Birth Story

WARNING: THIS IS VERY LONG (and I even shortened it from my journal version!)

From my blogging you know that I went in to the hospital last Wednesday morning under the assumption that I would be induced and leave the next day or so with my little one in my arms. Not so. After careful consideration given the fact that my doctor would no longer induce since I’d had a previous c-section, we decided to take option number two and head home to hopefully wait it out. Option 1 was to have a c-section that day. We left knowing that most likely I would be returning the following week to have a c-section, but still slightly hopeful that I would be able to go into labor on my own beforehand. I honestly don’t think my mental state would have handled that rash change in plans and a c-section very well, and I’m grateful to Mr. Man for being so helpful and hopeful and encouraging me to leave – amidst really wanting to not be pregnant anymore! I cried, and it was a hard day for me. I felt like I was faced with a big choice, and I didn’t know how to be sure to make the right one. By no means did I want to put my baby (or my own life for that matter) at risk because I was refusing the thought of a horrible recovery after a surgery. So I was torn and praying to feel peace about what to do.

Joy took me out for Mexican, and everyone and their mother called to see how the birth had gone and then to offer advice on how to either naturally induce labor or else to assure me a c-section really isn’t that bad. Mine was. Anyways…

I do have to mention the blessing that Mr. Man gave me Tuesday night before we went in. I don’t remember everything, but there was one part that stuck out to me because it was a little strange. He blessed me to be able to be in tune with my body and to be able to communicate to the doctors and nurses how my body was feeling so that they could use their medical expertise to see me through. My immediate thought was, “I wonder what a uterine rupture feels like, and if I’d know.” When my doctor sent me home, scaring me with thoughts of a uterine rupture, I kind of figured that that part of the blessing (well in fact the entire blessing – since I hadn’t given birth) was null and void, and that perhaps I had been saved from some medical disaster by not being induced.

Thursday and Friday we kept pretty busy getting odds and ends done. We were also kind of preparing for a c-section, and Mr. Man asked his Mom if she could come and help. The plan was for her to arrive Sunday and stay the week – with me most likely having a c-section on Tuesday or Wednesday. Friday morning I went in to the doctor’s for a non-stress test and sonogram to insure that the baby and placenta were healthy and thriving in my choice to “wait it out”. Everything was great. My placenta showed a couple of small areas of calcification, which was fine, but also meant I was definitely right about my dates and over 41 weeks. The baby looked wonderful and healthy. I talked to my doctor about breaking my water but my cervix was still too high up. He said he would strip my membranes on Tuesday if I wished and then bid me goodbye and good luck. I came home, happy that I wasn’t yet being forced into a c-section, but also frustrated to STILL BE PREGNANT!!! That afternoon I was exhausted and took a long nap. I awoke feeling an overwhelming sense of calmness. I felt peaceful and even expressed to Mr. Man that I felt totally fine about however things happened – even fine with a c-section.

When Mr. Man left for his nightly bike ride after the kids were in bed, I was having some cramping (as I had the night before). He told me I should probably rest and take it easy. I told him I was first going to sweep the floor and vacuum and my parting words to him as he left were, “Tonight’s the night!” I honestly didn’t think it was THE night, but I was trying to think positively. When he came back I informed him that my “cramping” was coming on every five minutes. He showered and mocked my choice of movie, begging for a different one. I compromised and we settled on one we both like and haven’t seen in ages, “Fiddler on the Roof”. And so from 10 to 12, with the exception of an attempt to walk around our cul-de-sac, I labored to “If I were a rich man” and multiple “on the other hands”. By midnight I was exhausted and attempting to sleep between contractions. We decided to head to bed. Mr. Man slept mostly, but while my contractions slowed down, they grew much more intense. Around 2am I couldn’t take it anymore and woke him up so we could go to the hospital and GET MY EPIDURAL!!! (I do have to mention what a wonderful coach Mr. Man was during all this laboring. He rubbed my back, let me squeeze him and lean against him and counted so slowly and calmly that I only cried a couple of times – he made me feel like I could do it!)

