The Section
With the extreme nausea and the anticipation of what was to come I have never been more scared, plus C wasn't in the room yet so even though there were 10-20 people in the room I felt very much alone. I was breathing heaving, doing my signature moaning deep breathing exercise. C came in and shortly thereafter they began. Behind the curtain I could hear the doctors talking to one another. It sounded, however , that they were reading form a "C-section For Dummies" book painfully explaining how they are doing what they are doing and why. There are certain things a girl shouldn't know, like how internal organs will be taken out and why stitches vs. staples will be used. I was pretty sure that the Peacock had never done one of these here fancy operations and I'd being coming out stitched up with an organ being left out or something. They kept referring to the 'pressure' I'd feel- between the pressure, the nausea and the fear that my doctors were learning how to cut for the first time it was a whirlwind of feelings. Through it all I was doing the my signature freakish breathing moaning thing and the anesthesiologist kept asking, "J, how are you feeling? Do you feel any pain?" Now she had prepped me that she would check in frequently about that because they wanted to be able to catch it if the drugs started wearing off. C didn't hear this part of the pre-surgery prep so after time 3 or 4 he finally interrupted me as I confirmed, "No I'm fine just nauseous." C was obviously growing irritated with the repeated questions, once again, so he let her in on a little known fact about me.
"No, she's fine. This is how she gets when she is nauseous, like when she drinks too much and gets the spins- this is how she gets."
The extreme feeling of vomit got increasingly worse through out the surgery but there was so much more to distract me from that. Like when, for example, they finally said, "Okay mom, this is it- you are going to feel a lot of pressure." My response was, "More pressure? Sure. Why not."
The next few seconds, at 10:55 pm, are crystal clear but difficult to describe. I did feel an amazing amount of pressure, like a large part of my body literally being lifted from my abdomen. Oh wait that is what happened. It was like a weight was lifted out from my stomach. Then I heard the doctors, "Wow, what a big baby!" They also kept calling to "Dad" to look. C was going to announce the sex of the baby- that was the plan but in all the excitement- he and I had locked eyes and he wasn't looking up. Finally I said, "That's you! What is it?"
C looked up, jumped up and started waving his hands in the air... "It's a girl it's a girl - we have a daughter. A daughter! Oh my god, it's a girl it's a girl!!!!" He was circling the operating room and almost took a nurse or two out. We were crying- and then started hearing L cry. It was pretty much the most beautiful sound I had ever heard.
In addition to being a gigantic baby it turns out she was literally wrapped around my bladder- which was full, despite all signs pointing to the fact that it was empty. I heard the doctors discuss how this could have been a bad thing. Do they know that I could hear them? I mean it was only a sheet separating us? Why not take that into consideration. It also explained the fact that no matter what I could always go to the bathroom- I know all pregnant woman have that- but I always believed I had a bit more of an ailment in this department, and what do you know? I was right. My gigantic baby was hugging my bladder and due to her size laying in and on all the hoses and inner workings in there- I never did have a clear line to fully get to empty.
C went over to cut the cord and take pictures of our little girl. He came back to show me and I almost passed out- because our girl was not so much little. She looked gigantic. I said, "Holy shit, are you kidding??" The nurses and doctors chimed in saying that she was huge and they couldn't believe it. Mother goose kept coming over saying, "Can you believe how big she is?? She is such a big baby!"
It's around this time that they explained to C that she had swallowed some meconium and for precautionary reasons they were going to take her to the NICU.
they just may not be grammatically correct
Showing posts sorted by relevance for query Herstory. Sort by date Show all posts
Showing posts sorted by relevance for query Herstory. Sort by date Show all posts
Monday, September 29, 2008
Saturday, September 27, 2008
Herstory Chapter II: Little Pill Big Wait
Thursday, September 27, 2007
1:30 am
Mother Goose checked in on me frequently, and told us to get some rest- but I was anxious to get this lill'pill everyone was talking about and get the party started. Little did I know that the doctor wouldn't tromps in until after 1:30 am. Dr. Doom and his twitchy assistant- we called him Sally Jesse. Sally definitely shaved his whole body, had an annoying twitching thing and glasses like Sally Jesse, thus the nickname. He was an interesting mix of tourettes and Eurotrash. Dr. Doom had zero bedside manner and just wanted to get the job done. These are the first of many visits to strip me down of my dignity and utter the fateful words I would hear for the next 72 hours, "you are going to feel a little pressure."
