birth story Archives - burnt toast life

Sep 08

here in the state of bliss

Sep 08

It’s fairly chaotic going from two to three kids. Anyone who tells you differently is lying (or medicated, or blessed, or has older kids).

But it’s also amazing.

The thing about newborns is that they sleep a lot. At least mine does. She’s either eating or sleeping or pooping in her sleep (or pooping while eating). She’s awake for, let’s say, 10 minutes per day. The chaos comes from corraling the preschooler and the toddler, trying to keep the dogs from eating precious Shopkins that are strewn about (the eternal struggle), an endless cycle of meals and snacks, laundry, nursing, keeping a close eye on the newborn in her rock ‘n’ play because any day now she’s likely to be smothered in hugs (literally) by one or both older siblings. Did I mention dishes and laundry and cleaning? All of it. Chaos 90% of the time.

But… but. The sweetness is nearly unbearable. I gave Liam way too little credit when it came to adjusting to his new sister. I thought for sure he’d be annoyed at her presence; I figured he’d act out and push her away and generally treat her like some kind of intruder. But in fact, he loves her. He is enchanted by “Baybee!” and is concerned when she cries. This could very well change as she gets older and needier but at this moment, I could not ask for better adjustment from him. And of course Molly is enamored/obsessed/helpful as I knew she would be.

I suppose I owe you all a birth story for Madeline but I fear that a planned c-section simply isn’t as exciting as a surprise birth. We made it to the date we planned for – Friday, 8/25, 2 weeks ago today. We arrived at the hospital at 6AM for our 8AM surgery. I expected to be bumped in favor of emergency c-sections or other more pressing births since the end of summer is the start of “busy season” in the maternity wing. But instead of waiting, they were actually ready for me at 8 sharp. Unfortunately, I was not ready because once again it took 4 freaking people to get my IV in. Have I mentioned how shitty my veins are? I swear, I dread getting an IV more than the actual surgery. I was crying and shaking and had almost passed out by the time they finally got one in. Now two weeks later both forearms, hands, and wrists are still covered in ugly purple and yellow bruises from all the poking.

Meanwhile, the more serious cut is healing beautifully. It seriously seems like each c-section gets easier, or maybe it’s just that I know what to expect. More likely it’s that I don’t have time to be incapacitated with 3 kids to care for. Eric took a few days off work but even when he had to go back, the fact that he works from home has been an eternal blessing. He can be full-on working and still within shouting distance. Also it has proven invaluable for naptime errand running because I can just leave the house with one or two or zero kids and know that he can keep an ear peeled for the sleeping ones. It’s very convenient.

The only other big news from the birth was that I’m no longer allowed to go past 37 weeks. Apparently just like last time my uterus was super thin, but this time dangerously so. I mentioned that next time I wanted to put in two embryos and my OB/GYN said it really wasn’t a great idea. She said then she’d have to take me even earlier, and we’d likely be stuck in the NICU, with 3 kids at home… overall, just unwise. But when I asked her if I could safely have two more pregnancies she said she didn’t see why not. Five c-sections sounds excessive but if she says it’s OK and if my body continues to heal as well as it does, I guess it’s not the worst thing. The thought of being pregnant two more times is extremely exhausting but it’s also not something I need to think about right this minute. My baby is 2 weeks old. I can just chill for a minute.

As much as I fought the notion that I’d need to take time off work, I am glad I did. This week has been a little nuts with Molly starting preschool – which so far she LOVES. Me, I love being able to drop her off and pick her up, and love that I’ll be able to continue doing so even after I go back to work.

For some reason I recently clicked on that really old super secret blog I had years ago. I kept writing there for about a year before abandoning it and starting Burnt Toast. The last day I posted? August 25, 2011. I mean… how weird is that? If you would have told me then that on August 25, 2017 I’d be welcoming my third baby to our family I would have been so skeptical. I was thinking that the other morning when I had Madeline sleeping on my chest and the other two cradled in my right and left arms. I was immobilized because I was literally covered in children. And I realized that’s all I ever wanted to be, and there I was, living out my dream. It’s weird to feel so content in what I have… given the choice I’d definitely want more money, less debt, and thinner thighs. But overall I am totally happy with what I’ve been given and couldn’t ask for more.

