Mary Makes Babies

Sidney's Birth Story (Part Three)

Continued from Part Two...

The sensation of the epidural was a little odd. My lower half wasn't completely numb. I could still feel the sensations of my uterus contracting, for example, but the pain was totally gone. The pressure that began mounting once baby started to push her way down the birth canal was hard to ignore, but it didn't actually hurt anymore. I guess the best way to describe everything would be to call it surreal.

Shortly after my water was broken the doctor checked my cervix again to see if she could tell how far the baby had come down. This is when things really got interesting. I remember her looking concerned, then reaching in again and saying "I'm not supposed to feel a nose."

A nurse was called in to confirm the doctor's suspicions and yes, Sidney was situated face first in the birth canal. They called it "full facial presentation" but I've since heard it referred to more often as "sunny side up". They explained to me that this was a really rare presentation and that there was some danger involved. Baby was pretty much guaranteed to incur a fair amount of bruising (mostly facial bruising) on her way out which would also increase her risk for developing jaundice. Further, there was a concern about her neck being too stressed by delivery and her airway being compromised.

The big decision at hand was whether to keep trying for a vaginal delivery or to go for the emergency C-section. In this moment, I was pretty grateful that I had gotten the epidural because the thought of my baby being in any kind of danger already had me close to tears. If I had been going through crazy contractions while listening to this drama unfold I think I really might have lost it. Eventually Dr. Angry Hands was called back in to weigh in. Despite the fact that she had already traumatized me once before, she shoved her hands way up and knuckled my perineum yet again. Even with the epidural I could STILL feel how roughly she was treating my nether regions, so that says a lot.

Dr. Angry Hands decided that my pelvis was large enough to handle a sunny-side up baby and insisted that we try pushing before jumping to the C-section. I was very very nervous at this point and actually argued against the vaginal delivery at that point because I was just way too scared of anything happening to this baby to take even the slightest risk. She continued to insist, and so we compromised by agreeing to push for ten minutes. If no progress was made, or if the baby seemed at all in distress we would stop immediately and go for the c-section. I agreed, and on the next contraction started to push.

Her nose and mouth appeared after the very first push. A collective gasp escaped the room. My doctors, nurses, my sister who was acting as my doula, and my husband started to bustle around and shout encouraging words. Suddenly there were three times as many people in the room. I kept on pushing. Sidney's whole face popped out. My sister told me, in between contractions, how crazy it looked down there so I asked her to take a photo that would later blow my mind. 

Less than ten minutes later a tiny purple baby was plopped onto my chest. Just as I started to cuddle her close I heard someone yelling "clamp and cut! clamp and cut!" and suddenly she was gone - whisked away to a table across the room. I couldn't reach her. My legs were still numb and useless. My perineum had ripped almost all the way through, and I had just given birth. I was stuck where I was so all I could do was lay there listening for the sound of my baby crying. 

When that sound didn't come, I started to get really scared. Suddenly I remembered that my sister was nearby. I asked her what was happening. Was my baby ok? She tried to reassure me. I asked her to go take some photos for me. I hadn't even had any time to see her. Scott later told me that they had given her a breathing tube for the first five or so minutes of her life. Then they took it off and she wasn't breathing on her own, so they put it back on. When they tried the second time she was finally breathing, but she wasn't waking up. 

The doctors decided to try giving her back to me to see if she might perk up on her own before sending her to NICU. Luckily, she did. As soon as she got back to mama she started to root. I latched her on and she just kept nursing - for two hours!! She didn't end up going to NICU after all, and she even managed to avoid getting jaundice. 

All in all, my hospital birth experience was surprisingly great. I'd been nervous about it since I knew it would be SO different from Charlie's birth, but it ended up being pretty awesome. Even staying in the hospital was kind of wonderful. I was able to get plenty of sleep and spend two whole days doing nothing but caring for (and staring at) my new baby. Compared to being sent home just four hours after delivering Charlie this part felt utterly luxurious. I chugged water day and night, took showers whenever I wanted, and even had food delivered to my bed. 

