I was not expecting to be typing that for a little over a week. But I was never good with sticking to plans and it looks like my son feels the same way.
***warning this will be graphic, I am sharing the whole birth story****
Friday was like every other Friday after Thanksgiving. My father came by at about noon with my decaf ice coffee and left over turkey that I had forgotten at his house the night before. I heated it up, had some lunch and then went to take a nap.
I had lied down and was flipping and flopping for about 1/2 hour before I nodded off. I slept for about a half hour when I felt a gush of water. I ran to the bathroom thinking I lost all bladder control. No, that is not it. I do not have to pee, but the water kept coming. I looked in the toilet and there was some pink blood. HOLY SHIT. Breath. Okay what do I do. Oh, call the doctor.
I call and it is considered a holiday, no one was on and I got the messaging service. I tried speaking calmly to whoever answered. He asked me what my last name was and I forgot how to spell it, he asked for my hospital ID number, the one I have used for about 4 years now at every monitoring blood draw and appointment through IF and pregnancy... umm BREATH! Okay, I got through that. He tells me he will call the on call doctor and I should hear something in the next 10 minutes.
Next I call my mother and Scott. Yes, right now Scott is not letting me live it down that I called her first. But what is done is done. She is calming, been through it before, is a nurse and all that. Scott, when I called said "are you sure?" So yes, I called my mother to make sure I was sure.
My mother, father and Scott are both on their way to my house. I did not pack a bag, that was on the agenda for the weekend. So I go and try to get things together. All the while I am still leaking fluid and filling pads fast. My mom gets there and tells me to sit down. She attempts to fill the bag but can't find anything. I tell her I will do it, but she yells at me to sit. I listen.
Scott comes in about two minutes later. He then goes to finish packing the bag. He got the leash on the dog and gave the dog to my father so he could watch them. Then my mother, Scott and I head to the hospital.
Scott drops me and my mother out in front while he parks the car. We both tell him not to forget the bag. As we walked in I kept feeling more gushes of water. Honestly, it amazes me how much water was in there! In the elevator it felt as though my pants were soaked. I was looking at my mother rolling my eyes as people were piling on the elevator. How embarrassing, but hell you are never going to see me again!
I go to triage and get undressed, at this point it is 3:30 in the afternoon. They told me not to wear underwear, but did not put anything absorbent on the bed. I am done caring at this point and just get undressed and hop on the bed. Scott comes in and then a couple of minutes later a midwife comes in to check for amniotic fluid. As she said, there is not doubt. So she sends us down to the delivery room. The nurse greats us and tells us it was slow this weekend so we have the "VIP room". It is a pretty large room with great views of the city skyline and Charles River. But, if I was Giselle and Tom Brady, I think I would expect more. But alas, I am not so I am just glad they had more then one reclining seat so my mom and Scott can both get comfy.
I lie on the bed and get an IV and attached to the baby monitors. I still can not feel contractions, but according to the monitor I am definitely having them. The doctor then comes in and explains how they will monitor my blood pressure and if it goes to high they will give me magnesium to lower it. He also tells me that because my water broke, they would like me to deliver in less the 24 hours to prevent the risk of infection to both myself and Dillon. He said he would watch labor for the next couple of hours, but if things didn't progress he would give me a drug to speed up the contractions. He said the drugs will be administered slowly and most likely we would not be seeing much progress until the morning, so he told me to get some rest.
So the next hour was pretty uneventful I asked Scott for the bag... he forgot it in the car. He also forgot the camera! We always forget the camera! We agreed that he could make it to home and back before anything happened. So he leaves.
At about 7pm the doctor decided to start the contraction drugs. I told him I wanted to wait until Scott was back and he should be here any minute. He agreed to wait, but told me to tell the nurse as soon as he walked in. The nurse came in and started to prepare everything. She told me to sit up in a chair for a bit, because once the drug was in, they would want me to stay in bed. I went to the bathroom, rocked in the chair and waited for Scott to come back.
In he walked, the nurse called the doctor, the doctor came and looked over everything and administered the drug. He also took my blood pressure, which was not bad, all things considering, 152/78.
