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I guess it all started Monday night at around midnight. I went to the bath room and woo hoo, bloody show. I was so excited. Any day now and I would hold my precious son. Contractions started not long after that. Real contractions. Not the kind of contractions that I was getting on July 19th which I now know were really strong baby hug's. At first I was dealing with them very well. Would close my eyes and breath as deeply as possible, but then Morgan turned. I was not prepared for back labor. I did not know it was possible to hurt so much. The contractions were about every half hour, so when Nate woke up with a migraine at three, half an hour before he normally gets up to go to work, I suggested he call in and use my impending labor as a reason not to go to work. Nothing changed throughout the morning and I finally kicked him out and told him to go to work at around noon. His head ache was mostly gone by then and his pacing was starting to get to me. He agreed as long as my sister in law, Leewitt, would come over. So I got rid of one mother hen only to gain another. At least she was not pacing. That evening we went to bed and I managed to sleep for a few hours. I woke up Wednesday with the strongest, most painful contraction of them all. I also had a full bladder and I think that is what made it so bad. I went back to bed and was up 15 minutes later with another one. I tried the bed one more time, but again, was up within 15 minutes. It was almost 7:00 so I called Laura at work. While on the phone with her contractions started coming every five minutes and I couldn't talk through them very well. We decided she should come up and said good bye. I paged Leewitt and after she called back and said she was on her way I went to wake up Nate. It was great. I slowly woke him up by rubbing his leg and said that the contractions were five minutes apart. He shot out of bed like a rocket. I couldn't help but smile as he looked around the room as if there was something really important he was supposed to be doing. The contractions continued to come every five minutes until around noon. They started to ease off and I was very upset. The rest of the day they were ever 45 minutes to an hour. That evening we watched "The sixth sense" Most of the movie was one solid mild contraction that peaked and eased but never really went away. I started to get hope again but did not say anything. After the movie Nate checked for dilation before we went to bed and he said that the cervix was defiantly opening up. It turns out there are two "lips" and he was feeling the outer one, not the cervix. I didn't sleep very well that night. Was up two hours after laying down with more strong contractions. It was 4:30 and Laura had to make the decision as to whether or not she was going to work or staying with me. So I woke Nate up to check for progress and he said there definitely was some, so she stayed. Again he felt the outer lip not the cervix. That day went much like the previous. Contractions close together in the morning, then tapering off in the evening. Laura left that evening to return to her family and go to work the next morning. None of us had had much sleep at that point. Leewitt left as well and the next day, Friday, Nate went to work. I spent the day dealing with the contractions alone. It was not bad for the most part. Most of them were fairly easy to breath through, but every once in a while one would be bad. I started getting worried about things not progressing and was thinking about going in to have a "non stress" test. That was when Leewitt told me she had called her OB to discuss whether or not the baby was at risk. He told her a bunch of bull that freaked her and my brother out so I agreed to talk to him and see what he had to say. He told me that the amniotic fluid starts to decrees at 36 weeks and that if the baby had its first meconium in the womb, which of course it had because I had been in labor for four days and I was 42 weeks gestation, that it would be too thick and the baby would suffer brain damage and might die. He also said that if I came into the Longmont hospital to see him I needed to plan to have the baby that night and that he would be taking over my prenatal and postnatal care. While talking to him I remembered that the last time I met him, when my sister in law had her second child, that I thought he was a slime bag and I have no idea why she treats him like a God. I then called a midwife I had interviewed months before and told her everything he had said and she debunked all of it. I went to the hospital in Loveland and had a non stress test and the baby was fine. I was 75% effaced and 2 centimeters dilated. I got home and tried to sleep. I could not lay down because every time I did my back went into spasm or I had a really bad contraction, so I tried to sleep in the chair. I know it sounds like having a contraction is a good thing, but by then I was dreading every one. Saturday I tried to stay in the tub to ease my back, but