And it’s funny too because I was reading some past posts where I talked about having a kind of pre-midlife crisis, wondering about the Point of It All and just generally feeling blah, but now six months later I feel completely different. Proof that the real problem was simple: I hated my job. Once that one thing changed, everything else felt a million times better.

A part of me feels guilty posting stuff like this because it feels kind of like bragging — oh look at me, everything is SOOOO perfect. Trust me, it’s not. Lots of mini dramas and crappy things going on currently, and even motherhood isn’t always the best time ever. I definitely yelled at Molly for not listening the other day. She went silent for a few minutes and when I looked over, she was just sitting there with huge eyes and silent tears streaming down her face. I said, “Oh my gosh, Molly, what’s wrong??” and she said, “You YELLED at me!” in the most accusatory voice. I guess she’s not used to being yelled at? It was so funny/sad. But also very telling. Even perfect angels like Molly aren’t always perfect. (Her latest thing is to question everything I tell her to do, and give long-winded explanations why she should be able to do it her way, so now my phrase of the moment is “Stop arguing with me!” which she often parrots back to Liam, who seems confused).

Anyway. I feel like I’m rambling and since the other two monkeys are sleeping, I’m neglecting this precious small amount of Mommy/Maddie cuddle time (because I’m usually too busy to just sit around holding her. This poor third child). I’ll leave you with some of my favorite photos from the hospital, which if you follow me on social media you’ve already seen, but oh well. I am obsessed with them and am currently planning a total photo wall redo just to incorporate them.

one of my favorites

our beautiful Madeline Grace

what did I do to deserve all of this? how can I possibly thank God for these precious gifts?

my gratitude for these blessings is infinite

Dec 05

baby boy’s birth story

Dec 05

How has it been a week already?

You know when you have a newborn and the days just slip by and you’re left wondering, “What in the hell did I do all day?” Well, having a newborn and a toddler compounds that feeling by a million. I’ve been intending to sit down and write out this birth story every day, but even the simplest tasks seem to take hours and my perfectly reasonable to-do list never seems to get shorter. Of course it doesn’t help that it’s December, which is busy for just about everyone.

Anyway! Some of the more observant among you may have already noticed that I delivered a week past my due date… meaning… I DID make it to my one year work anniversary, and so I DO get the good maternity leave. Woo freaking HOOOO! On Tuesday morning I brought everyone a huge breakfast smorgasbord to celebrate. I left work on Tuesday night feeling awesome, and also ready to go into labor. At that point I figured it was a mental thing and maybe just thinking it would be enough to bring it on. No such luck.

Since I anticipated being early and couldn’t even imagine making it past Tuesday, I had finished up/handed off all my work and didn’t see the point of starting anything new for just one day. Rather than going in and twiddling my thumbs all day, I decided to start my leave on Wednesday and just use the day to wrap up last minute errands and spend some quality time with my little girl. Plus, it was Eric’s birthday, so I went over to his mom’s house and we baked him cupcakes and ended up having a birthday dinner with some of the family. It was nice…but still no baby.

Thursday morning was more of the same. I was on the “maybe” list for Thanksgiving, but I ended up going to Eric’s family gathering, skipping my family since theirs was over an hour away and I had my Friday morning induction scheduled for 7AM. We ate way too much, played some games, then drove over to Eric’s parent’s house to drop Molly off for her very first sleepover. By this point I was nervous as hell. One way or another, that baby would be out in 24 hours.

And then it was go time.

WARNING: I’ve included a few slightly graphic post-birth pictures below. Nothing too extreme, but there is a bit of blood, so I wanted to mention it before I shock and horrify someone.

Friday, November 27th (Black Friday!)

7AM
We arrived and got set up in the birthing room, where I donned my lovely hospital gown and got all ready to go. After they hooked me up to the monitors I was surprised to find out that I was, in fact, having contractions, about 8 to 12 minutes apart. I didn’t feel them at all, so it’s possible that my worst fear came true and I’m one of those people who doesn’t know she’s in labor. But really, they didn’t hurt! Baby boy was moving around like crazy as usual, so maybe he was just covering them up.

baby time selfie!

I got checked and was still only 1cm, 50% effaced (despite the fact that they’d said 70% effaced at my previous OB/GYN check, but whatever).