Mr. Man called our friend, Kara, who answered the phone like it was 2pm and happily came over to sleep here with our kids. We drove to the hospital and Mr. Man enjoyed going through at least 3 red lights! The nurse (a nice nurse this time!) checked me and I was still only a three. However my cervix was completely thinned out and nice and low. She called Dr. C to come. I was asking about my epidural, but apparently Dr. C wanted to arrive and check me and make sure I’d be staying before that took place. She talked me through his arrival… “he’s putting his shoes on now…” I felt like the man lived a million miles away. He arrived a little before 3am, and at that point I was an 8. Both Dr. C and the nurse ganged up on me and informed me that I would probably have this baby out in a half hour, and we most likely didn’t have time for an epidural, and did I really want one anyways, because I didn’t look THAT uncomfortable. I was apalled, and scared and asked how much worse it was going to get. At 3:30 I was devastated that I was still having to suffer and I hadn’t progressed at all. My nurse had me roll onto my side and that’s when the screaming started. Apparently it was me screaming, I don’t recall… I was in too much pain. Mr. Man laughs about that time now as I was telling him to hold my hand, and then not to touch me. When he’d calmly say, “it’s okay”, I’d retort with a “NO IT’S NOT!” I guess he told me at one point that he “understands” – and I set him straight on that one. We’re both big believers in epidurals – it’s really not good for your marriage to go “natural!” Anyways, being on my side was a killer, but it did the job. In about 15 minutes I was ready to push and push I did! I hollered and Dr. C, bless his tender voice and sweetness told me to try to hold it in so I could use that energy to push. Three pushes later, Jacob Gideon was born at 3:58am. It was a very tender moment. Mr. Man was crying and just kept smiling at me and saying he was so proud of me, and that “I did it!” We both can’t believe I did it without an epidural. Apparently during my hard labor I was also heard to say numerous times, “Pray for me” and “I don’t want to be a hero”. Well Mr. Man did pray for me, and ultimately I was a hero!

Holding my new baby in my arms was such a special treat after waiting so long. He hardly fussed and just seemed so utterly pure and perfect. My heart ached as it grew with the love for my newborn child. There are no words to describe the moments after bringing life into the world. No picture can truly capture the memory. It is awe-inspiring and truly a heavenly experience. One I am so grateful to have been blessed to experience.

My recovery after giving birth was immediate. I couldn’t believe how easy it was to get up and go to the bathroom. Baby has his first “bath” and we were soon moved to the postpartum ward and out of labor and delivery. Since I had gone to the bathroom twice, they were just about ready to take out my IV. I felt great, and it was only 6am. Still too early to call all our family and let them know the news, and so Mr. Man and I reveled in the time we had alone with our new baby. We were both extremely tired, however, and I ached for him as he pulled out the “couch bed” to attempt to sleep on. I told him to go home to bed, his response was “and sleep with Kara?” He did have a point. It would be nice to rest without ALL the kids around… and I will forever be grateful that he stayed.

Around 7am my recovery spiraled downwards quite quickly. I was resting and all of a sudden felt an immense amount of blood gush out of me. I waited a moment and then decided I was a little worried about how big the gush had felt, I decided (and was most likely prompted) to call the nurse. I calmly buzzed and told her that I thought I was bleeding a little more than I should be and could she come and check me.

Now first a little background on this poor young nurse. She was very young and we found out later had just completed her 6 week orientation and this was her very first shift. She had started at 6am. I’m sure she was given me since I had had such an “easy” short uncomplicated delivery, hadn’t needed any stitches, it was my fourth child and I probably wouldn’t be needing much. False pretenses. She came in to check on my and when she saw all the blood she started crying and got a little frantic and said, on her way out the door “No, that’s not normal at all – I’m going to get the head nurse”. I was still pretty calm, but turned to Mr. Man to wake him up and tell him that “she said this isn’t normal”. He sleepily rolled over and responded – “she’s getting the head nurse, you’ll be fine.”