the water actually made the pain worse when a contraction hit. At one point I was hit by one while in the tub and I started to scream. Nate went nuts. It wouldn't be the last time. He had no idea what to do and ended up grabbing my hand and jerking me up out of the water. He had been yelling at me to get up and trying to help me stand but I was totally gone. He was so apologetic later on and I kept telling him that he did exactly what I needed him to do, he got me out of the water. We finally figured out that the birthing tub was not helping, and that was the end of the water birth. On Sunday I laid down because I couldn't sit up any longer. I had had so little sleep at that point that I was existing in a haze. I don't know why I even remember the little that I do. At one point I was hit by a back spasm really bad and the same time a contraction hit, which made it worse, and I screamed for Nate to rub my back. I said deep and so he went deep, too deep. I really screamed at that and we now have to patch some dry wall next to our bed. I also lost my flannel sheet to his miss guided desire to pull the sheet back over the shower curtain while I was on it. There is now a rip down the side. He was being ripped apart mentally every time I had a contraction. I can not imagine watching someone I love enduring what I went through. He watched for seven days. Laura came up on Saturday evening and stayed the night. I don't really remember Saturday. Laura had to remind me that she was there. I knew she had stayed two nights because I kicked her out of the recliner the second night, but I didn't know when that was. I was very glad she was there Sunday night when we went back in to monitor the baby and see if there was any progress. I was 100% effaced and 3 centimeters dilated. The baby was at a station of -2 to -3. The nurse said that if we were planning to have the baby with our Nurse-midwife, we told them that was our plan to avoid all the hassle, that we needed to head to Boulder right away because I was going to have the baby that night. Oh bitter sweet hope. At last the end was in sight, or so I thought. Laura returned home Sunday night and the next day is when I completely lost it. Leewitt came back over that afternoon and was a blessing. She could find the exact spot to massage to release the spasm and talked me through the contractions. She would kneel behind me with me leaning back against her and she would talk and sing into my ear. Occasionally she got me to sing as well, as the contraction was ending or just as it started. But in the middle I could do nothing but scream. Contractions were pretty close and Laura was going to come back up after work, but when she got home she walked into a house that had just been robbed. Needles to say I told her to stay home and deal with that. So it was just Leewitt, Nate and I Monday night. A testament to how tired Nate was is that he slept through much of my screaming after about or 11:00 pm. I had not really gone to the bath room in almost two days because all of my platform muscles where in spasm, so my bladder was full. I was also seriously dehydrated. During a contraction Leewitt asked me to squeeze her hand and I was only able to give her a week grip. Around 1:00 am I realized that if it ever came to the point of pushing the baby out I would not have the strength to do so. I broke. It had been seven days with about 10-12 hours of sleep and I was completely exhausted. I decided that I needed to go to the hospital. As Leewitt was pulling the car around I sat in a chair and waited. Nate sat down across form me and started to cry. He begged me not to leave him. He thought that I would blame him for the loss of my dream and having to go to the hospital. I held him and promised I wouldn't leave him. I still start to cry when I remember that. Before we left home I made the decision I would be asking for an epidural and a catheter. Everything else would be decided as we came to it. And so I started the long road to a c-section. One of the most comforting things I had while in the hospital was my down pillow. I took it with me to scream into while going down the hall if I lost control. That is the first difference I noticed about being there. It was actually Sunday night when I was in to be monitored that the force of the hospital made itself known. When I had a contraction I made very little noise. I felt inhibited. It was like that Monday night too, though I had less control, I ended up screaming into Nate's shoulder. Problem number one: The bed. I do not know why they think a labor bed should be so uncomfortable, but it was as hard as a rock. The nurses agreed with me and joked about it a lot. I could tell they get a lot of complaints. Nate tells me that I was checked by three people when I first went in. I don't remember, but it was about half an hour before the anesthesiologist came to "try" the epidural. She made me put a pillow in front of me to curl over, hello I have a basket ball in front of me, I don't need the pillow, and made me hold