Courage

dear heart.

For a long time I have struggled with wether or not to write this. When I went into the birth of my first born child, I had no expectations. I understand this is the best way to enter these situations--without expectations. If I'm honest with myself and with everyone else...that is the one thing that I have been most thankful for throughout the birth experience and in coming to terms with it after the fact. It's what I fall back on, because I can't imagine the place I would have been in had it been the other way.

I would also like to add that at 2 months post partum, I am in a much better place. Hormonally, I'm more balanced and life is so good with my precious ginger muffin (he'll hate me for that later). 

THE ROYAL BIRTH STORY

October 6, 2014: 

The one shining thing that I will remember about this day, is that it was Moe Monday. Moe Monday is Tomato's absolute favorite day of the week. You can get a burrito (of any size), chips, salsa and a drink for $5.99. We sat in the back of the restaurant because it's always so busy on Moe Monday. We talked in length about the the next day being Henry's due date and the fact that I had felt absolutely NO contractions or signs of them my entire pregnancy. I was absolutely sure that I was going to be one of these women who had to wait a year after the due date to have the kid. I was miserable, but glad to be sharing whatever time was left with my husband. After dinner, we went to Wal-Mart and the Dollar Tree because I was in search of planner goodies, because I love my planner. By the time we got to the Dollar Tree I was starting to feel some aching in my back, nothing that really jumped out and said "Hey! You're going to have a baby soon!"

I will never forget, Timmy looked at me and said: "I think it's going to be tonight."

October 7, 2014

0030: I have been binging on Netflix, specifically Pretty Little Liars (ya'll Ezra is a super creep. All I'm saying is that he PURSUED a 15 year old girl and nobody thought that was weird?!). Tomato went to bed hours before that, because like most of the working world--he had to work the next morning. Anyway, I got up to pee in the middle of an episode. I do my thang, go to wipe and I can't stop peeing. I finally finish...stand up...and I'm peeing again. So, I look at the scene of the crime. I had lost my mucous plug (I'll spare you the details, trust me on that one) and I was leaking. I could feel my breathing get faster. Holy water broke and I still didn't have any clue who "A" was.

I proceed to waddle down the hallway like a pregnant ninja in hopes that I won't mess up the carpet. I get to the master bathroom, find a pad (yes, birth is gross and it just gets worse), strap that thing on and start yelling for Tomato. We get dressed and I begin shaking like a leaf. It's time. Holy crapoley. I'm going to be a mother. Surreal doesn't even begin to describe how I felt at that moment. Our last few moments as a married couple were spent packing the car with hospital bags. The entire way to the hospital my husband held my hand and smiled at me. There wasn't a cloud in the sky.

0100: We arrive to the hospital. Tomato parks at what we think is the entrance. We get to the door and it won't open. So, we go the the next entrance down...which also doesn't open. Finally we get to the ER entrance (thankfully the door opens) where a nice security guard rolls me back to the labor triage area. At this point, we're laughing and carrying on at the absurdity of my being in labor and not being able to enter the hospital.

When we get to triage we meet one of the nurses, she looks at me skeptically, obviously sizing me up. She doesn't think my water really broke. She asks me to stand up, go in the bathroom, get naked (including my underwear and the dam holding in my child's amniotic fluid) and put on a gown that shows off my hiney. She asks me to pee in a cup and then call her in there. I do as I'm told (with the exception of the pee in the cup part...because all that came out was baby juice) and call her into the bathroom where I'm standing very vulnerably while she attempts to get a drop of amniotic fluid on a litmus paper to prove to herself that I am ignorant and don't know what "water breaking" actually is. Finally, I ask her to turn around and look at the cup I peed in. She does. Then, I'm back in the chair and into the L&D suite. I told her.