And despite the fact that I wasn’t nearly as swollen as last time, it once again took three different nurses multiple tries to get the IV in. Ugh, I have crappy veins! It was so unpleasant getting stuck over and over again. This time I managed not to cry, though.

Ouchie. Why do my veins suck so much?

8:15AM
My OB decided to use a foley balloon to get things moving along. For those of you not familiar with this technique, a foley balloon is a small catheter that’s inserted past the cervix and inflated, then attached to a weight. I was told it could take between 15 minutes and 12 hours to fall out on its own. I was also encouraged to walk around to help the process, so Eric and I started making awkward laps around the maternity wing, with me walking as normally as I could with a weighted saline bag hanging down the side of my leg. I did start feeling stronger contractions and had to stop every few minutes to catch my breath. About 35 minutes after we set out, I suddenly felt something very strange happening, so I turned to Eric and said, “I think it’s coming out. Yes, it’s definitely coming out. You need to go get someone.” It wasn’t very painful though, just very weird/awkward, especially since it fell out in a (thankfully empty) hallway.

8:50AM
I got back in bed and was immediately checked after our little walk and was at 5cm and having regular contractions – yay! My optimistic mind started to think maybe I could even have the baby by lunchtime. My sister – who works retail and was scheduled to work 10-2 (this was Black Friday, remember), started panicking that she was going to miss the whole thing.

My OB was doing a c-section at this point so I didn’t start Pitocin immediately. I’d say my pain level was about a 3 on the 10 scale.

9:45AM

Started Pitocin. Time to get the party rolling.

11AM

Surprisingly, the pain did not increase too much with the Pitocin, but I still managed to psych myself out since it just hurt so badly when I was in labor with Molly. It helped that the anesthesiologist who came by to introduce himself earlier was very nice and competent and had 30 years of experience. I told him about how much the epidural hurt going in last time so he researched my case and found that a student had been the one to administer the epidural (which I don’t remember at all). He promised that it wouldn’t be like that this time, if I chose to get one. I wanted to hold out and see if I could handle it on my own…but I was nervous.

So I got the epidural.

As promised, it went in just fine and barely hurt at all – just a quick burning sensation and it was over. I was told to lay on my side and let them know if I felt dizzy or lightheaded. Less than 5 minutes after getting the epidural, I started to feel funny all over, and then everything happened very, very quickly. My blood pressure started dramatically dropping and I was shaking and throwing up. It was 70/something, then lower – the lowest it got was 54/30. At the same time this was going on they also lost the baby’s heart rate completely on the external monitor. So once again a flurry of people rushed into the room while my poor husband was stuck in the hallway wondering what the hell was going on (my sister had found someone to cover her at work and had arrived by this point, but she and my mom and my other sister had all headed to the cafeteria to grab breakfast, so they had no idea about the drama unfolding).

Even though I was in distress myself, I was much more worried about the baby and the fact that they couldn’t find a heart rate at all. They stabilized me pretty quickly and then used an internal probe to try to get a read on the baby. The whole thing probably lasted less than 10 minutes but felt like a lifetime. I was terrified that 1) somehow the epidural had caused the baby’s heart to stop beating or, 2) we would need to have an emergency c-section. Luckily, they found the heart rate and eventually everyone cleared out and the commotion died down. Phew! Crisis averted.

12PM

They had stopped my Pitocin while the drama was unfolding and started it back up again at noon. Over the next two hours a pattern emerged – they would start the pit, lose the baby’s heart rate and/or get low reads, and then have to stop it until he stabilized to start up again. He was moving a lot and we were back to the external HR monitor, but still, it was clear that his heart rate was dropping every time I had a contraction. At that point I stubbornly tried to tell myself that it wasn’t really dropping, just getting lost since he was so squirmy, but my doctor did not agree with this assessment. They also put in another monitor to measure the strength of my contractions.

This birth thing takes too long, apparently. Part of my support team had to take a power nap.

2:15PM

After a couple hours of stops and starts, my doctor came in to check me. Unfortunately, I was still at exactly the same place – 5cm. She went over to the sink to wash her hands, and with a big sigh she said, “Amanda, I’ve been doing this a long time. We can try a few more things to try to make this work, but I can already tell you it’s going to end up as a c-section. The baby just isn’t liking what we’re doing here, and you’re stuck at 5cm because we can’t keep increasing the Pitocin when his heart rate isn’t stabilized. So you can either do it now, when you have some control, or it could end up as an emergency c-section later. It’s up to you.”

