This is going to be a long post, but it's something I'm doing for myself as well. I want to keep all the details of what took place during our delivery. It was life changing. I have a lot to be thankful for and I do not ever want to forget what happened. I am hoping this may help someone else in the future as well.
It was 12:45am on Monday morning, November 18th. I got up to use the bathroom, laid back down, and felt the urge to go again. By the time I got down the hall, the pad I was wearing (as I had been wearing them for a few days anticipating a water leak) was soaked. C-Bug (my nickname for her), had been playing havoc on my bladder for a few days. A week earlier I was concerned my water was leaking and she was just dancing on the bladder making me pee myself. Fun times.
I went back to my resting spot on the couch and continued to feel the wetness over the course of the following hour. I went up and down the hall to use the bathroom. I walked back and forth through the kitchen trying to figure out if I was truly leaking amniotic fluid or not. Eventually I walked outside and started walking on the porch.
Let me back up a minute here. Earlier in the evening I was so stressed from the stomach flu (see my earlier post), the tests I would go through the upcoming week, and the cheer competition my 8 year old daughter would be in that next weekend. I am also a coach for her cheer squad and have been teaching the competition dance (yes, at 9 months pregnant; I'm an over achiever.) I had been so worried about teaching the girls the remaining part of the dance, making sure they have everything they need, etc, that I was making myself sick. I just really wanted to make it through the competition. I finally realized how silly I was being. I prayed. I asked God to forgive me and finally let it go into his hands. I said, God, if it's your will I know I'll go tonight. I can't worry about cheer leading any longer, it will all work out. May your will be done in my life Lord, take these worries away. I immediately felt better.
Back to walking the porch. I stopped and looked up at the night sky. FULL MOON. All I could do was burst into laughter. Now the question was, do I wake up my husband? How long should I wait. No contractions yet, no bloody show. Was I entering labor?
I laid back down about 2 am, and my husband was waking up. I told him what was going on but I wasn't sure if I was in labor or not. Then, contractions started. Over the next hour I had 5 contractions. The rule was if you have 6 in an hour, call the doctor. So I told my husband to call his dad to come sit with our other two children and we should just go and be checked out. On the way to the hospital, I had two more contractions fairly close. We were fairly sure this was it.
After being checked in and let them examine me, it was confirmed my water had broken. It was 3:35 am. However, the contractions stopped. So we waited, with the option of starting Pitocin whenever I was ready to. I really did not want to be induced with Pitocin, it makes the contractions so painful. Not to mention, I was finally getting my appetite back from having the stomach flu and I was starving. Food was not an option. At some point I did talk them in to letting me have some jello, which was honestly just enough to piss me off. :-) If I would have known how long it was going to be I would have stayed home and had a good meal!!
Phone calls were made but we told everyone not to rush. It looked like this one was not going to be any quicker than the other two deliveries were. (13 hours with my first born, 11 with my second.) It was between 8-9am that my contractions started back. I was approaching 9 hours since my water broke so they really wanted to start the Pitocin. Grudgingly I let them, and requested my epidural within a half hour after that. Thank the Lord the doctor was in the hospital already and I didn't have to wait. I had been forewarned that if he wasn't there, it could be an hour or more.
The nurses complimented me on how I breathed through the contractions, encouraged me that I was doing a good job. The Pitocin was on the slowest drip possible so it was mainly all me with the contractions. By the time the doctor was in there, I was about to break the bed frame. They told me to sit up and lean over the rolling hospital table so they could get the epidural started. It took a few minutes but I finally managed and with the support of my husband, I stayed as still as a statue, even during contractions. My husband, nor the doctor, could believe I could manage to be so still while injecting me with numbing medicine and then the (apparently huge-although I've never seen it) epidural needle. Mind over matter.
Within just a few minutes I was pain free and watching the monitor to see when I was having contractions. They checked my cervix and I was at a 4. A short time later I was checked again and jumped from a 4 to a 6 while they were checking me. In no time I was at an 8. But, just like my other two babies, stayed that way for a while.
Her heart rate would drop some when I had a contraction so they decided to pump me full of fluid by iv and through my cervix. My husband and I talked about how she was doing the exact same thing as our first born. Not enough fluid, umbilical cord getting pinched somehow during contractions. It was identical. We were watched carefully for several hours.