Sally also knocked on me, which was strange. He literally took time to knock on my limbs and torso- as if he was expecting something to knock back at him. It was strange, and when I laughed at the ridiculousness of the situation, he couldn't understand what was so funny. Dr. Doom and Sally gave me the first of the little pills, and with that I had to be checked frequently, including my blood pressure every 15 minutes. Mother Goose came in to make sure we were comfortable but with all kinds of monitors on and a blood pressure cuff trying to squeeze my arm of regularly, this was difficult. And this is where I lost my sh%t the first time. She came in and whispered, "is everyone comfortable?" She might as well have spit in our faces, and my reaction to her was as if she did.
The night rinse and repeated - every 15 minutes the cuff would squeeze my arm off, I would cry because I was exhausted, Mother Goose would come in and check in, Dr. Doom and Sally would check me every 4 hrs to see how I had progressed- they would find that I still had not progressed. Eventually Mother Goose realized I was not going to get any rest and changed the torture of the blood pressure cuff to every 30 minutes. I missed the Cheerleader at this point.
I was told by Dr. Doom, no personality, "with a long and tight cervix like mine, this could take a day or so."
Stupid cervix.
6 am
Before the next shift of doctors took over, Dr. Doom gave me my second little pill. Thursday was a slow day. Much of the same, a revolving door of nurses and doctors, everyone taking a peek to see how the pill progressed me, and it didn't. Doctor after doctor would come in, sit on my bed and let me know “you are going to feel a little pressure" and pressure I felt, but dilated I was not.
2 pm
I was given a meal. Since nothing had kicked in, they wanted me to eat a bit before they hooked me up to anything else. A hospital boxed lunch never tasted so good.
At some point they started me on pitocin, the pills weren't working so the pit was the next step. With the pit came more checks, and a continued drip of fluids, as I remained dehydrated. At this point I'd been sitting and laying down for longer than I have ever been still. When I needed to use the b-room I had to call the nurse in, get unhooked from my various monitors and hobble my IV and myself into the room. The fun really got started when they started to measure that as well. To add insult to injury I had to get a "top hat" put in the loo to catch it all. It was then measured and recorded. When Mother Goose came back on shift, she was assigned to me again and would note what I could expect to find in my "top hat" or give me praise for what I was producing. All of this, not helping.
At the start of this journey I took notes of funny things that happened and notable characters along the path, however we never thought it would take this long. I didn't move along much at all on Thursday.
8 pm
When we knew we were going in for the induction we didn't call our family and let them know to avoid the masses just sitting and waiting in the waiting room. We specifically requested that they not come until we called, and when we called- for them to respect we didn't want people in the room until the baby arrived. Unfortunately as we discussed this with everyone, it became clear quickly that that wasn't going to be respected. The anticipation of the little ones arrival was a bit too much for everyone to stay away until we were ready. We decided to circumvent the system and not tell anyone what was going on until we left them with only enough time to make it, to meet the new arrival. That was the plan. That being said, now that we had been in the hospital for 24 hours it seemed wrong to not call. We didn't think it would take this long. We called the troops and asked that they not get in their car and come until we knew more about the timing, because it had taken this long already who knew how much longer it would take.
1:30 am
Mother Goose checked in on me frequently, and told us to get some rest- but I was anxious to get this lill'pill everyone was talking about and get the party started. Little did I know that the doctor wouldn't tromps in until after 1:30 am. Dr. Doom and his twitchy assistant- we called him Sally Jesse. Sally definitely shaved his whole body, had an annoying twitching thing and glasses like Sally Jesse, thus the nickname. He was an interesting mix of tourettes and Eurotrash. Dr. Doom had zero bedside manner and just wanted to get the job done. These are the first of many visits to strip me down of my dignity and utter the fateful words I would hear for the next 72 hours, "you are going to feel a little pressure."
Sally also knocked on me, which was strange. He literally took time to knock on my limbs and torso- as if he was expecting something to knock back at him. It was strange, and when I laughed at the ridiculousness of the situation, he couldn't understand what was so funny. Dr. Doom and Sally gave me the first of the little pills, and with that I had to be checked frequently, including my blood pressure every 15 minutes. Mother Goose came in to make sure we were comfortable but with all kinds of monitors on and a blood pressure cuff trying to squeeze my arm of regularly, this was difficult. And this is where I lost my sh%t the first time. She came in and whispered, "is everyone comfortable?" She might as well have spit in our faces, and my reaction to her was as if she did.