She wasn’t trying to be mean… just honest. I knew it was a possibility all along and a stronger possibility since I had had one before, but still, it was a crushing blow. Especially since making good progressions was one of the reasons she originally proclaimed me a good candidate for a VBAC.

At that juncture a c-section just made the most sense. There was more risk involved the more things she tried (such as pushing more fluid into my uterus to try to ease the baby’s distress, which could increase my chances of a rupture). This time I didn’t cry. I just nodded and accepted that c-section was our fate…again.

2:28PM

I got prepped and rolled back for my repeat c-section.

this looks familiar

Everything was pretty much the same as last time – same bright lights, same giant curtain to hide all the gory details. After just a few minutes of pressure and a distant tugging sensation, our little Liam was pulled out into the world at 2:54 PM with a strong, healthy cry.

he’s here!

thanks for the cuddles, Nurse Larry

“I’m mad… and cold. Mostly mad, though.”

I found out a little later what all the distress was about – apparently he had the cord wrapped around his neck twice, and tightly, which explains the heart rate decels during contractions. Also, alarmingly, my doctor said that when she cut me open to do the c-section, my uterus was stretched so thin at the original incision site that she could literally see the baby’s hair before she cut into it. Um, wow… good thing we didn’t try to push fluid in.

One of the reasons this c-section was so hard to accept was that my OB/GYN is a twice and done kind of place, meaning that once you’ve had two c-sections, you’re not allowed to try for another VBAC. I know there are some doctors who will attempt a VBAC with a 3rd pregnancy (even found out it has it’s own acronym, VBAC2), but honestly switching doctors just to do that feels like it’s not worth it. Plus it seems my babies prefer c-sections. For my next child I’ll probably just schedule the c-section and not even worry about it, especially now that I know exactly what to expect in terms of procedure and recovery. Although my doctor quipped later on, “Watch, we’ll schedule you for 38 weeks and your next one will slip right out at 37 weeks as a surprise VBAC.” I guess anything is possible. I’m going to try not to worry about it just yet.

Afterwards

I got wheeled back to recovery and got to hold and nurse my son, which went well from the start! He has a strong latch and took right to it like an old pro.

born to eat, apparently

My mother-in-law brought Molly to the hospital while I was still in recovery and we took some family photos – I look clearly exhausted but that’s to be expected.

Everyone took turns holding our little man.

Molly arrives to meet her new little bro

Nanni and Liam

Aunt Ashley

Granddad and little man

Aunt Allie

Uncle Michael

Nana’s 6th grandson

oh, my heart

First photo as a family of 4

it was an exhausting day

The next few days went well, much better than last time with the exception of Day 2 for various reasons. I jotted down some notes so I’ll just do bullet points for the rest of the things.

-Remember our terrible pediatrician last time who I was convinced was trying to steal and keep my baby? Well, I definitely picked the right one this time! She was young (so I felt like I could relate to her) and very good, to the point that I would consider sending my kids to her if her office wasn’t like 35 minutes from my house. And get this – she has three children named Molly, Liam, and Aiden (which is my nephew’s name). What are the odds?!

-Liam has a sacral dimple, which is a deep indentation right above his butt that is usually harmless but could be an indicator of spina bifida. We had to do an ultrasound in the hospital but thankfully it came back normal. So now it’s just another place I have to wipe when I change his bajillion poopy diapers.

-It’s truly amazing the difference between having a 5lb baby and a 7lb baby. Last time we had what felt like a hundred people looking over our shoulders, checking and scrutinizing feeding logs and making us feel completely incompetent at nourishing our child. This time, since he only lost 1 ounce the first day and 4 ounces the second, no one paid much mind to when or how much he was eating. We were sure to take meticulous notes just based on prior experience, but since he was so good at breastfeeding from the get-go, it wasn’t an issue at all.

-Right after my surgery I was on morphine, and that was great, but the second day I got switched to Dilaudid (another narcotic painkiller) and it did n-o-t-h-i-n-g. Seriously, I must have some kind of intolerance to this particular medication, because I might as well have been injected with sugar water. Every time I felt pain, they pushed it straight into my IV, and then… nothing. No relief. So that second day was kind of like hell.