I felt my first contraction about 10 minutes after the drug was in the IV. It was mild, but I felt it. A big change from the past couple of hours. I was feeling it every 10 -15 minutes to begin. Then steadily at 10 minutes, 8 minutes, 5 minutes. Mostly the pain was in my back. It felt as though I was sitting on a knife stabbing me in the back repeatedly. At about 10pm, I looked at my mother and said I really would like the epidural. She told me, that it would be a long night if I had the epidural now. The nurse came in and said I looked really uncomfortable and she would be able to get me something to help me relax in between contractions. I agreed to take that and it did help for about an hour. I was able to nod off in between the contractions but it was not enough. I begged my mother again for the epidural. Again she said she didn't think it was time.
Scott, by the way, was my silent rock. He was there holding my hand, giving me water and making silly jokes because he was nervous. Oh and eating all the Italian Ice.
At about 11pm the doctor came in to check my progress. He did an internal and he said "oh my, you are 90% effaced already" At that point, I said "It isn't too late for the epidural is it" ... No, thank God! So they called the anesthesiologist to get it all started.
Let me tell you! I never ever ever would have been able to make it through without this wonder drug. I am by far a wimp, but why go through torture when you don't have to!
So with the epidural in, we began pushing. But after the first set of pushes the contractions slowed down, so the doctor decided to give it an hour for more steady contractions. I took a nap and prepared.
At about midnight I started my 3 hours of active pushing. I could not feel my right leg and not move it at all, my left leg had some feeling to it so I could at least lift it when it was time to begin the pushes. Scott was frozen at the start of everything. He had no idea what to do. In hind sight, I probably should have signed us up for birthing classes, just for his sake but what was done was done. My mother started coaching me, Scott paced back and forth.
I pushed and I pushed. I napped in between contractions. I got cold flashes and hot flashes, I threw up and I bled. All the time though my blood pressure stayed pretty low. About an hour into it, Scott finally figured out what to do. During a push all of a sudden out of no where he screamed "come on Krissy push you can do it!"... Of course I laughed instead of pushed because it was not expected at that point. He then took over for my mother and did a pretty great job. Rubbing my back and my head, getting me water. He was amazing!
All that pushing and Dillon was not moving. He was also face up. The doctor said he could try to turn him which may help the progression. So in she went to try to turn him. She did fairly quickly and we began pushing again. She mentioned forceps, but I wanted to try on my own. Still nothing after another hour of pushing. At about 2:30, the doctor again suggested forceps. She said she could see the head, and it could be over in no time if we used the forceps. At that point I was spent both emotionally and physically and wanted to meet my son, so I agreed.
They called in the anesthesiologist to boost the epidural so I would not feel the forceps. They then set everything all up with clamps and all the doctors piled in the room waiting for Dillon's arrival. After 2 pushes the doctor said "next one, give me a nice big push and you can meet your son". At that point I busted out in tears and gave it my all. Out he came... and not crying!
I was looking over at the pediatricians and could not see what they were doing. I sent Scott over and he watched then came back and said it was okay, but I still could not hear him cry. My mother was watching and I was trying to read her facial expressions. All the while I was being sutured up. Everything seemed to be taking forever... until I heard it, I heard him cry!
The wrapped him up and I got to hold him for 1 minute and then the whisked him away again. All this and I was still being sutured. "How many stitches are there?" I asked... "Oh we don't count" Turns out I have a third degree laceration and far too many stitches to count, but pain meds are a wonderful thing!
I kept asking about Dillon and everyone assured me he was fine but because it was such a traumatic birth he would need some air just for a while. He was in shock, but at 35 weeks he should be just great.
He was on a respirator for 24 hours and is now breathing room air. He seems to be doing great, but they need to get him to feed a little first before going home. I am being discharged in the morning. He most likely will be here for another couple of days.
I am actually healing pretty well. Sore and swollen and bleeding (although that has let up a lot). But it was all worth it. Every ounce of pain I feel is worth it when I hold Dillon or see Scott holding him.
Dillon, Mom and Dad on his 2 day old birthday, respirator free and a little bruised from being face up.
PS - Thanks Flower for helping me fix the cutoff picture!