Not only did my very upset and crying nurse arrive back with the “head nurse” but with 3 others as well. Five nurses started trying to calm me down (at this point I didn’t need to be calmed down) and clean me up. They were also working on massaging my uterus, which had become as soft (as one nurse put it)as mashed potatoes. At this point it should have been very hard. In an attempt to train my new young nurse, they put her in charge of the massaging. Probably a bad choice. I occupied my time watching her face and wondering if this was serious or if she was just a queasy nurse in the wrong profession. As she massaged I began to feel queasy and cold and the blood started to flow out of me faster than the nurses could keep up with. I was in pain and bleeding and bleeding. Tears flowed down my cheek and I clung to Mr. Man’s hand for dear life. There was one nurse there who just kept talking to me the whole time, and I focused on her words and her face – “I always get the bleeders! Wouldn’t you know I take on this extra shift, and here I get you! I know just how to take care of you, it’s not going to be a problem at all…” Apparently I was hemorrhaging. Soon I had lost more than 2 liters of blood – almost half of all of my blood and was being rushed into surgery. I was signing all sorts of forms giving permission for whatever may have to be done – hysterectomy, dilatation and curettage, you name it – a nurse held my hand to the paper and I scribbled something while she encouraged me that they were going to take good care of me. That’s about when the severe pain started on the right side of my abdomen. I told them I had major cramping, then it was burning and then the pain was about to make me scream when Brandy, a nurse who escorted me into surgery, brought me a drink (morphine) told me it would taste terrible and to drink it really fast. I did, and the pain stopped immediately. There seemed to be a lot of chaos all of a sudden and everyone was wearing a mask. I heard somebody say, “Kiss your wife goodbye” and then Mr. Man leaned in for what a part of me believed may have been our last kiss. I had tears streaming down my face and I told Brandy that this was exactly how my Dad’s Mother had died after his birth. She put an oxygen mask over my mouth wiped my tears and told me it was all going to be fine; and then I went to sleep.

When I awoke I was startled that I was really alright. Amidst feeling completely and utterly weak and freezing cold, I remember asking if my baby was okay – I was sure he had to be hungry again! I was brought back to the room with the Anne of Green Gables picture on the wall where I had given birth, and soon had about 8 or 10 warm blankets on me, tons of fluids and drugs being pumped into me and a catheter that had to be emptied as often as the fluids pumping into me changed! After months of being soooooo hot it was such an extreme change to feel so freezing cold. Word was that I would be needing a blood transfusion, and Mr. Man was hoping he could be the donor. I floated in and out of consciousness the rest of the day while Mr. Man made the phone calls to inform our family of our new arrival.

Later Dr. C visited. Amazingly my hemoglobin count was high enough that I wouldn’t need a blood transfusion. It would be tested again the next morning to be sure, but if all went well with my recovery, I would be just fine – weak, but fine. Dr. C explained that I had had a clot that had gotten in the way and prevented my uterus from contracting, and that had led to the hemorrhaging. My incision had had nothing to do with it, and ultimately there was no medical explanation for what had happened – it simply had happened. Bad luck, really. The hospital generally has two “bleeders” a year – and I got to be one of them! He had done a DandC and truly believed everything would be okay from that point on. Two days later when I was being discharged, Dr. C admitted that he had been rather scared for me. I chided him that I never would have guessed since he and everyone reacted so calmly and quickly. He responded that it never seems to go over well when the doctor starts screaming along with the patient! He also told me that even though I was young and healthy and ultimately a good candidate for choosing a home birth, had I not been in the hospital I would have bled to death on the way. I am so grateful that I was able to be in tune with my body and know to tell my nurse that something just didn’t feel right.

The “talk-a-lot” nurse came to visit me during my recovery also. She brought me a big bowl full of all sorts of candy bars (not quite appropriate for a nursing mother – but fun for my kids and husband!) She couldn’t believe how well I was doing and admitted that she hadn’t been sure if I was going to make it, with how much blood there was. (Again, great acting ability if you ask me – she seemed so in control of the entire situation!) She told me she went home after her shift and just prayed and prayed for me. She said she thought it was a miracle that I wasn’t in critical care, and even more astonishing that I wasn’t even going to need a transfusion. Again, my gratitude for being alive and well overwhelmed me. Somehow, for some reason, both my brother and I have, within the past month, been saved from death.

Truly giving birth is like walking through the valley of the shadow of death. My pale face and purple eyes reflect the reality of the situation. Every day I get stronger, and yet I am enjoying the slowness that is being truly insisted upon me. With bedrest I was forced to take things slowly, to leave things undone, and yet I was constantly annoyed and even angry with my situation. Now I am grateful and enjoying the many moments I have to hold my little one close, to do puzzles with my boys and read princess story after princess story to my little girl.

I can’t believe how different each one of my births have been. I am startled and amazed that I actually did this one without an epidural. I am no hero and I never wanted that to happen. (In fact, I still mostly wish it hadn’t!) But like my births, each of my babies have been so different. Each is such a unique spirit. We joke around the house now that Big J and Little E were our “loud” babies and Mr. T and Baby boy are the “quiet” ones! We are being blessed with such a good wonderful baby, and after all that it has taken to get to this point – that’s more than enough!