On a related note, Eric brought Molly to the hospital on Saturday around 9am and she spent the day with us there. He came loaded up with a bag full of toys, and intentions of pulling out the cot for naptime. I guess we underestimated how small the room was, and even more so with toys everywhere… Molly is a very well-behaved child and is very good at entertaining herself, but that’s a looooong day. Plus this was Day 2, when my pain meds were not working at all, so I couldn’t hold her or cuddle with her like she wanted me to, which was frustrating and heartbreaking for both of us. Nap time was a complete disaster because every time she’d start to think about drifting off, someone would walk in the room for one reason or another or there’d be loud noises in the hallway. Finally, after all of us reaching our wits end, Eric took her home in the late afternoon and quickly lined up a babysitter for the next day so he could actually get to spend time with me and Liam (since he was so busy attending to her, he barely got a chance to hold him).

Right before they left I had my one and only epic meltdown. Eric had to use the bathroom so he went down the hall and left Molly running loose in the room. I was nursing Liam and she was overtired and cranky at that point, and decided to crawl behind the hospital bed and get stuck and start crying. Prior to that she had knocked my nurse call button onto the floor and my pain was intense at that point. I sat there immobilized in bed, listening to her scream (after a full afternoon of whining and crying, mind you) and I was just so exhausted and overwhelmed that I started bawling at the notion of these two needy children to take care of. Eric and the nurse came in at the exact same time to find me sobbing and helpless. Of course it was all resolved quickly and I returned to a rational state not long after. So far, that’s been my only “moment.”

So my advice for anyone with toddlers – a day at the hospital with the new baby is NOT a good idea (saying that now makes me feel silly, like duh, we should have known that). The following day (Sunday), Eric dropped Molly off with my sister and then his sister came by later to pick her up and take her to a birthday party. I got text updates all day and it was clear that she had a blast, plus Eric and I were much more calm and relaxed not worrying about her all day and just focusing on Liam. Oh, and I had switched to a combination of Percocet/Motrin by that point, so my pain levels were much better. AND I got to shower finally. That’s a guaranteed mood lifter.

-Falling in love with Liam was not the same as with Molly. With her, I was so overwhelmed from the first minute I met her… I was a mommy, finally. She was so tiny and precious and waves of love just washed over me. With him, it’s not that I loved him less – just that I was better prepared on what to expect. If anything, I think falling in love with him happened more slowly, growing gradually over those couple of days in the hospital as I got acquainted with him and his individual quirks. So I ended up in the same place – totally head over heels crazy about him – but got there on a different path, if that makes any sense.

-Liam has the best grumpy face ever. He really just looks mad at the world all the time, and it’s totally adorable. Not that Molly was smiling at this age, but she always had a very inquisitive and good-natured expression… Liam, not so much. I was watching him the other day and I figured out the word for how he looks isn’t quite angry, it’s more like indignant. Like he totally resents the fact that we made him come out. It’ll be funny to see if that matches his personality as time goes by.

indignant, personified

I have more to share but this post is creeping up towards 3,000 words and has taken me two full days to write, ha. I’ll wrap up by saying that the adjustment has gone even better than I could have imagined. We got home from the hospital Monday afternoon and Eric was able to take off until Wednesday and work from home Thursday and Friday, so I got to ease into this parenting two kids thing with help. Molly is IN LOVE with Liam. She loves showing off “her baby” and the first thing she says to me every morning when I fetch her from her crib is, “Baby? Baby? Baby?” She likes to pat him and point to his nose and ears and cover him with his blanket when he’s in his Rock ‘n’ Play. Every time she takes care of him I die a little from happiness.

Not sure how I got so lucky, but I am damn grateful. I truly could not ask for more.

“Dad, did you see this baby?”

“I just gotta kiss him”

there, there little bro

these two…

one week old already!

Jun 30

a birth story

Jun 30

Lots of drama for this birth story! Would you have expected it any other way? The only item on my birth plan (besides the generic “deliver a healthy baby!”) was that I really, really, really didn’t want a C-section.

I’m sure you can see where this is going.

It now makes sense to me why most people choose to divide birth stories into two or even three parts, because this post is going to be obnoxiously long. Of course, I don’t really have time to write any of this. But I also need to write it all while it’s fresh in my mind, because I do want an accurate record that I can go back and re-visit in the future. Plus, I love reading other people’s birth stories, so I knew I wanted to share mine.

