Friday, September 28, 2007
"Progress is made"... all be it small I am informed that I am 2 cm dilated. Keep in mind I have to get to 10 and it's been over 24 hours. It doesn't feel like progress. The pit is making it so that I am feeling contractions coming fast and furious, however there is not a lot of action taking place to move me along.
While I hold out on the epidural, thinking I should wait as long as I can- I am given some other pain mediation and am able to rest earlier. I remember watching Grey's Anatomy with one eye open and feeling pretty damn good. At 3 am I get another 'hit' of whatever they were passing out however I'm a bit too far along with the contractions and I wake up every 3-5 minutes asking Chris if I am hallucinating. How fast are they coming and why isn't this baby here. It's also at this time, during one of the examinations that I inform Chris that he better love this baby a lot, because this is it. In addition sometime right around now I start verbalizing my pain in the form in rhyme "yikes. strikes. cripes."
Right around now, I break for the Epidural. Mother Goose is my nurse again, and at this point I love her. I love her so much I honestly don't know what I would do with out her. She takes care of me, she is attentive and her whispering sweetness is now endearing. She helps me with the epidural, as Chris has to leave the room and I am not doing well. I am in pain and with every contraction I have to stay still so that they can stab in the back with a needle. As I try to calm myself down and take big deep breaths I am apparently making things worse for the anesthesiologist.
After it's all said and done I am feeling better- strapped to my bed once again with no way to get up I settle in for a rest.
Dr. Doom back on shift decides that to move things along he will go ahead and break my water. This means that for better or worse, I'm told that I have to have this baby with in 24 hours. At this point, I didn't believe that until I saw that- because here were almost 2 days later and no action. It felt like a lifetime.
I'm just at 3 cm at this point, and when we call our family we find that as suspected no one listened to us and the cowboys have jumped in their cars and are heading North East. When they arrive, just as suspected, even though we requested against it there are nurses coming in asking if we will take guests. On both occasions, I couldn't have been in a more compromised positions. Thanks be they come in and ask before they just let someone waltz in, otherwise not only would the entire state of MA have seen more than I would like them to have seen but the family as well. That would have been an interesting Thanksgiving dinner conversation.
Chris hasn't left my side since this all started, and while yesterday at 2 pm I was able to get a meal, he hasn't. He's been eating whatever the fridge is stocked with on this floor (ice pops and crackers) and clear liquid. Things were going as they had been, slow, so I finally convinced him to take a walk get some breakfast and a coffee. He deserved it.
While he was gone my morning nurse came in and was checking or doing something. Now, I had previously been told that the baby was sometimes leaning up against his or her umbilical cord and to avoid this complication I needed to stay on my side as much as possible. I had been warned to be careful with fluids, as too much could result in nausea, which I handle just about as well as the whole pregnancy and labor thing. Not well. I took a small sip of ginger ale and it's right around the time Chris went to the store that it came back at me with a vengeance. Nausea hit along with my patented moaning, growing and deep breathing patterns until I got the evil out. It wasn't pretty and I was happy Chris didn't have to see that- he'd seen enough already. The nurse came in and had me on my back for less than a minute. The alarm started going off, the beeping sped up- another nurse rushed in. I had become so immune to the beeping I wasn't at all alarmed.
This was, however, until they flipped me on my side and had me put on an oxygen mask. Doctors came in, started looking at the paper that records the baby's heartbeat and movement consulted in the corner. The nurse kept saying, "I had her on her back for a just a second."
Another doctor came in and explained that the baby had gone into distress. They stopped the pit immediately and started to tell me about our options. Well, our only option, was to sign a form to consent to an emergency c-section. The baby was in distress and they had to get him or her out. Chris, now mind you, is just walking in as I am on my side with a mask on. He still has cream cheese on his face and looks like a bus hit him. He will never leave the hospital again.
The anesthesiologist came in to start the process of getting me numbed up and ready to go. As the doctors came in, they noticed that the baby was not only no longer in distress but doing better than great.
Due to these facts, and the risks of surgery, they called off the emergency section.
Only 4cm. Keep in mind, with each passing hour the same experience repeats itself. It's like groundhogs day, but with out the comedy.
6cm- and this is big news because I progressed so much in a short amount of time. It's starting to look up!
No sign of baby, never mind the 'pushing' part of this activity. A measurement 8cm and this is where I stall. Once I stop progressing here I am told that at this point they worry that the strength of my contractions will not be strong enough to physically to get to 10cm. A device is installed and we are told that for 2 hours they will test my contractions. I need to get over "200" to be able to have this baby otherwise it's surgery time.
2 hours come and go and my scores were: 80, 65, 85, 80, 80, etc. It never got higher than 85 and like we had been told if it isn't up to 200 no dice.
Mother Goose comes in to tell us that what they can do is try for 2 MORE hours and see where we are, then if we still around up to 200 then we will go into surgery.
I do the only thing I am capable of at this point, cry. Chris and I talk about it and decide we want to "call it" and talk with Mother Goose about getting the doctors in to speak with us.
The doctor comes in, Dr. Pocock. I called him Peacock, I thought I was hilarious. He was a freakishly tall man who looked like he had been in a bar fight. Black eye and all. We talked with him about the journey thus far and about the fact that even if after this next 2 hour test if I got to 200 was there a guarantee I'd be able to push this kid out? And if not what then? Section? We asked if we could just pull the band-aid off and get this baby out now. He agreed that at this point, he could classify this as an urgent c-section, especially because yes- after all of this there was no guarantee that I could push the baby. Hindsight being what it was, thanks be to Jesus. Fast forward- the baby was not only 2 feet tall and almost 11 pounds, but she had a 15 cm head. Think about that for just a quick second.
It's go time. The anesthesiologist comes back in to numb me up good. Previously I knew I needed a refill on the drugs and visit from my favorite visitor- the anesthesiologists every time my left side started to feel contractions. We assumed for whatever reason they were stronger on that side as that's the side I would start to feel the pain on. What we find is for whatever reason only half of my body was responding well to the anesthesia. As they got me ready and tested the results, they pricked a pin and I was to rate the pain 0-5. 0 being I could feel the pin prick sharply, 5 being I couldn't feel it or it was just slight pressure. On the right side of my body I was a strong 5, on my left 0-2. Yup. Only half of my body was becoming numb, a bit of a problem when they would be cutting both sides. You can't make this stuff up.
The solution to this is to first pump me up with everything they have "on tap" that would keep me awake, the last option being to put me out completely. With everything on tap in my body, I was able to feel little to no pain, and only pressure. I was also able to feel complete nauseous.