6.17.06
Day Three and counting
Well, someone must have forgotten to tell me that the world does not stop turning when you fall in love.
The past few days have been moments of awe, of love, of complete disbelief at times, and of course, of baby farts. I have been digesting and rehashing the birth in my head and came to a conclusion last night. I found deep within myself a strength that I did not know existed. I am both proud and amazed at myself and at Steve, who was beyond amazing during the whole labour.
I look into those slate blue eyes of my child and am overcome by this feeling of protectiveness. People told me how I would feel this surge of love and of worry at her every movement and although I expected it, it still constantly surprises me.
Yesterday was a long day, with a hungry baby who was frustrated because my milk had not come in. She nursed from seven in the morning until two in the afternoon at which time we decided to take her to the park and for a drive so she could fall asleep and my nipples could get a break. Last night when she woke to nurse, my milk had finally come. As she sucked and her mouth filled with milk and she would squeal in protest at this new event all the while never letting go. Eventually she settled down, sucked some more, gave a big satisfied burp and fell asleep.
I was admitted to the hospital Monday night because my blood pressure was so high all day. They offered to induce me that night but I told the OB I wanted to sleep for the night. She put some gel on my cervix and the next morning I turned her away when she asked to break my water, because as long as my midwife was the one to break them, I could stay under her care. She arrived and we went over to Labour and Delivery where she broke my water at ten after nine. The contractions started at about nine twelve. They surprised me with their intensity and frequency, and by ten when my midwife came back, they were lasting for a minute and only about thirty seconds apart. She hooked me up to an IV and said that once I got past four centimeters, the contractions would probably slow down. Turns out, she was wrong.
By the time two in the afternoon rolled around I was about six centimeters, but coping well. We had tried walking and rocking and the shower, and in all honestly, the absolute worst part of the whole ordeal was the pelvic exams. I told myself to remember how the pain felt so that I could really describe it afterwards. And yet, the moment I saw Leila, all of the descriptions I had come up with in my mind vanished.
By mid-afternoon, I was exhausted and we tried some gas, which made me feel terrified and out of control. Then I decided that I wanted an epidural. I have preached against them previously, and worried that if I broke down and got one I would regret my decision. But for me, at the time, it was absolutely the right choice. Once it kicked in, I got some rest for a few hours. My care had been transferred at this point, but my midwife stuck around the whole time. Steve went to get something to eat and I tried to sleep.
Around nine at night I was about nine centimeters. And still nine at ten. The OB came in and told me that the baby had her head turned and was not putting enough pressure on my cervix to continue dilating it. She said that we would try some Pitocin, but if I was not fully dilated by midnight, we were going to have to seriously consider a section. She left and they hooked my up to yet another IV. Steve sat beside me and held my hand while I cried. I was scared and upset and worried about the baby. They tried to turn her but her heart rate dropped. The OB came back in at eleven and I was fully dilated, but her head had not moved positions. She told me to rest for an hour and we would start to push at midnight. I fell asleep, relieved, but determined that no one would cut this child out of my body.
The nurse came in at midnight and we started. My midwife was amazing, coaching me and encouraging me. We pushed for an hour to no avail. Her head would come down as I pushed and risk right back up under my pubic bone after each contraction. When the OB came in to check, she told me that if we could just get her a little farther down the worst case situation would be to use forceps. She left and I kept pushing and pushing and pushing. Steve held a towel and stood between my legs while I pulled on it with each contraction. It helped a lot and we started to make some progress. They saw a little bit of head and shouted encouragement. My midwife kept stretching my perineum in between each contraction. They tried to turn the head again to no avail. The OB came back and kept her hand on the head to keep it in place between contractions. Eventually more and more of the head started to show and the last forty-five minutes (according to Steve, it actually felt like about twenty) is when everything started to happen. The head crowned and they paged the NICU team (because there had been meconium in the water). Even though the baby had been doing great the whole labour, it is the hospital policy. I kept trying to push her out before they got there so that the midwife could take her, but those guys are pretty quick.
Finally her head crowned (which, ow) and one more push (or a couple I cannot remember) and there she was, pink and crying and alive and finally here, at two twenty two am on June 14.