still while she made two attempts at finding the right spot. It turns out that the scar tissue from my burns made it difficult for her to find the right spot. Before she tried the second time I switched position. I got rid of the pillow, crossed my legs Indian style, and put my head on Nates chest. The position was great for curling my back, but terrible for the contraction I could not move through. It was the third time I screamed that I had to move that she gave up and called her boss. While we waited for him I asked them to go ahead and do the catheter. Big mistake. Never have a catheter put in if you are going to be able to feel it. Imagine you have to go to the bathroom really bad. Half way through urinating all the pee is shoved back up inside you. Ouch. I have to admit that at the time the pain didn't really have an impact. After all, every few minutes my back was being torn apart. But in hindsight I can look back and say "you know, that really hurt." The head of anesthesiology arrived and he was great. He seamed to time it so that I could move through the contraction and only had the needle in my back in between. He also got it on the first try. The relief was almost immediate. The pain seamed to wash out of me and left behind a blessed numbness. For the first time in several days I was able to think clearly and the full impact of the last seven days washed in. I could not believe I had made it so long. I never knew I had the capacity to survive such pain and remain sane. From there things were pretty uneventful. Or so they seamed to me. Nate's version might be different. The doctor I was assigned to came in sometime around 6 am to check me. He asked me about pit and I told him I did not want it. He said ok and left. Shift changed at 7:00 and I never saw him again. I also got a new nurse at 7:30 and she was a saving grace in dealing with the next doctor. When he came in the first thing he said was, "let's start the pit." I said "no" and he looked really surprised that I was there. Oh my, a patient that has a voice and knows what she wants. He had no idea. He tried to steal my power over the birth but I would not let him. At every turn I remained firm in my right to make the final decision about what would happen to Morgan and I. Nate was a strong support throughout it all and I can never thank him enough for his love and compassion. His trust overwhelmed me at times and scared me. What if I made the wrong decision? How would that affect our relationship? Would he still love me, or would he forever hate me if something happened to our child because of my stubbornness? I never had to face those questions because Morgan is completely healthy. With the introduction of this new doctor everything changed. I started having to fight for my right to keep the birth as natural as possible. When he checked me I was dilated to 7 centimeters but still at a -2 station. So we waited. He checked me again and nothing had changed. The epidural had stopped my contraction for about four hours, but then they started again, weak but regular. I think it was the third time he checked me that he broke my water. He already had the needle ready when he asked. I said, "ok, let me talk to Nate." The water was broken by the time I finished saying ok. I think he knew that if he gave me time to think about it I would refuse. So it was done and there was no going back. When he broke my water I was dilated to 9 cent. As soon as he broke the sack I bounced back down to 7. So we waited. Later that day he checked me again. Again he wanted to start the pit and I refused. So he sat on the end of my bed and told me that if I didn't have this baby my baby was going to die. His voice was so harsh and Nate was not there to support. I had to stand on my own and make the decision with out discussing it with him as we had agreed. I said no and he stood up and said he would find me another doctor to take over my care. He had warned us that it might come to that if we did not take his advice. So it was done. I was going to get rid of the jerk, but the next doctor could be just as bad or worse. It was at this time that we discovered the nurse was on our side. We asked her directly for her opinion. She said that as long as the baby was fine on the monitor she did not see a problem with waiting. In the last exam the doctor did he discovered the baby was at a left occipital transverse position so I am not sure why he thought pit would make a difference since pit can not turn the baby. The nurse recommended I get into a kneeling position leaning over the upright head of the bed and see if that helped turn Morgan. It was an amusing procedure. She and Nate helped me get up, my legs were numb from the epidural, and turn around. It was while I was in this position that the doctor came back to say he had rethought his position and wanted to talk about it again He had an admin lady with him who had the forms I needed to sign refusing medical advice. He continued to try and pressure me to go for the pit. I refused and signed the forms