I should also mention that the entire staff was incredible kind and helpful (besides Dr. Angry Hands who my vagina still has a grudge against.) A friend reached out to me a few days after Sid was born to check in on me and asked if I felt like the birth was traumatic. I thought about it for a moment and realized that for all the drama, it hadn't been. I actually felt pretty great! After Charlie's birth I suffered through insomnia, major anxiety, and PTSD style flashbacks. This postpartum period has been much kinder - just some migraines and vertigo! Both of which suck, but I'd take them over losing my mind any day.

Since birth, Sidney has had some more ups and downs. She was super sleepy for the first few days and on the borderline for jaundice. She also stopped gaining weight as quickly as she should AND has been breathing much more rapidly than is expected for a newborn. She ended up getting diagnosed with a double tongue tie (just like her brother) and we were luckily able to have it corrected right away. Since then she has gained really well, and her breath has become more regular once she hit her third week. If it works itself out before she hits two months we'll be in the clear, but if not she'll have to get her heart and lungs evaluated. 

The fun never stops with these babies, haha. Overall though, we are both doing well and falling more in love with one another every day. Thanks for listening to our story. More mama thoughts and baby stories coming at ya soon.

Sidney's Birth Story (Part Two)

Continued from Part One...

The induction started off around 11:45pm on May 30. The process started off with something called a balloon catheter. This fun little device gets inserted into your cervix then filled with saline. It is used to apply gentle pressure to both the inside and the outside of the cervix which encourages dilation. At first, it doesn't feel like much is happening, but after an hour or two the pain becomes reminiscent of extra spicy menstrual cramps - the kind that would keep you rolling around in bed and calling out of work. 

I also had an IV started, which involved a fair amount of drama since my veins are not too fond of being stabbed. They literally jump away when a needle comes toward them. I've seen it with my own eyes, and have been covered in bruises from blow out veins pretty much every time I get an IV. Naturally, I was nervous about getting stabbed repeatedly while the nurses tried to get one into my arm, but I did not expect the process to trigger a full-blown PTSD breakdown.

But it did. I cried. I hyperventilated. In short, I lost my shit completely as the poor nurse tried spot after spot then finally called in a backup. The second nurse was finally able to get the IV into my right hand, but it hurt SO much. We tried icing it, and I decided to give it some time to see if I could learn to cope with the discomfort. But by the next morning it was terribly sore, so much so that I couldn't use the hand at all. 

Speaking of that night. Here's how it went. I spent several hours pacing around the hospital room while the balloon did its thing, then when the cramps finally started to mellow out I crawled into bed and did my best to get some sleep. Unfortunately, the monitors on my belly kept going in and out all night, making staying asleep difficult as every half hour or so my nurse would have to come in and adjust something. I did sleep a little bit though, and soon enough morning arrived.

The Obgyn on duty that morning came in around 7:45 am and removed the balloon. After a quick cervical check she let me know that I was now dilated to 6, which she seemed to think was great. Now that I was dilated enough the petocin drip could get started and labor could begin. In order for that to happen, I needed that IV. I knew that getting through labor without the use of my right hand would really suck, so I asked the nurse to please find another place to stick it in.

While they tried to move the IV I lost it again, and the nurse thankfully stopped stabbing and called in another nurse who was trained to use lidocaine while starting an IV. After a short break to recover my emotions we tried it and it worked like a charm, and they were finally able to hook up the petocin.

The first few hours of petocin were no big deal. They started me on a very low dose to get things moving, then increased the dose a little bit every hour. The early contractions came pretty regularly, but they were never super painful. By the early afternoon they had started to become more intense, but even then they never lasted very long. I was able to cope with them by walking, bouncing up and down on a yoga ball, and breathing deeply when they hit. 