When we get there, we are asked the battery of questions to include the name of my first pet and what I had for breakfast 5 years ago to the day. Kidding...maybe. I am silently judged for not taking any birthing classes or picking a pediatrician before coming to the hospital (the military assigns our pediatrician). I have no idea how anyone ever had a baby before birthing classes. By this time, I'm already feeling like a mother failure. Then, I made the cardinal mistake of all mistakes. I told this woman that I was a nurse. NEVER. DO. THAT. The reply I got was something like this, "Well I hope you don't think you can touch my machines or your IV fluids." Ummmmmm. What?! I promptly reply that I don't know how to do her job, so no worries on that.

She then "checks" me and I'm at 2cm. I don't feel any contractions at this point. She tells me to get some rest. Timmy makes necessary phone calls to parents...and we settle down. No sleeping was to be had, mind you. I'm about to give birth to a child, you know.

0800: The morning shift RN comes in. She is awesome. I love her. She is not as judgy as the night shift nurse.

This is the first time I see a physician. I have been at the hospital for 7 hours. My contractions aren't bad, mild really. Kind of like menstrual cramps. The doctor wants to check me. OK. 

HOLY HELL FIRE. I'm sitting in the bed, preparing to be checked and the pain of a thousand suns swells inside me as he is "checking" me. I'm writhing. This is unbelievable. 

He tells me, "I can't really tell how far you've progressed because you're squirming all over the place." 

Well, I'm sorry sir.

"Maybe this will be better after your epidural. I believe you're at 2 cm, but I can't be sure."

"Well, when should I get the epidural?"

"I'm going to start you on pitocin. Your water broke at home, so we want to deliver the baby as quickly as possible (within 24 hours) to reduce the risk for infection. So, go ahead and get the epidural."

"I mean, it's not too soon?"

"No."

10 minutes later, there is an anesthesiologist at my bedside. 

That was fast.

0900: The anesthesiologist preps me. They kick my husband out. I'm deathly afraid of needles. This guy is going to paralyze me. I just know it.

"Stay really still."
"Yes sir (you should be really polite to physicians with long needles who presume to penetrate your spine)."
"I'm going to stick now. You'll feel some pressure."
"Yes sir."
"Okay, I'm finishing up back here."
"Yes sir."
"OH MY GOD. OH MY GOD."
"What, what's happening?" *wiggles toes, considers sobbing*
"Oh, nothing. I just got a page to surgery. Some guy swallowed at toothpick."
*waves of relief flood my brain.*

The nurse is looking at this man like he's done lost his mind. He leaves the room. Nurse profusely apologizes. I consider crying again.

"Please just get my husband back in here, okay?"
"Yes ma'am."

1000: I am the proud owner of a patient controlled epidural at only 2 cm dilated. Yes, just 2 cm. I'm stewing in the happiness that I just may get through labor without ever feeling a single painful contraction.

I sit in bed, I chat with family. Tomato is making the round, he eats breakfast. I get ice chips. I'm watching the contractions on the toco-monitor and I'm loving life. I'm only mildly anxious at this point because of all the baby things surrounding me.

Then, the baby's heart rate keeps dipping into the 90's- low 100's. The nurse asks me to turn this position...then minutes later...to another position. Then, they adjust and readjust the monitor. At this point, I'm getting a wee concerned that something isn't right. The keep assuring me that he isn't showing decelerations (which are bad) and that his heart looks good, that it's just slow. So, they lay me on my back (have you ever been 10 months pregnant and laid on your back?! No bueno. It sucks. It's stupid. I can't breathe.). The baby likes me on my back. On my back I stay for the rest of labor.

Then, a whole lot of nothing happens. I laugh with family members and watch "How I Met Your Mother" reruns. All is right in the world. I feel okay. I'm happy. My baby will be here soon.

1700: What is this discomfort I'm having to the left side of my body? Holy shitoke mushrooms, I'm having contractions. I can feel them. What is going on?

*Pushes button for more epidural juice and continues on with life*

OUCH. *pushes nurse button*
"Yes ma'am."
"I'm feeling contractions."
"Just push your button."
"I have."
"Okay, the nurse will be right in."

Nurse comes in.

"Let's just switch positions again. Sometimes the medication settles strangely."
"Okay."