The night rinse and repeated - every 15 minutes the cuff would squeeze my arm off, I would cry because I was exhausted, Mother Goose would come in and check in, Dr. Doom and Sally would check me every 4 hrs to see how I had progressed- they would find that I still had not progressed. Eventually Mother Goose realized I was not going to get any rest and changed the torture of the blood pressure cuff to every 30 minutes. I missed the Cheerleader at this point.
I was told by Dr. Doom, no personality, "with a long and tight cervix like mine, this could take a day or so."
Stupid cervix.
6 am
Before the next shift of doctors took over, Dr. Doom gave me my second little pill. Thursday was a slow day. Much of the same, a revolving door of nurses and doctors, everyone taking a peek to see how the pill progressed me, and it didn't. Doctor after doctor would come in, sit on my bed and let me know “you are going to feel a little pressure" and pressure I felt, but dilated I was not.
2 pm
I was given a meal. Since nothing had kicked in, they wanted me to eat a bit before they hooked me up to anything else. A hospital boxed lunch never tasted so good.
At some point they started me on pitocin, the pills weren't working so the pit was the next step. With the pit came more checks, and a continued drip of fluids, as I remained dehydrated. At this point I'd been sitting and laying down for longer than I have ever been still. When I needed to use the b-room I had to call the nurse in, get unhooked from my various monitors and hobble my IV and myself into the room. The fun really got started when they started to measure that as well. To add insult to injury I had to get a "top hat" put in the loo to catch it all. It was then measured and recorded. When Mother Goose came back on shift, she was assigned to me again and would note what I could expect to find in my "top hat" or give me praise for what I was producing. All of this, not helping.
At the start of this journey I took notes of funny things that happened and notable characters along the path, however we never thought it would take this long. I didn't move along much at all on Thursday.
8 pm
When we knew we were going in for the induction we didn't call our family and let them know to avoid the masses just sitting and waiting in the waiting room. We specifically requested that they not come until we called, and when we called- for them to respect we didn't want people in the room until the baby arrived. Unfortunately as we discussed this with everyone, it became clear quickly that that wasn't going to be respected. The anticipation of the little ones arrival was a bit too much for everyone to stay away until we were ready. We decided to circumvent the system and not tell anyone what was going on until we left them with only enough time to make it, to meet the new arrival. That was the plan. That being said, now that we had been in the hospital for 24 hours it seemed wrong to not call. We didn't think it would take this long. We called the troops and asked that they not get in their car and come until we knew more about the timing, because it had taken this long already who knew how much longer it would take.
Friday, September 26, 2008
Herstory Chapter I: Rushing to Wait
Disclaimer: This is a true story- and some parts may fall under the section of TMI. If you don't want to know, don't proceed. But don't tell me I didn't warn you. I wrote this a year ago when the memories were fresh. Labor and delivery is a humbling experience and while previously I would have considered myself to be a pit of prude when it came to public nudity and sharing this kind of detail, when the better part of the state of MA has seen and been intimate with your vaj - it changes to your reality. Don't say I didn't warn you. Also it's long as hell. It can't be cut down- don't say I didn't warn you.
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
To bring you back, I took the day off of work and had a good day. There was an incident with a black cat and a bird unloading on me, but signs pointed for it to be "the day."
8:28 pm
The laughs begin right about now. We leave the house for our 8:30 pm appointment to get the party started. I felt bad we were keeping them waiting. HA. Keep in mind this is the second appointment; we canceled the first hoping that I would go into labor on my own. HA again. We didn't tell anyone we were going in, because as it was explained it would take a bit - and since we were going in at 8:30 pm we figured that we could make calls in the morning when we anticipated I'd be in labor and by the time the grandparents got in their cars and drove to Boston like cowboys the baby would be here and no one would have to be sitting around waiting. Oh the best laid plans. HA HA.
When we arrive to the hospital with a full suitcase of all that we were told to bring- we were ready. As I remembered in our class- there were "several" rooms with bathtubs and million dollar views. We had seen one during our tour- and I was ready to "check in." Leather Face, one of the nurses- she had a leather face... anyway she showed us into a room I assumed was the "intake" room. It was tiny, crowded with all kinds of machines no additional "lounge" chair for C- a crap view and directly across from the loud and busy nurses station. No tub either. And it wasn't like I wanted to give birth in the water with friends and family surrounding me as I had seen oh so many times on TLC- but I heard it was relaxing and I heard it could help move along labor. Who doesn't like a good soak? I brought my bathing suit top and damn it, I was looking forward to it.
