Wow, the past few days have been unreal. I last updated on Thursday in the morning soon after they had started pumping in pitocin. From 12pm, May 12th, until 5 am, May 14th, I was dealing with contractions. 41 hours of early labor and it only led to being dilated by 4cm.
I used a fitness orb, a fitness peanut, slow dancing, varying leg positions. Nothing pushed me into active labor. They kept saying to make it to 6cm and we'll be in the home stretch. The contractions got so strong throughout the day, too. I didn't want an epidural because I didn't want to do it so early. If the beginning took this long, can the ending really be that short? I wanted the baby in my arms but I knew he wasn't ready so I waited for him to give me a sign. (Note we can freely say pronouns now)
I believe at 10am on May 13th, they broke my water because I had made it to 4cm. It felt like things were moving so nicely! The doctor who came in at 6 am wa snot very comforting -made me cry. She gave me minimal answers and her visit was brief. Had I obtained the knowledge of inductions and labor that I have now, I would have been okay, but it was all so new to me and she was very curt after working her 24 hour shift. I wish she would do people favors and just not do those shifts. It would give her a better bedside manner. She basically gave me my first crying spell and I felt so desperate for four hours.
A new doctor came in soon after that. She reminded me of General Holdo from Star Wars, except I have no clue if she had purple-ish hair. Though Jackie, the nurse who talked a lot, had purple-ish hair. I could see it sticking out through her hair cap thing. Our room was always dark so I didn't really see much going on. Anyways, they broke my water and the contractions quickly turned into pain, pain and more pain. Not cramping pain, but pain nonetheless. I was on 2-30 levels of pitocin (whatever that means), and when the water broke, I was contracting every 1-2 minutes for hours on end. I breathed through all of them, dealt with the pain and kept my mind on the goal.
I was thankful for the nurse we had the night before they broke my water, Shawna, because she knew how to just be there for me. When the new nurse came in after that terrible doctor visit, I wasn't all too thrilled cuz she talked a lot and overexplained things, but she at least made it very apparent that she cared. Shawna came back later in the evening, but she wasn't my nurse. She just knew that I liked her and she just wanted to help. It was a relief to have her there for a little bits she came in on.
May 13th was like one last date day between Ryan and I. Besides the constant pain and regular contraction pauses, he and I just talked, hugged, watched Falcon and Winter Soldier, cried, laughed, and appreciated the other one being there. We barely got any rest. Though Ry was able to get a bit more than me, but not much. It was honestly a blurry of a day for me since I spent most of staring at focal points (the red light from the TV being turned off or Ryan's eyes or the up button for the bed or even this white piece on a red container on the baby's soon-to-be panda warmer). Im trying to write as much down as possible, but I know I'll miss a few things.
As the day progressed, my energy level dropped substantially. I gave up my fitness orb life and I embraced bedrest for the first time in the pregnancy. Going to the bathroom was difficult and I was constipated. Stupid magical hemorrhoids that appeared two days before going in the hospital.
Those pesky IV issues got worse. As my pain increased, I had to deal with a 5 IVs. After the one in my elbow went off sixty thousand times, the nurse finally called the anesthesiology team to try another spot but with a deeper vein. She found it with an ultrasound, which was neat, and she had to really numb my arm to get it in there. It was the best IV, though. It really stuck in there and I only had minimal issues with the IV tower. Thank goodness because I was at my wits end at that point. Though Jackie ended up finish the IV and reconnecting my pitocin and fluid drips...she taped the IV to my hospital bracelet. So when anyone tried to scan it, I had to twist my arm painfully.
The one time, the food people came. I twisted my arm to have them read it, and they didn't even scan it....but we'll the damage was done. I had accidentally disconnected everything. The IV started gushing blood like a fountain and I just sat on my fitness orb with nothing much to do but hope it stopped soon...or that someone would come in. My husband actually had to go get someone because there was blood everywhere. All the while, I was contracting every 3 minutes at that point. So a fountain of blood just pushing out while squeezed my own legs. What a trip! The final IV sat in my arm up until May 15th...it was annoying to breastfeed with it in. I had to finish my toradol pain meds before it could come out.
As the day went on, I kept contracting but nothing changed...at 10pm, they finally told us our options: more of the same or having a c-section. We were looking at a failed induction if we didn't progress to 6 cm by 5am, May 14th. At the point, it would have been 18 hours post my water being broke and the chance of infection would then steadily increase. I didn't take the news well and I cried. My night time doctor, who I had seen in the office and who is actually a midwife, was the one who broke the news. She tried to say it was natural to feel sad about this, but honestly...nothing was going to console me after here the word "failure".
