, my midwife came in and checked my progress again - 10 cm and ready to push!
And so we started pushing. At first it was fine - I really wasn't feeling anything - but by the 4th or 5th contraction I was starting to feel them, and it HURT. A few more contractions later, I felt like I was back at square one, as if I'd never gotten the epidural. I was in SO much pain... I can't even describe it. I wondered if it was even possible to survive it. Again, thank God for my husband breathing through the contractions with me! My midwife had the anesthesiologist come back in and give me another "bolus" dose of medication in my epidural. After giving it about 15 minutes to start working, it became clear that it wasn't going to help.
By this point I had vomited from the pain and was reaching my breaking point. It was then that my nurse took my temperature, to find that I had spiked a 101.3 fever. Apparently the standard diagnosis for a fever during labor with ruptured membranes for nearly 24 hours is uterine infection. The midwife then informed us that, as a result of this "infection", the baby would automatically be sent to the NICU for a minimum of 3 days, possibly as many as 7. As if the overwhelming pain wasn't enough, now we were both falling apart over the news that we would be separated from our baby for days - that we might not get to take him home when we left the hospital. I tried to push through one more contraction, but the pain was simply unbearable. I felt like I could barely breathe through it, much less actively push through it. The baby's head was SO low, I was fully dilated, but I just couldn't physically (or emotionally) do it. I was practically hysterical by this point between the pain of the failed epidural, the emotional blow of the NICU news and the brimming realization that I was going to end up with a c-section. I felt like a failure, and I cried over it a lot, but we elected the c-section. My super-supportive husband did a great job of making me feel good about the decision, but it's so hard not to feel like a failure when so many other women seem able to do it with no problem.
Within about 20 minutes, we were rolling into the OR for the c-section. Those 20 minutes were pure agony, and all I wanted was to get in there and get whatever medication it was that they were going to give me to finally numb me up. I vomited again when we arrived in the OR. When they finally gave me the whopping dose of pain medication (which made me feel very light-headed and slurred my speech for a few minutes - which scared the crap out of me), it did numb me up - temporarily at least. It was wonderful to have some relief, and for a moment I finally had the time and energy to get excited about the impending arrival of our baby boy. He would be here so soon! Ben came in and sat by my head, and they got started with the first incision.
Much of the story from here on is Ben's account, because I was so out of it for most of the procedure. I was still quite groggy from the massive dose of pain medication, but I was trying my best to stay awake and present. But as the pulling and tugging went on, I started to feel more and more pain. I tried to tell them that it hurt, to which they responded "I know honey, it's a lot of pressure", to which I responded "NO, it HURTS! I feel PAIN!" I'm 25 years old, and I know the difference between "pressure" and "pain". I could feel burning at the edges of the incision, like flesh tearing. I felt pangs of sharp stabbing pain where they were pulling and tugging. It was PAIN. The nurse anesthetist started giving me extra doses of pain medication through the epidural line, but it just got worse and worse. According to Ben, I would go from out cold and snoring to suddenly yelling out in pain. I was actually pulling my legs up in reaction to the pain (umm... should I be able to move my legs...? I think NOT!). They just kept pumping me full of more and more pain medication, and I just kept sobbing and suffering. At one point Ben had to yell at them to do something when the anesthesiology team had stepped away from the table and I started crying out again. He was in total shambles himself, watching me go through it all, but I remember him being right there talking to me and breathing with me through the pain. The OB wouldn't even stop briefly to let the medication set in when the nurse anesthetist asked her to. I think she knew that the epidural had failed and that her only option was to hurry up and get the baby out so that they could safely knock me out altogether.
When the baby was born (at 4:18am), they didn't even bother to lift him up over the drape so that we could see him. Neither of us even knew that he'd come out until he finally cried over in the other corner of the room and someone asked Ben if he'd like to go see him. Ben went to take pictures, and they kept working on me, and it kept on hurting. They quickly brought the baby over to me so that I could see him, give him a few kisses and take a few photos. I have only very vague memories of meeting my little boy for the first time, which is probably the worst part of all of this as I look back on it.
I was so full of pain medication that I had to fight to keep my eyes open to look at him. The nurse had to hold my hand on him for me to touch him.
I feel so robbed of that "first moment" - I never got to have him come out of me and see him immediately and make that instant connection. I felt like it took days for me to really "bond" with him, especially with him being in the NICU. I didn't even get to hold him for the first time until about 5 hours later.