My mom arrived, his mom came over on her lunch break, and his dad was there. Although his dad bolted for the waiting room when my contractions really started and I was in pain (prior to the epidural). About 3pm my mom called his mom to come back over, we were getting close. As I'm laying there listening to the moms and my husband talk, I'm watching her heart rate and contractions on the monitor. For her heart rate, it needed to stay in the blue area of the monitor. There was a pink line above and below showing if it got too high or too low. Finally, the entire heart monitor turned pink. I told the parents to get ready, the nurses and doctors were on their way. (The nurses watched the monitor from their station outside). Sure enough, here comes the whole team.
The bed was dropped and I was checked. The moms were encouraged to head for the door, as my husband and I had always agreed it was just to be the two of us during delivery. His mom begged to stay. At that point I didn't care if the Pope and President was there, it was time for her to come out. But by our wishes it was just my husband and I. It's bad enough for him to see me go through what I did, and I really didn't want anyone else to witness it. I also didn't know how aggressive I would get and the last thing I would want is to hurt some one's feelings.
I was just at a 9, and like my first born, I pushed to get to a 10. I managed to only say one cuss word during the whole ordeal. 50 minutes of pushing later, my teeny tiny, 4 pounds 13.6 ounce baby girl finally made her appearance. She was so stubborn! The nurses said she was in need of a spanking when she got here. She kept going back further with every push. But she made it and she was beautiful. Born at 4:29pm.
My doctor let me hold her while she worked on removing the afterbirth. I asked her if everything was okay and she smiled and assured me it was okay. She said she would just give it a little time. A half hour later though, she told me we would need to do a DNC to remove it as the placenta was just breaking apart.
The family was let in, along with my other two babies (who we sent on to school that day and were anxiously awaiting her arrival). I was shaking so badly everyone asked if I was cold. Strangely, I didn't feel cold but I shook like it. My nurse, (who was freaking awesome by the way) told us it was called Labor Shakes. As soon as the placenta was out it should stop. I finally had to ask one nurse to take my baby because I was terrified I was going to hurt her as bad as I was shaking. She took her and had my oldest daughter participate in bathing her for the first time. She was so patient with my oldest, explaining everything to her and answering all her questions.
During this time, the doctor had me sign my second form for a possible blood transfusion. They had me sign one with my original paperwork when I first got there, but now I had to sign one again, along with the forms for the DNC. It was also explained to me that in worse case scenario, I would have to have a hysterectomy. I had to sign forms for that as well. I'd love to see those papers now and compare my signature to my first forms. I was shaking so bad I could hardly hold the ink pen.
I asked my doctor, if it is a DNC, how long will it take. About a half hour.
If you have to do a hysterectomy, how? Will I be cut? How long will the surgery last?
My doctor, (a female thankfully and the best one), smiled and assured me if it was surgery, it would be a bikini cut and would take about an hour. But she really didn't think she would have to do a hysterectomy and was going to see if the surgeon would let me stay awake with the epidural.
Something just didn't set right with me. Call it my subconscious. I told everyone I loved them and wanted out of the room away from my kids fast. I didn't want them to see me as I started to fall apart. I cried the entire ride to the OR and kept my eyes closed. I didn't want to watch the ceiling lights go by above me. I was beginning to feel like I was in one of the episodes of the dramas on tv. Once in the OR, the surgeon told me that he felt more comfortable if he put me under. That way if things went the wrong direction, they wouldn't have to start over.
In the OR, they transferred me to the operating table. I have to say that was one of the strangest and scariest feelings I have ever experienced. I was crying so hard I could hardly breathe. They put the mask on me to put me under and started fighting it off. I felt like I was being smothered. Then I was out.
I woke up in the recovery room some time later. I tried opening my eyes but they didn't want to cooperate. I remember even using my hands to hold my eyes open. I asked the nurse if I had a hysterectomy but she seemed hesitant to answer, so I asked her what time it was. It had been over three hours so I knew what the answer was.
Hysterectomy, at 36. What I would later find to be called Peripartum Hysterectomy.
The information I received over the next 24 hours would be shocking and overwhelming. I'll explain more in my next post.
Amy
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