I’m going to break this up as much as possible. I started writing it long before I was induced, so the first few parts are boring. (Sorry). The action picks up on Sunday night.

Friday, June 20th (40 weeks + 2 days)

I woke up and took a shower at 6:30 with every intention of going to work. While I was blow-drying my hair, Eric complained of indigestion from the red sauce with onions that I had poisoned him with the night before. He said he was taking a sick day. At this point I was having a few contractions here and there, plus I knew I wouldn’t really have a lot going on at work. I decided to start my leave one day early. Immediately after making the decision, it felt like a weight had been lifted and my mood improved by 1,000%.

Eric and I went to a gigantic warehouse frame sale at 9, and I was happy that we didn’t have to wait for Saturday like we had originally planned, since all the good stuff might have been gone. We stocked up on frames for future baby photos and spent less than $100 for piles and piles of merchandise. I was feeling great! I was still having contractions at this point, but very sporadically, nothing sustained. We met up with my mom at the frame sale and she kidnapped me to take me to the chiropractor (remember him?). Apparently he had been bugging her to make me come in for an adjustment pre-baby, but I had just never gotten around to it.

I got adjusted and he did some pressure point stuff in my feet, and then my mom and I went to Starbucks. Weirdly, I had been wanting daily Frappucinos, and I knew my days of consuming that many calories in one sitting were drawing to a close. Then we stopped at my sister’s house to drop off some frames I had bought for her. My contractions at this point were definitely intense, but still sporadic. After watching me wince a few times, my mom scolded me and said I should be writing them down. She said to be sure to note the date and year because she still has some scribbled down contraction logs and can’t remember which kid each one is for. I recorded one contraction and time and then forget to do it for the rest of the day.

Back at home I quickly became bored just waiting for my OB/GYN appointment at 2:30. (Boredom is a big theme here!) I vacuumed the house (obviously). Finally, it was appointment time. I thought that maybe there would have been some progress since I was having so many contractions. But no…I was still only 1/2 cm, although the doctor said my cervix was “definitely thinner.” My blood pressure was high-ish again, and she said that if I hadn’t already scheduled the induction, she would have made me do it that weekend. This made me feel better, knowing that I wasn’t just being induced due to my own impatience, but also out of medical necessity.

I knew I didn’t want to go home and sit around. I went to the grocery store and picked up random items that I probably didn’t need. I went to the library and got one book, not knowing how many (if any!) I’d have time for in the upcoming days. Finally I went back home, and Eric and I decided to start watching LOST since neither of us had ever seen it. By this point my contractions had stopped completely, and she was moving around a lot. We went to bed around midnight.

Saturday, June 21st (40 weeks + 3 days)

The first day of summer dawned sunny, gorgeous, and not at all humid! The weather could not have been more perfect. I was immediately envious of everyone camping (my family and part of Eric’s family).

I wasn’t having ANY contractions in the morning. I’ll admit that it was kind of exciting to know that my potential Gemini baby was now officially a Cancer – many of my best friends, including my sister, are Cancers. That is a sign that I know I get along well with (not to discount Geminis, of course). I decided to embark on some unnecessary shopping trips to waste some time. Oh, and vacuum. And get a Frappucino. It was starting to feel like Groundhog Day.

I really didn’t do anything productive for the rest of the day…watched some more LOST. Stopped by my sister’s house to visit. Had my first real gluten-filled meal since September (pizza…and yes, it gave me an instant headache). I managed to convince Eric to have relations, thinking this could help bring something on since that’s what everyone kept saying. It had been A WHILE. But no…even several hours and many episodes of LOST later, no contractions, no nothing. We went to bed about 1 am.

Sunday, June 22nd (40 weeks + 4 days)

I cannot fully express the boredom leading up to this event! Eric and I were seriously just pacing around the house, trying to come up with things to do. He installed the carseat in my car. We sat at the kitchen table and stared at each other. We contemplated how the HELL we were going to survive yet another 12 hours with nothing to do. It was such a weird place to be – we didn’t want to start any major projects (trim painting, backyard clean-up, etc.), but at the same time, the gorgeous weather made it hard to justify a day spend vegging out in front of the television. This was so not how I expected it to be. I expected to be running around, throwing things in bags, bickering and panicking and trying not to forget anything as we hurried over to the hospital. In reality, all I kept repeating was Phoebe’s gem of a line from Friends: “The miracle of birth sure is a snooze-fest.”