We asked Leath if we could have a room with a tub, and she informed us no, they were all taken and this was our room. No switches either- so if one of those mo'fos were done with the room (which I am fairly sure they all were once this nightmare was over) we couldn't scoot in there- which I think the hospital should really re-evaluate that plan. But it's neither here nor there.
In a twist of fate pinky-nobra's husband waddled by and came back with some grub. We couldn't believe it, that they were there. What are the chances? I nearly screamed "holy crap! Pinky-nobra is in the house?!" Instead, I sent a text everyone I knew that might remember pinky.
There we sit waiting for the doctor to arrive, because as I had been told by a doctor in the practice that I saw the Monday prior, I would come in and they'd put a "teeny tiny littl'pill in my vajina." She was a Southern Belle- so this whole thing we found to be hysterical. She also informed us, "Ya'll are fun- I hope I git to deliver ya'lls baby!"
As we wait, Leath explains the littl'pill and how this is going to work. Her explanation is the same as the doctor's but with no accent, it wasn't quite as fun. She also proceeds to ask me a battery of questions like will I be breastfeeding, do we know the sex of the baby, do I drink, do I smoke, how would I rate my current level of pain 0-10, etc. She takes my blood pressure, hooks me up to a monitor or two and off she goes.
Several minutes later another nurse comes in, Cheerleader Laura. She'll be my nurse for the evening, she shares. She explains how the littl'pill and how this is going to work. She also proceeds to ask me a battery of questions like will I be breastfeeding, do we know the sex of the baby, do I drink, do I smoke, how would I rate my current level of pain 0-10, etc. She takes my blood pressure, hooks me up to a monitor or two. The only difference between her and Leath is she violently stabs me twice.
Apparently I was dehydrated- no one told me I should be drinking gallons of water before this appointment, but that would have made adding an IV line to me easier. I added this one to my list of "things I should have been told previously." Once she finally got a line into me, off she went. A little known fact, and something that I added to the "wish I didn't need to know this" list is that I have incredibly small veins that make it difficult to put in and keep IV lines. That will be a reoccurring painful and annoying fact through out the stay at the hospital. At one point, while I was recovering they actually had a specialist come in to put in another line. When I explained to her that I have been told I have incredibly small and diff cult veins to get into her reply was, "well I just put in a line a 3 day old, I think I can handle it." Sure she was a little cocky, but she was the only person who didn't seem to struggle and I didn't even feel her needle me. The rest of them, I was sure, they were trying to kill me.
Several minutes after the cheerleader stabbed me, another nurse came in. Mother Goose. Sweet as pie- and nauseatingly so. I knew from the start she and I would not see eye to eye with her. She whispered everything, including her explanation of the littl'pill and how this is going to work. She also proceeded to ask me a battery of questions like will I be breastfeeding, do we know the sex of the baby, do I drink, do I smoke, how would I rate my current level of pain 0-10, etc. She took my blood pressure, hooked me up to a monitor or two and off she goes. Sound familiar? Yeah. I was in hell already. At this point it isn't much past 10 pm.
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
To bring you back, I took the day off of work and had a good day. There was an incident with a black cat and a bird unloading on me, but signs pointed for it to be "the day."
8:28 pm
The laughs begin right about now. We leave the house for our 8:30 pm appointment to get the party started. I felt bad we were keeping them waiting. HA. Keep in mind this is the second appointment; we canceled the first hoping that I would go into labor on my own. HA again. We didn't tell anyone we were going in, because as it was explained it would take a bit - and since we were going in at 8:30 pm we figured that we could make calls in the morning when we anticipated I'd be in labor and by the time the grandparents got in their cars and drove to Boston like cowboys the baby would be here and no one would have to be sitting around waiting. Oh the best laid plans. HA HA.