When they really started to ramp up I asked Scott to pull out his guitar and we spent an hour or so practicing all the songs we could think of. It had been part of my plan to sing the baby out, and this was one part that really did go exactly as I'd hoped. Singing not only took my mind off of the pain, it also helped me control my breathing without even thinking about it. I would definitely do this again and would recommend it to anybody who loves singing and making music. 

For the most part, this portion of labor went really well, but I ended up having another emotional meltdown when one of the doctors came in to give me a cervical check. Now I've had cervical checks before (I've had a whole baby before, in fact) but I was NOT prepared for what this woman did to me. She shoved her hand into me so fast and so hard that my entire body was shoved up in the hospital bed. I shrieked in pain and shock, and was clearly in distress, but she did not stop. Instead she kept right on going - shoving her fingers into my cervix, and digging her knuckles painfully into my perineum.

I cried my eyes out. It felt like I'd been assaulted. I couldn't catch my breath. I was shaking and crying and just basically a big mess for a while. Eventually I got  hold of myself again, but having two meltdowns in one day was already leaving me feeling exhausted and unhinged. It robbed my of my confidence and my courage, and for the life of me, I just couldn't get those things back after that.

The staff quickly concluded that I had some kind of PTSD triggering going on so they promised they would get a different doctor to do my checks after that and reassured me that she would perform the checks more slowly and more gently. I'll never understand why slow and gentle isn't the standard, but I dud appreciate them trying to accommodate my needs after my run in with "Dr. Angry Hands". 

At some point in the early afternoon the doctors began discussing how and when they would break my water. Since I had a lot of excess fluid around the baby there was a concern that if the water was broken too quickly baby could turn or twist the wrong way. Even with all the measures they had taken to induce labor, Sidney still wasn't as far down the birth canal as they would have liked. She wasn't fully "engaged" as they put it. So, they decided to break my water using a small needle, which would allow the liquid to drain slowly, letting the doctors try to guide baby down in the correct direction.

As soon as my water broke everything changed. I went from having consistent but bearable contractions to going almost out of my mind with pain. One minute I was bouncing on a ball singing Bob Dylan tunes and the next I was laying flat on my back trying to disconnect my mind from my body. It was the only way that I could find to cope with that amount of pain. The contractions were so intense and happening so quickly that I couldn't fathom trying to get up and move around or even reach up toward a squat bar. It felt like it was all I could do to just hang on and keep living. 

That's when I made a decision I never thought I would have made. I asked for an epidural. At first, nobody seemed to believe that I really did want one. My husband called for the nurse when I asked him to call the anesthesiologist. The nurse thought I was in transition. The chorus of voices surrounding my bedside just kept singing "are you sure? are you sure? are you sure?"

I was sure. And I tried to explain it as quickly and simply as possible. "I've been through enough.", I said. And it's true, I have been. Losing four babies in the past three years has taken a lot out of me. I've endured a huge deal of both physical and emotional pain, extreme stress, doubt, and fear. I didn't need to feel every moment of this birth. I was tired. I had been brave long enough that I didn't need to prove anything to anybody - not even myself.

Oddly enough, I came out on the other end of this experience feeling brave and feeling strong for being able to ask for the help that I needed when I did end up needing it. I was scared to get an epidural because I was scared of giving up control, of not seeing myself as the tough birth warrior that I wanted to be. But I was brave enough to put my pride aside and give myself what I needed to make it through, and THAT was badass. At least, it was if you ask me.

Getting an epidural is probably not particularly fun at any time, but getting one toward the end of active labor was pretty freaking intense. Scott kneeled in front of my while I sat up in bed, legs dangled over the side, with my back curled over my belly while the needles were put in place. The process took about ten (very very long) minutes, during which you are not allowed to move whatsoever. Ten minutes meant about twenty contractions at this point, and I spent every one of them holding on to Scott's shoulders and leaving my body for the calmer air space above us.