At my appointment on Friday, my doctor said to be sure to eat a good meal before coming to the hospital, so Eric and I made plans to go out to dinner at Bonefish Grill for one last hurrah. The waitress gave us a free appetizer when we mentioned what we were on our way to do. I treated myself to bread and gluten galore, and it was glorious.

8 p.m.

At the hospital there was a lot more waiting around, and we didn’t get sent back into our room to get started until several hours after our 8 p.m. arrival. Usually inductions start out in triage, but they were overbooked so we lucked out and got to settle into our birthing room right away. My birthing room team included Eric, my mom, my sister Ashley, and my sister Allie. Eric’s mom and sisters had plans of coming to join us once I was further along. A lot of people wanted to watch her come into the world.

our room

Allie drew this for our little Cancer sign crab baby!!

I was very, very swollen and hadn’t been keeping up on my fluid intake as well as I should have been. The week prior when I went in for blood work with the whole high blood pressure incident, the nurse had such a hard time finding a vein to stick that I ended up with a giant, ugly black bruise on my forearm. Well, this time I was even more swollen, and the nurse trying to put in the IV was NOT FUN AT ALL. She kept looking and thinking she found one and pushing and pushing her gigantic needle into my hand – apologizing, of course, but meanwhile I was crying and trying not to scream out in pain. In the end it took three different nurses about 30 minutes and multiple stab attempts to get the IV in. I could have kissed the one who finally succeeded.

Monday, June 23, 2014

2 a.m.

I was still only ½ centimeter at this point and it was determined that I had a “strong cervix,” so they administered Cytotec (vaginal suppository) to soften it and hopefully bring on contractions. I was to have another dose in four hours and see if I needed another. Everyone on my crew dozed off or kept me company watching TV.

swollen hands on the belly

6 a.m.

Another dose of Cytotec. I had been experiencing mild contractions, totally manageable, and breathing through them. They sucked, but I was handling it. At my next check, I was pleased to hear that I’d at least progressed to 1.5 cm, but also frustrated at how slowly it was all going.

view beyond my fat feet

Allie and Ashley

8 a.m.

So much for stoic grace through the pain. HOLY FREAKING SHIT. It was around this time that the pain reached a point of unbearable, and I thought I had a high threshold. The worst part of contractions was the knowledge that right when you finished one, another was just around the corner, so even the short relief of the in between held a sense of dread. At that point I was still only 2 cm dilated, and the thought of the pain getting worse made me want to jump out the window. In tears, I ~~asked~~ begged for the epidural.

10 a.m.

The anesthesiologist arrived and I’m pretty sure I told him I was in love with him (he gets that a lot, apparently). Not going to lie – getting an epidural put in is no picnic. It HURT going in, and the nurse in charge of holding me still and soothing my hysterics definitely deserves a raise. But then, within minutes, the sweet numbness took over and everything felt wonderful. Contraction? What contraction?

10:30 a.m.

They started Pitocin to move things along. After a small dose, I started progressing rapidly and my contractions were 1 to 2 minutes apart. Within a short amount of time (which of course I didn’t record), I was at 6 cm. Everyone started getting excited.

11:45 a.m.

I should mention that L&D was very busy and throughout the whole night, we kept getting told that we were the least complicated and therefore least priority case on the whole floor. Minimal check-ins, minimal supervision. But then suddenly at 11:45, 7 or 8 doctors came bursting into the room like there was a fire. They raced over to the monitors and started yelling things at one another and creating a commotion and told me that the baby’s heart rate had dropped rapidly and dangerously and they needed to get it up quickly or we’d need to get her out NOW. I was totally panicked and the change in the room was instant. They turned me onto my side and put an oxygen mask on me. I started crying pretty hard because all I wanted was a vaginal delivery and most of all for everyone to witness it who wanted to see it, especially Eric. I just remember the magic of watching my nieces and nephew, not to mention my brother and sister being born. I really wanted that for Eric. Also, the fact that she was in distress was really scary.