Just like my sister, the pitocin failed. Before they officially said it failed, they did a pit rest (a 1-2 hour pitocin break) and then started the process at 2 levels again. We made it up to 10 levels before they called it at 430am. My cervix stopped at 4cm and there was no changing it. Though at that time, I had finally accepted the c-section. It was the right choice and it meant getting to see our baby sooner. We just needed to pray again for safety, healing and life...plus tell our families that I was having a c-section. They were wondering where we went for so long because I just cried for a while and asked that my husband not share anything until we were ready.
The surgery was interesting. I wasn't really contracting anymore but I was exhausted, starving, shaking, and ready to be done. They wheeled me over without my husband so they could give me a spinal anesthetic, still no epidural. I sat there breathing in and out. Using yoga techniques to keep myself present and prepared for a flexible response. I hate the idea of needles going into my spine. I don't care about needles...it's the whole losing movement permanently issue. I need to be able to move and fidget to breathe calmly and react appropriately.
After they were finished, they slowly lowered me back. My legs went numbs and I started to shake uncontrollably. My teeth started chattering. It was if I was extremely cold so they put 3-4 warm blankets on me. I can't remember how many but I do know there were 5 total on me when all was said and done. They splayed my arms out like I was being crucified and I made sure not to move them beyond the shaking. I have no clue how long the procedure lasted but it was light outside when they were done. I believe it was less than an hour, but I honestly don't know. Time had become irrelevant yet so necessary by then. Time still hasn't recovered and it's been almost 3 weeks. (Note: I've been writing this on and off since the hospital stay.)
C-sections are weird. You're awake for the whole procedure and you can feel everything happening to you - the incision, the hands rooting around your insides for the baby, the baby coming out with their arms and legs hitting the sides of your open stomach as they leave, the uterus flopping around. There's just no pain involved.
When my baby came out, he didn't cry much, but when I heard his first squeal, my husband and I cried, too. He was finally here. Our baby boy was alive and well. A 7lb 5oz baby measuring at 20 inches even though he was a few weeks early. He was fully grown and ready to be with us. They measured him, cleaned him a little and got all his vitals while the doctors finished up with my stomach. They gave him to my husband to hold and I got to slightly touch the baby. I cried the whole time because of how happy I was. It was the most fulfilling moment and it was just the beginning of my son's life.
The surgeon was the OBGYN who recommended us to the fertility clinic three years prior, almost to the date. We had come full circle. She still has a weird bedside manner, but the whole thing was surreal. She did a good job and we all made it out safely. My husband was so nervous holding our baby. It was his first time ever holding a baby. I didn't want a c-section, but I was glad when everything was over. My legs remained numb for a while - a few hours I think? In order to graduate to the mother/baby unit and to eat, I had to be able to move my toes. It was a weird feeling to be able to move my arms and not my lower body. Around my incision, I'm still a bit numb there and apparently, I could be for a long time.
We took our first picture together and I look terrible, as if I had gone through pain for 3 days straight. My husband, the always photogenic one, looked great and our son could barely be seen. At least we have this family photo - even if no one else is allowed to see it. My body was still shaking. My shoulders were starting to hurt and feeling was coming back to my lower extremities slowly. They were prescribing me motrin, tylenol and oxy. I only took tylenol because the rest seemed frivolous. Sure, I was in pain, but nothing compared to the contractions and well, I survived all of that with just a tylenol here and there for headaches.
By about noon, I was starving by this point. It had been 30ish+ hours of early labor since I had last eaten. We ordered food (with some hiccups along the way) and finally got to eat when we arrived the mother/baby unit. It was then we started our four day stay of recovering, figuring out parenting, breastfeeding, and personal survival, and being interrupted every hour by nurses, doctors, consultants, social workers and who knows who else. I had only gotten about 2-3 hours of sleep in total during the 3 days of delivery. I matched this during the first few days of parenting, too. Even when I got home, I lived on 2 hours max for about three days straight. A week+ of no sleep really did me in. I was exhausted and finally got rest when I slept through a few alarms. Thankfully my husband took over that night because I needed it.
While in the mother/baby unit, our son had dropped about 10% of his birthweight. He was dehydrated and having a tough time pooping because of the weight loss. It was getting much milk because my nipples wouldn't stay erect while he was eating. Plus he kept falling asleep and it was hard to keep him demeanor.