refusing the pit and an internal fetal monitor. When he left I turned to the admin lady and said I wanted a different doctor. So we spent the next few hours trying to find a doctor or nurse midwife to take over care. No such luck. We were stuck with each other. He had a legal obligation to treat me and I had no one else to turn to. We established an uneasy truce. Morgan did turn, but not the way we wanted him to. He was back in a posterior position. Earlier in the day I had asked the nurse to turn down the epidural so I would be able to feel the urge to push. That afternoon I started feeling the contractions again and I could tell my back was even worse. It was then that it dawned on me that I might not be in pain, but that did not mean my back was not going into spasm with every contraction. At some point the contractions started getting to much and she turned it back up again. it had stopped working so the anesthesiologist put in a booster. It never did completely take away the back pain after that. I don't know what time it was that we made the decision to start the pit. It had gotten to the point were Morgan had to be born that night. I had two choices, start the pit or stop the epidural so I could get up and walk. I knew I would not be able to deal with the second so we did the first. He stated it even lower then he normally does for which I have to thank him. I wanted as little stress as possible. A second "sack" of water had formed so Morgan had a little buffer from the force of the contractions. After the pit started I basically passed out. Nate and Laura were asleep. Oh yea. Laura showed up sometime mid afternoon. Not sure when, but she was there for the worst part. She thinks I relied too much on her, but I could not have done it without her and Nate's support. I just wish they had been talking to each other as well so Nate was more fully informed and I could have had more confidence that his opinions and desires were based not only on fear but also on hard facts and knowledge. I know it hurt him that I seamed to trust my sisters opinion more then his. It was not her opinion that I trusted more, but her knowledge based on research and years of study. So we slept, and sometime in the wee hours of the morning the doctor came in with a strip from the fetal monitor that showed distress. That was the hardest decision I have ever had to make. To wait it out and see of he would finally drop, he was still -1 station at 7-8 centimeters dilated, and risk having to do an emergency c-sec when there was distress on every contraction, or go for the c-sec right then and not take the risk. Nate and I kicked everyone else out and I cried. I cried for the loss of the perfect birth I had so wanted. For the fact that I was going to be the first woman in my entire family history to have a c-sec. For the week of pain I had suffered and all the anguish Nate had been through, only to end with the most invasive birth you can have. For the fact that Morgan was not born, but extracted from my body. And then we called the doctor back and gave him our decision. From there things started moving much faster. My room was abuzz with people coming and going. It was not yet an emergency so I did not get the mad dash down to the OR. Once there they made me drink this vial stuff that would help me not throw up since I had drunk some cranberry juice a few hours before. I did, however, convince them to let me rinse my mouth out afterwards. In the OR they had to get set up before they would let Nate in. The hardest part was when the blue sheet went up between my head and the rest of my body. I felt utterly cut off from what was happening and why. It didn't help the all sensation from my neck down was draining out of my body. Finally Nate came in and held my hand, which was strapped to a board, and told me it wold be ok. He reminded me that before we went to the hospital I had promised I wouldn't leave him. He said he couldn't raise Morgan with out me so I didn't have a choice about getting better and making it through. It was interesting to feel the loss of sensation in my chest. It made it difficult to breath because I couldn't "feel" the rise and fall of my chest or my lungs drawing air. At every point where I lost feeling or something didn't seam quit right I called the anesthesiologist over and asked about it. He kept reassuring me that it was normal and I kept apologizing for being so paranoid. He assured me that he appreciated me letting him know when things changed. I didn't fully relax until I heard Morgan's cry. It was the most precious thing. It told me that he was breathing and alive. That I had not killed my child with my high ideals. He sounded so healthy. I cried. After they cleaned him up and got the meconium out of his lungs they brought him over and handed him to Nate. One thing I was absolutely adamant about through out the pregnancy is that I wanted Nate to be the first to hold him. In my mind I had been holding him for 10 months. It was Nate's turn and his honor to be the first to hold his