In the recovery room, the B**CH obstetrician that did my surgery oh-so-casually informed me that all of my future deliveries would have to be c-sections, because once they got in there they could see that the opening in my pelvis was too small to deliver through. So it turns out that I made the right choice - it would have been a c-section eventually even if I had continued trying to push. But of course I didn't know that when I made the decision, so I still feel like a bit of a failure for not trying harder. The sane part of me knows that I did all that I physically could. And it's not like I saved myself any suffering by electing the c-section from HELL!
When B**CH OB left the room after about a 30-second conversation and Ben followed her into the hallway to ask her a question about the procedure, she found it necessary to let him know that, by the way, she didn't think that he did a very good job in the OR, and he should have held it together better for me. ????!!!!!!??????!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! There is no string of expletives long or strong enough for my feelings about that comment. I thought he was absolutely amazing. He fought through his own tears to talk me through the pain, every step of the way. He never once turned away from the entire horrific scene, he advocated for me when I needed him... he was an absolute rock for me. So what if he cried. I remember being comforted by the fact that he was experiencing it all with me and that it was affecting him so much too. She's just mad that
he yelled at her. The hospital and the OB/GYN practice will be getting a strongly worded letter from me.
I never did spike a fever again, but I got a bunch of antibiotics anyway. I don't think I ever had an infection. I understand that they want to err on the conservative side and treat for the worst-case scenario, but putting a perfectly healthy baby in the NICU for 3 days is just horrendous. He didn't fit in at all. By mid-day he was out from under the warmer in a regular bassinet with nothing but heart rate and respiration rate monitors hooked up. He had an IV inserted but wasn't hooked up to anything - never needed any fluids - they just used it to give him his antibiotic doses to treat any potential infection that he may have been exposed to.
Given the state I was in post-surgery (traumatized and drugged, plus a 24-hour dose of morphine that I was given when I woke up at the end of the procedure which made me incredibly groggy for the entire day), I wasn't able to go and breastfeed him immediately and so he was started on formula supplementation. Exactly what I didn't want. I started pumping and breastfeeding when I could later that afternoon, but since they're super-hyper about feeding in the NICU, they still insisted on supplementing with formula. Maybe I should've been more insistent myself, but they told me that he'd be kept longer if he wasn't establishing a good feeding pattern (as measured by the amount he was taking in per day) and so he had to stick to a strict feeding schedule (no spending an hour fussing around with learning to breastfeed - 20 minutes max per feeding). Luckily my pre-milk supply was great and I was able to pump lots to bottle feed him, so we'd breastfeed for 20 minutes, do a bottle of whatever milk I had pumped to give him, and finish up with whatever amount of formula he'd take. Unfortunately, that whole thing introduced him to the wonders of bottle feeding (the "easy way" to get what he wants when he's hungry!), which would only prove to complicate things as we learned to breastfeed.
The other thing about this NICU is that they only allow 2 visitors per bedside, and Ben and I were included in that count. And if anyone other than the two of us wanted to visit, one of us still had to be there. So (a) Ben and I had to separate, and (b) it was pretty much limited to one visitor at a time. It sucked, a lot. Not to mention the fact that we were in a room in the "maternal-child unit" listening to all the other babies cry, with no baby in our room. Knowing how healthy he was and how well he was doing made it that much more frustrating - we knew he didn't need to be there. Luckily we had some amazing NICU nurses that we really bonded with and that made the experience a bit more bearable.
Before leaving the NICU he did have a renal ultrasound that confirmed the multicystic dysplastic kidney diagnosis, and a VCUG to assess his ureters for any urine reflux (backward movement of urine from the bladder toward the kidneys), which was negative. He was finally discharged on Thursday evening around 7pm and made it to our room, which was a huge relief!
Of course that night wasn't nearly as restful as the previous two, but we were so thrilled to have him with us... it was totally worth it. It was rough to be walking the floor with him all night while still healing from a c-section though, I'll say that! Of course Ben has taken to daddy-hood like a true natural, and has been an incredible help. I really shouldn't even say that he's a help to me or that I'm a help to him, because it's been such an even split of effort - he has stepped up in such a huge way from day one. He's such a WONDERFUL daddy, and I'm just falling deeper in love with him every day.
We were discharged late Friday afternoon and finally headed home with our handsome little man...
At his first pediatrician appointment on Monday, he had already gained over half a pound on his birth weight (the doc was quite impressed with our little porker!) and came away with a clean bill of health! We're so proud of him. He's just the picture of perfection, bum kidney or not. He's weaving his way deeper into our hearts every day, and his little smiles are quickly dulling the memory of his less-than-ideal birth. It's hard to believe he's finally here. He's all we were hoping for, and so much more.
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