1800: I HAVE PUSHED THE BUTTON ABOUT  120384235479 TIMES. NOTHING IS HAPPENING. THIS PAIN IS GETTING WORSE. MY BODY IS BREAKING.

The nurse comes back in. She puts a page in to anesthesia. She agrees that something doesn't seem right.

1815: A medium sized man comes strolling in my room. He's wearing jeans and open-toe sandals. He has two vials in his hand. He tells me that he is the on-call anesthesiologist. He asks me my name. I tell him. I want the vials.

He gives me mystery medication. After the medication is administered he tells me that he's just given me fentanyl and lidocaine.

Immediate relief rolls over me.

He then informs me that I am becoming tolerant of the epidural and that I should have not gotten it so soon.

Ummmm....

1845: The pain returns with the magnitude of a million zillion suns. I have never experienced anything like this. My body is crushing. Crushing. Why has no one checked me? I must be dialated to 20 cm by now.

The nurse checks me...I'm at 8cm. Where is my doctor?

The nurse calls the anesthesiologist back.
He is wearing scrubs this time.

He gives me another dose of medication.

"I'm not coming in here every hour to give you this medication."
"But, I'm in labor. I'm 8 cm. It can't be too much longer now."
"We'll have to reevaluate this situation if you call me again."
"Yes sir."

1915: The judgey nurse is back. I beg my day shift nurse to stay. Pain. She promises she'll be back tomorrow to meet the baby.

The contractions are back. I'm pushing the dang button with every breath I take. Pain. Crushing me. I remember holding Tomato's hand and thinking that I was probably pulverizing it. Ms. Linda is at my back rubbing it, trying to give me some relief. I am in agony.

The anesthesiologist hasn't come back. OR the nurse hasn't paged him. I'm not sure which.

Ms. Linda gets mad and wants to cuss everyone out. Pain. Apparently, I'm the only one in labor on the whole floor. There are no other patients. Just me.

Where is my doctor? So much pain. Why is my body betraying me? Where is my doctor?

2030: The doctor finally makes his appearance. He checks me. I'm in agony. He asked me what happened with the epidural. I told him that the anesthesiologist said he wouldn't give me anymore medication. My doctor informs me that he will have a "chat" with him about that. I agree with that plan.

I am 9cm. I'm happy, because I know that it must be almost over now. Soon, I'll be holding my son and this will have been just a memory.

2045: My doctor is back. He asks everyone in the room to leave.

What is wrong? Is something wrong with my baby? I know his heart is still slow. Every bad thought I have ever had could not equate to that moment. I made a deal with God that he could give me as much pain as He would like, just let my baby be okay.

He sits down. Timmy and I are waiting for what he might say.

"Well the nurse said you were at 8 cm blah blah hours ago. Blah, blah, blah curve, blah blah blah. Your water broke, blah blah blah. His head is blah blah blah. Can't pass, blah blah blah. The safest route...blah blah blah. C-section."
"Whatever needs to happen to make sure he's safe!"
"Well we'll prep the team then."

I just remember looking at Timmy and thinking at that moment that I must have some how failed my child. I never had a plan, but I guess I just thought that everything would end up normally and perfect. That I would be able to have him naturally. That my husband would cut the cord and that we would be together as a family in the moments after his birth. No one there but the three of us (and the medical team) just learning each other and being together.

I'm a ball of emotion. I don't understand what's happening because I am in so much pain. They took the epidural completely out. The pitocin is still going. Why am I still on pitocin if I'm having a c-section? I bring this to the nurse's attention and she takes it down about 15 minutes later. I'm sobbing.

I ask Timmy to go to the waiting area to tell everyone. I can't do it. I can't say the words. I have no idea why I'm so devastated. I didn't have a plan. I'm just so tired and in so much agony.

I just kept apologizing to everyone.
I'm told to stop apologizing. I can't help it.
I'm sorry. I don't know any other feeling besides sorrow and pain in that moment.

2115: We are wheeled to the operating room. The whole way there I'm feeling a burning agonizing pain in my nether parts. I have never felt anything like it before. I feel like I'm going to go number 2 all over the place. I tell the nurse. She tells me that it's just his head bumping against my pelvis. That his head can't pass.