child. I know the doctor held him first, but having him go immediately to Nate was the next best thing. Nate held him so I could see him and I said he looked like his dad. Then they whisked him away to the nursery to put him under oxygen and a warmer. I would not hold him for eight hours. It was not long after that that I started feeling the pain. Just a generalized sensation in my belly. The anesthesiologist upped the epidural, but it didn't work. So he put in an IV sedation and I slept though most of the rest of the surgery. They sent Nate away as soon as they put me under, so he was not there when I woke up about five minutes before they were done stapling me up. I was still in pain but they could not give me anything else, so I had to deal with it. In comparison to the pain of the contractions it was nothing. Laura was waiting in the nursery for Morgan and she had a video camera with her. One of the ones with the flip out screen that you can play the video back in color and watch like it is a small tv. I don't know how much she taped exactly or how long I was in recovery before she and Nate showed up to show me my beautiful child. It was a wonderful use of technology. Most of that day is a blur. I would wake up long enough to ask Nate for pain killers and then was out again. then the nurse would wake me up to find out if I really wanted them, I don't think she trusted Nate for some reason, or she would wait until I woke up and asked her. By then I was in much more pain and she would have to go get doctor approval to add a dose. She also did this really painful abdominal massage that hurt like hell. She only did it when no one else was there and I know that if Nate had seen how much she was hurting me we would have had a different nurse. She was horrible. She knocked a small figurine my MIL had gotten me off the night stand multiple times and broke it, but said nothing until we complained to one of the other nurses. She put a bruise on my left forearm the size of a baby bottle cap that was still there three weeks later. There was so much she did that I can't take the time to try to remember it all or write it. If it had not been so close to shift change when I came to I would have requested a different nurse. Oh well. That was the only one that was bad. I remember my brother and cousin Jay coming in at some point. Jay had a yellow shirt on that blinded me when I opened my eyes. I will never forget the feeling of love I felt when I realized who was there. Nate was of course in and out a lot. He divided his time between Morgan, who was under an oxygen hood in the nursery, and me. I don't know when Laura left, but I remember her saying good bye. I know there were others but I cant remember if they were friends or nurses. About four hours before shift change I woke up and was suddenly awake. It was like I had been submerged in a liquid that kept me from reacting or being fully aware and all of a sudden I was pulled out and all sensation came washing back in. I wanted my son. What do you know, he was already there. I had not even realized someone had brought him in. So I held him and worked at nursing him. It took us a bit but we managed it and he got a good amount of colostrum . My milk came in on Friday. And boy did it come in. I woke up and my gown was soaked. That's when nursing really took off. They wouldn't give me anything to eat until I had passed gas. I had not eaten anything since Monday night and even then I didn't eat much so I was starved. It was Thursday when I finally lied and got some food. They had given me broth even though they were not supposed to, but it really didn't help. When they brought my dinner I didn't eat it. Yuck. So it was not until Friday morning that I really got some solid food. They made me stand up on Wednesday evening and walk on Thursday, which I did grudgingly. They tried to get me to walk down the hall Thursday night but I only made it one door away. Friday I asked about the possibility of staying an extra day and found out it would not be possible, so I realized I had to get to the point of being able to walk before the expected me to go home and face a flight of stairs. I actually felt better once I started walking so I made several trips down to the nursery at the end of the hall and back. For all the pain I went through I can not regret any of it. I truly believe the c-section was necessary and that Morgan would not have survived if we had waited. It is one of those intuition things. I think I knew before I went in and that might have been one of the problems. But I have the most perfect, healthy baby ever. He did not suffer from the eight days of pain I went through. He is five weeks old and weighs over 11 pounds. He is quiet and right now he is sleeping. He pushed himself over from his stomach to his back when he was four days old. And he is already starting to inch himself around when on his stomach. He smiles all the time at me and his daddy, and I have heard him giggle in his sleep. I have a precious child and I thank God he is here. |