When we arrive to the hospital with a full suitcase of all that we were told to bring- we were ready. As I remembered in our class- there were "several" rooms with bathtubs and million dollar views. We had seen one during our tour- and I was ready to "check in." Leather Face, one of the nurses- she had a leather face... anyway she showed us into a room I assumed was the "intake" room. It was tiny, crowded with all kinds of machines no additional "lounge" chair for C- a crap view and directly across from the loud and busy nurses station. No tub either. And it wasn't like I wanted to give birth in the water with friends and family surrounding me as I had seen oh so many times on TLC- but I heard it was relaxing and I heard it could help move along labor. Who doesn't like a good soak? I brought my bathing suit top and damn it, I was looking forward to it.
We asked Leath if we could have a room with a tub, and she informed us no, they were all taken and this was our room. No switches either- so if one of those mo'fos were done with the room (which I am fairly sure they all were once this nightmare was over) we couldn't scoot in there- which I think the hospital should really re-evaluate that plan. But it's neither here nor there.
In a twist of fate pinky-nobra's husband waddled by and came back with some grub. We couldn't believe it, that they were there. What are the chances? I nearly screamed "holy crap! Pinky-nobra is in the house?!" Instead, I sent a text everyone I knew that might remember pinky.
There we sit waiting for the doctor to arrive, because as I had been told by a doctor in the practice that I saw the Monday prior, I would come in and they'd put a "teeny tiny littl'pill in my vajina." She was a Southern Belle- so this whole thing we found to be hysterical. She also informed us, "Ya'll are fun- I hope I git to deliver ya'lls baby!"
As we wait, Leath explains the littl'pill and how this is going to work. Her explanation is the same as the doctor's but with no accent, it wasn't quite as fun. She also proceeds to ask me a battery of questions like will I be breastfeeding, do we know the sex of the baby, do I drink, do I smoke, how would I rate my current level of pain 0-10, etc. She takes my blood pressure, hooks me up to a monitor or two and off she goes.
Several minutes later another nurse comes in, Cheerleader Laura. She'll be my nurse for the evening, she shares. She explains how the littl'pill and how this is going to work. She also proceeds to ask me a battery of questions like will I be breastfeeding, do we know the sex of the baby, do I drink, do I smoke, how would I rate my current level of pain 0-10, etc. She takes my blood pressure, hooks me up to a monitor or two. The only difference between her and Leath is she violently stabs me twice.
Apparently I was dehydrated- no one told me I should be drinking gallons of water before this appointment, but that would have made adding an IV line to me easier. I added this one to my list of "things I should have been told previously." Once she finally got a line into me, off she went. A little known fact, and something that I added to the "wish I didn't need to know this" list is that I have incredibly small veins that make it difficult to put in and keep IV lines. That will be a reoccurring painful and annoying fact through out the stay at the hospital. At one point, while I was recovering they actually had a specialist come in to put in another line. When I explained to her that I have been told I have incredibly small and diff cult veins to get into her reply was, "well I just put in a line a 3 day old, I think I can handle it." Sure she was a little cocky, but she was the only person who didn't seem to struggle and I didn't even feel her needle me. The rest of them, I was sure, they were trying to kill me.
Several minutes after the cheerleader stabbed me, another nurse came in. Mother Goose. Sweet as pie- and nauseatingly so. I knew from the start she and I would not see eye to eye with her. She whispered everything, including her explanation of the littl'pill and how this is going to work. She also proceeded to ask me a battery of questions like will I be breastfeeding, do we know the sex of the baby, do I drink, do I smoke, how would I rate my current level of pain 0-10, etc. She took my blood pressure, hooked me up to a monitor or two and off she goes. Sound familiar? Yeah. I was in hell already. At this point it isn't much past 10 pm.
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Herstory Chapter III: Pre-Section
Friday, September 28, 2007
1 am
"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.
3 am
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.
5 am
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.
7 am
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.
10 am
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.
1 pm
Only 4cm. Keep in mind, with each passing hour the same experience repeats itself. It's like groundhogs day, but with out the comedy.
3 pm
6cm- and this is big news because I progressed so much in a short amount of time. It's starting to look up!
6pm
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.
8:30 pm
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.
9:30 pm
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.
1 am
"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.
3 am
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.
5 am
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.
7 am
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.
10 am
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.
1 pm
Only 4cm. Keep in mind, with each passing hour the same experience repeats itself. It's like groundhogs day, but with out the comedy.
3 pm
6cm- and this is big news because I progressed so much in a short amount of time. It's starting to look up!
6pm
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.
8:30 pm
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.
9:30 pm
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.
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