"Yes ma'am. I'm sorry."

They make Tomato stay and sit in a chair while the prep me.

I feel like they throw me onto the surgery table. The team forces me to a sitting position. The CRNA sticks me in the back again with a very large needle. I'm so weak that I can't hold myself up. I'm going to be paralyzed. I swear it. I don't even care.

The doctor passes me. Joking in an attempt to find some relief, I jest:

"You know what I want more than anything when this is over?"
"What's that?"
"A Diet Coke."
"Really? I thought you would want your baby."
"I'm sorry. Yes sir."

They lay me back down. The nurse uses a doppler to try to locate the baby's hearbeat. It takes a long time. I feel like it's been a long time. She found it. He's okay.

They start cleaning my belly and hanging drapes. WAIT. I feel the wet. I feel the cold. I can feel everything. I begin crying again.

"I can feel everything."
"Just give it a minute."
"I'm sorry."
"Quit apologizing."
"Yes ma'am. I'm sorry."
They're still cleaning me.
"I can still feel it."
"There's no way."
*I move my legs as hard as I can."

The tear down the drapes and remove the ones from my belly. I'm thrusted into a sitting position again.

The barefoot anesthesiologist is there and sticks me again. Thankfully, he gets it. I feel my feet starting to go numb. The doctor is cleaning again. I can't feel it. Thank God. He starts cutting...WAIT! Where is my husband?

They go get him. When he comes in the room I am dry heaving. I told the CRNA that anesthesia makes me deathly ill. She gives me 4mg of Zofran. I ask for 4 more. She refuses. I'm going to be puking when my baby makes his entrance. This is not what I imagined.

I can't breathe.
I literally can't breathe. I struggle to tell Tomato that I can't breathe.

The anesthesiologist informs me "If you're talking, you're breathing. You need to get it together."
"Yes sir. I'm sorry."

I tell Tomato that I'm going to die. That I can't breathe. I imagine what it will be like to be awake when they are coding me. Gradually I can feel the paralytic moving back down to where it belonged. Later, I learn that they must have overdid it.

Someone yells for me to look up. I do.

2157: In an instant my world crumbles and spontaneously builds up again. I still can't breathe, but it's because he took my breath away. I can't see his face. But, I can hear his voice. I tell Tomato to look up, he was looking at me. He looks up and I can see the tears roll down his face behind his surgical mask. I just want to touch him. I just want to hold my little baby.

They take him to be warmed up and checked out by the pediatrician. I tell Tomato to go with them. The CRNA gives me propofol and I drift off to sleep.

I wake up when they are closing me up. I'm rolled to recovery.

In recovery, Ms. Linda meets me. My baby is not there and neither is my husband. I learned that everyone got to see and meet my baby before I did. I can't explain the need to be with him and the jealously I felt.

What seemed like hours later, Tomato walks in the door holding a little bundle. He starts crying. That's when I meet him. My beautiful Henry James is 8.2 lbs and 21 inches long.

AFTERWORD

There are many events that happened even after Henry's arrival. To include his sugar dropping, some thankfully nominal heart issues that threatened him being transferred to MUSC, threats of putting me on depression medication...and the list continues.

My birth experience wasn't great. The afterward was just as fantastic. As I said before, I struggled with even writing this. I had many feelings. First and foremost was the feeling of disgust at myself for being depressed about the experience. I am home with my baby, I knew that there were many mothers who didn't get to bring theirs home. There are many mothers who are holding the hand of their child while they fight for their lives in the NICU. I was so incredibly lucky to have my son. Now that I've prayed and thought and talked to others about it, I can deal with it. I've come to the conclusion that I can't punish myself with the thoughts of how everything went wrong, but instead, focus on what was right. It wasn't perfect, but it was Henry's story.

I have Timmy. I have Henry. I have everything.

Thanks to Nadia Hurtt Photography for the wonderful birth photos.

Quote of the Day by C.S. Lewis