Again, I stopped taking notes at this point, but it wasn’t a long time before my doctor came in and broke the news – we were going to have to do a C-section due to fetal distress. There are two doctors at my practice, and the one in charge of my delivery happened to be the one who is very against doing unnecessary C-sections. In other words, if she said it had to be done…well, it had to be done. I made peace with it in my heart and tried to prepare myself mentally for surgery.

They wheeled me back into the operating room and put up the huge curtain. In no time at all I was number than numb, basically everywhere from the neck down. Eric got to come in and sit by my head and keep my company. All I felt was a lot of tugging and pulling. I’m really glad that it wasn’t until afterwards that I found out exactly HOW they perform a C-section. I was picturing a nice little slit and then pulling the baby out gently. Only later was I told that all of my insides were removed and placed on a table. Uhhh… yeah. Gross.

1:32 p.m.

Molly Marie entered the world with a small wail. At that point I was nauseated and numb and just felt weird all over, but I could kind of see her over on the little table with the NICU people and I could definitely hear her, which was reassuring. It occurred to me that I was torn open and could have potentially bled out and died. I asked God to spare me at least long enough to meet her, because it really wouldn’t be fair to make it so far and not even get to see her up close.

here she is!

Daddy gets to see her

it’s really loud and scary out here

Eric and Molly left (they did come over and show her to me first, but I still didn’t get a chance to touch her). It took an hour to sew me up, an hour I spent alone, wondering about my baby, and listening to the doctor’s chat about this and that. It was torturous.

After they finished, I was wheeled back to recovery. Along the way I saw my entourage – a crowd of excited people including Eric’s mom and sisters, a friend, and everyone from the delivery crew cheering me on. I felt a sense of exhaustion at this point that is completely indescribable, though I tried to put on a brave face as they gushed over how cute she was. Back in recovery, I finally got to meet her, but I couldn’t even hold her in my arms yet because they were still numb and I could only move my head from side to side. Everyone took turns visiting me two by two and meeting the baby. It really was too much to comprehend at that point and honestly all I wanted to do was close my eyes and sleep forever.

Then finally, hours after her birth, I got to hold my little girl.

exhausted, yet elated

I think she’s exhausted too

Aftermath

The recovery has been pretty painful. The first day I felt great – and couldn’t believe how great – but then my morphine ran out and I was stuck with nothing but Percocet and Motrin. My abdomen is very, very sore and my ankles, calves, and feet swelled up so bad at one point that it was hard to walk. Every day gets a little better.

And here is the absolutely terrifying part. Apparently the cause of fetal distress during delivery was a placental abruption, an uncommon and serious pregnancy complication where the placenta peels away from the wall of the uterus prior to delivery. This is one of those things that just happens, in my case not until actual labor, but it can cause significant risk for mother and baby during delivery. Pathology reported that my placenta was 20% detached. As my doctor said bluntly during a post-op visit in the hospital, “If we hadn’t done the C-section when we did it, your baby would have died.”

Whoa.

Sooo with that in mind, I’m not mad about it. No, the whole birth experience was not ideal, but my baby is safe and healthy and here, my pain will fade, my scars will heal, and this will just be that crazy story we tell about how Molly came into the world in her own way. Also, my doctor said that this was an isolated incident and my pelvis looked good, plus I was making good progression before things went south. She said I was an excellent candidate for VBAC, which makes me happy, because that’s something I would really like to try when we have another child. It’s funny, I was actually a C-section and all of my mom’s four other deliveries were VBAC. So it would seem Molly is following in her mommy’s footsteps.

And motherhood so far? It’s just what I would have expected and it’s better than I would have expected. I’m so overwhelmed by love that I can’t express it with words. Most nights I kiss her all over, and stare at her, and let tears fall all over her blanket and her tiny face because I can’t believe I get to be her mommy. She was worth every minute of the wait, and I would gladly do it all again a thousand times if it meant I got to have her in my life. I feel so, so blessed and so, so thankful. It’s like living in a dream world.

Stay tuned, because our post-delivery story (a.k.a. our 6-day stint in the hospital) has even more drama than her birth story! But alas, this post is creeping up on 3,000 words and I am barely able to keep my eyes open.

Here are a few more snapshots:

Daddy and his baby

proud Aunt Allie

the little smile that makes my heart melt