A lactation consultant visited 6 times. I didn't like the first one, but then we lucked out with Renee for the rest of the visits. She was understanding and she didn't pressure us to breastfeed her way. She thought of different ways to encourage us and give solutions, such as a nipple shield or supplementing formula. Renee revealed that her oldest went through this as well and that it doesn't help when the hospital staff tells you how to do everything their way without listening to your needs. I commend her for her absolutely genuine care and reassuring assistance.
A few nurses were stellar (not Shawna awesome, but still great to have). Katie gave us our first few hours of rest. It also hurt his weight cuz I was delayed on the feedings, but she gave us swaddlers, extra blankets, shirts, etc. She also made sure to talk to us like we were humans and not patients who were leaving in a few days. Kristie was the first one to see me cry and she knew exactly what to do. She brought us the right sized nipple shield and flanges. She brought us a ton of formula. She helped ease my feelings of hopelessness transition into a sense of pointed purpose. The other nurses - Salimah, Anna, Natalie and a few others in the mother/baby unit were the best parts of the stay. Even if they all provided varying levels of care.
The doctors were too quick with their check-ins and I didn't really enjoy their presence. They had the best intentions but we felt like a mark on their checklist. I assume they have too much to do in one day.
The room was small for a three person family but large enough for everything we needed to do while there. Our baby had a little plastic tube of a bassinet with two drawers of storage. My husband had to sleep on the most uncomfortable couch out of the three he ventured on. I believe it was this one that he caught an ear infection from because he didn't use the bed setting. He used the regular couch setup because the bedding was slanting.
The bathroom was pretty big, though. I put many mesh underwear and large pads on in there. It's where a nurses used a perineal bottle on me and showed me how to use it. It's where I took my first post-surgery shower and found out my stomach was numb still. I liked our original room with the induction unit best because of the couch for my husband, and I loved the huge size of the labor/delivery room. The bathroom for the mother/baby unit was best. It was right next to my bed during a time when it was hard to walk. Plus it served as a dish washing site and a great place to rest from all the noises in a hospital.
I had a catheter in from the c-section and by the time they took it out, I was very hydrated. Peeing clear impressed the nurses who took it out - I guess it's the little odd things that make the day better.
My husband and I fought multiple times in the hospital and since coming home. We're exhausted. We don't fight often, but when we do, it is normally because one of us is tired...and well, we're always tired right now.
It's now 6 weeks post delivery and our little guy is doing well. He's a tad under the weather (doctors says a cold), but otherwise he is 11 pounds and 22 inches long. He grows pretty fast so he may be heavier by now.
These last few weeks have been very tough and I've gone through a lot of emotions. It's a lot of work and we asked for it. We really wanted a child and now we're finding out how hard it is to raise one. Yet would I trade my son for anything? No. This shows how bad we wanted a child and also how much we are still willing to sacrifice in order to hold him for many more years. The birthing experience was not what I wanted, but he came home. That's all I prayed for...and it's exactly what we got. I can only be thankful to God for his life right now. My heart feels warm.
This post took six weeks to write because I don't have much time anymore. Most of it was done while in the hospital, but some parts had to be completed or filled in afterwards. It barely covers everything that happened during our 6-day stay. It was a long and arduous time, and now we are met we an harder time of caretaking. Parenthood is so glamorized and I'm here to tell you how much it shouldn't be. The afterglow is wonderful and the heart fuzziness is neverending. No, seriously. I feel joy even when my son is crying and I don't know what to do to help. Yet, we paint pictures of cuddling babies and doing fun activities, but it's a lot more than that. Make sure you want a baby before having one. It's a lot of work to get to the time where they can take care of themselves alongside you. It's years of waiting for them to grow old enough to just pee on their on own. It's many days wondering if you're doing okay as a guardian. You just hope they survive your mistakes and your novice-abilities of taking care of a human life. As rewarding as it may be, you are forever changed. For at least the beginning parts, you will not have much time to do anything for yourselves besides eat and sleep, which is still something you lose and have to reteach yourself and your baby how to do at the same time.
I'm not complaining, just not being dishonest. I'd rather be open about my struggles than to sink in self-negligence. Sure, I probably have postpartum depression in a mild sense, but I am actively working to go beyond it. It's been tough to not have much time for myself, but I can't give up. I have to do this for my baby and for my husband. I have to keep going for myself, too. I owe it to me.