When it was finally done I laid back down and waited for it to kick in. It would be another ten or fifteen minutes, or another 20 - 30 contractions before it was fully in effect. Since my body often requires a little extra medicine to numb up, the anesthesiologist ended up having to up the dose after ten minutes or so. Finally, the medicine kicked in and I could no longer feel pain below my waist.

OK, so I lied. Continue on to Part Three, in which I actually have a baby! (For real this time.)

Sidney's Birth Story (Part One)

So it has been a while since I last posted. The third trimester ended up going by much quicker (and ending much sooner) than I had anticipated. I kept meaning to sit down and write about what was happening, but I always seemed to end up working or napping or nesting instead. 

To make a long story short, my frame of mind improved considerably after going back on anti-depressants. Thanks to my little happy pills I was able to cheer up and soldier on. Another huge step in the right direction was changing my Obgyn. I finally admitted to myself that I just couldn't get comfortable with the doctor I had been seeing and moved to an all-female practice recommended by my sister.

This ended up being the best decision I could have possibly made. My doctor at the new practice immediately recognized an iron deficiency that was making me feel like garbage, and got me on medication to treat the nausea that had been stopping me from eating and drinking enough to feel well. On top of all that, I finally felt like I was part of the conversation when it came to my pregnancy. Feeling respected and heard helped to make me feel safer and more confident as well. 

And... it's a good thing that I felt that way, because the last few weeks of this pregnancy ended up being full of surprises. My maternal fetal medicine doctor had warned me a while back that inducing early (at 38 weeks) was possible and that no matter how healthy everything looked he would not let me go past my due date. He joked that if I farted wrong he would make me have the baby. So, while I knew that delivering at 38 weeks was a possibility, I had kind of been expecting to get at least another week along before we actually induced. My blood pressure had been great, so what was the hurry, right?

At my 36 week Obgyn visit they told me that we would be inducing at 38 weeks after all. My cervix had already started to soften up and even though my blood pressure had remained in good shape, protein had started to appear in my urine and they felt like the safest thing to do would be to go ahead and have me give birth. I freaked out a little when it began to sink in that I would have to GIVE BIRTH in two weeks. I wasn't ready!! There was a bathroom to finish, a bedroom to paint, a month's worth of work to finish and schedule to pay the bills while I was recovering. Plus, I hadn't really started processing all the emotions necessary to deal with pushing a baby out of my body. But at least I had two more weeks to work on everything. Two more weeks!

When I visited my doctors the following week I found out that the induction would actually start the evening BEFORE I officially hit 36 weeks. That left me with one day less to prepare, and sent me reeling a bit. But the next morning when my Obgyn called I got thrown for an even bigger loop. The protein in my urine had increased and they didn't like the too-abundant amount of fluid around the baby. Instead of being induced next week, they wanted to start that night. I found out at ten in the morning and was asked to be at the hospital that evening at seven pm. 

OMG!! I tried my best to jam all of my panic away in the back closet of my mind and started making a list of things I needed to do in the next several hours. Call my mom, talk to my sister about watching Charlie, pack a hospital bag, write a birth plan, stick an  auto-responder on to my email account, cancel projects that were due that week, generally go crazy...

Somehow I managed to get it all done with enough time to spare to grab a quick dinner on the way to the hospital. Scott and I did our best to hash out our about to have a baby feelings over chips and salsa at a Mexican restaurant, then hopped in the car and headed to the hospital. We got a kick out of surprising our waitress. She asked when the baby was due, and I told her in about an hour. Her face! Haha.

We ended up arriving at the hospital right on time, which seemed miraculous considering I have been about 15 minutes late to EVERYTHING for the past two months. But then the nurse at the check-in desk forgot about us for 45 minutes and we ended up getting into our room about an hour late. Whoops! Luckily, no-one seemed too phased about adjusting the schedule, so there we were. The induction was officially underway around 10 pm. I'll share more details on that whole process in my next post.

Continue on for Part Two, in which I actually have a baby!