I watched the birth in the mirror between my feet and it was the most amazing thing I have ever seen. We both had tears streaming down our faces. The nurse told me she looked like she was nine pounds, and I was amazed by how big and chubby she was. Another nurse put a cloth on my chest to lay her on which I pulled off and told her I wanted her right on me. The wrapped her up and brought her over to me. My midwife came and unwrapped her so that we could be skin to skin, and placed the blanket on top of her. They took the cord blood and delivered the placenta (which, unfortunately, I did not get to look at, I really wanted to but was totally preoccupied. Ah well, next time) and gave me one stitch.
I cradled Leila and Steve and I both stared at her. I said I wanted to nurse but my midwife told me to give her time to show interest. We looked at her fingers and her toes and her eyes (such big eyes!) and marveled at how much hair she had and at how big she was (a nine pounder! Never would I have thought!). She rooted around a little and eventually latched on (perfectly the first time, she is a natural). Once she was done I asked Steve if he wanted to hold her. Her took her and the nurses continued to clean me up. The noticed that the bleeding had not slowed down and called the OB. They gave me some more Pitocin to help my uterus contract and some medication to stop the hemorrhaging. The OB pushed on my uterus and blood gushed out. A lot of blood, and a lot of clots. They told me that was ok. When they checked the towels five minutes later, they were soaked through again, so they hooked me up to a blood pressure machine and the OB did the same thing again, with the same result. They ended up giving me three types of medication in the end to stop the bleeding and keeping me in the LDR room until eight thirty to make sure things were safe. We all fell asleep, me on the bed and Steve on a pull out cot with Leila on his chest.
Eventually, they sent me back to our room in wheelchair with a catheter and a baby and an exhausted but thrilled Dad. My care was transferred back to the midwife who told the nurses to take out my catheter at noon and that I was free to go home when I was ready. They made me stay until I could pee, and away we went, twelve hours after birth. A lot of people commented that it was so soon and was I sure it was safe, but I had been in the hospital since six Monday night, I was dirty and tired and hungry, and I wanted to sleep and shower and heal in my own home.
I have had a lot of thoughts about my birth since it happened, and it was an amazingly positive experience. I am proud of myself that I pushed her out on my own, and I feel absolutely no regret about the epidural, since I truly believe that those four hours of rest are what gave me the strength the deliver vaginally. The OB on duty was patient and encouraging and went above and beyond any notions I had about doctors delivering children. She was one hundred percent present and did not act in any way like it was a routine for her. I want to send her flowers with a thank you note today. The nurses were also great, helping me and giving my ice chips and holding my hair back while I vomited and being genuine in their concern afterwards while I was bleeding. They told me that I was the talk of the floor, and that none of the nurses could believe that I escaped a C-section, let alone the use of forceps.
My midwife somehow had all the right words during my whole labour and I find myself thinking about her and I feel so close to her. I think they her job, while it must be stressful and busy, must also be one of the most amazingly rewarding jobs in life. She told me that my birth had restored her faith in hospital births.
Steve. Steve was exactly one hundred percent always what I needed at every moment of the labour. He was amazing and although my love and admiration for him has never been in question, he proved to me that there is no one in this world better suited for me than him. He tells me everyday how proud he is of me and how strong I am. This experience has brought us closer together in a way I did not know was possible until now. It has cemented our love and our relationship, which right now seem to accumulate in the beauty of a little child.
And Leila. The little pup held on with her toes the whole time. She was bound and determined not to leave, and protested until the very last moment possible. But at that moment, every ounce of frustration and stress I felt completely evaporated. Those two weeks of waiting (not to mention the nine months previous) feel like nothing more than a memory that led me to this cuddly funny baby who farts when she cries and sucks on her daddys chest while he holds her.
As far as labour goes, the pain really is a distant memory now. It hurts, it hurts a lot, and never listen to anyone who tells you otherwise. But the pain is manageable. Breathe and try to relax and moan and focus on something else and you can do it. If you think about the pain and how enormous it is, if you think about all the contractions yet to come and all of the centimeters left to dilate, you become overwhelmed and terrified by how enormous it all is. And as far as epidurals or any other kind of pain relief out there, my only advice is to keep an open mind. You have no idea what to expect, or how you are going to feel until you are in that situation. Oh yeah, and do yoga. The breathing helps.
And now there is a baby who I suspect has a poopy diaper and two breasts that need draining. My mom is coming tomorrow evening and Tuesday my dad arrives. We are driving to Nova Scotia on June 24 and although I am going to try to document these days, I suspect that they may slip away on me before I get a chance to write every minute down. But right now, I want to go pick up the bundle who is laying in her crib and watch as she wakes up.
wunderwuman at 8:45 a.m.