So, of course, again, I haven't written in a long while! Obviously, some big changes have occurred. My husband and I graduated from college, had a baby, and are now trying to figure our lives out for the next year.
Our son was born August 6th and weighed 9lbs 10oz. He surprised everyone! The nurses who were with us in the labor and delivery room were estimating he would weigh around 7lbs. Boy oh Boy!
I'd like to say that everything ran smoothly, but that was not the case. I was hoping for a natural birth and had practiced different exercises to prepare myself. I thought I had done my research and was pretty prepared for what might happen. I realized that a there were certain things that might happen where a natural birth might be impeding. Going into it I wasn't so extreme as to think that absolutely under no circumstances was I going to accept an epidural, but I was quite determined to go natural.
Well, one night around 2:00 a.m., I woke up (I have no idea how...) and discovered I was all wet. Immediately I thought, "My water broke!" I nudged my husband and told him I was all wet. He was like, "Seriously? Now?" Earlier we had joked that it would be our luck that my water would break in the middle of the night. We were both thinking that it would have been much more convenient if my water had broken during daylight hours.
Well, while I was cleaning up in the bathroom I was getting excited. This was it! My husband came in after calling my mom who was staying next door. He slyly commented, "Well, happy anniversary..." Ha! I had forgotten! This was also something we had joked about happening to us. Well, such is our luck :)
We ran to the hospital to find out that my bag of waters apparently hadn't broken. The nurse suggested there might have been a leak instead and suggested we see our doctor first thing in the morning. So, a little disappointed (but relieved to sleep a little more) we returned home. Following the nurse's advice we made a visit to the doctors office the next morning.
It was a little hard to explain why exactly we were there, but after some time, they put us in a room where I got hooked up to some monitors to measure the baby's heart rate and my contractions. I was amazed to find out that I was having contractions close together! I couldn't even feel them. But when the doctor came to look at the results he pointed out something I had not been looking for: the baby was experiencing decelerations. (This is where the contractions are actually affecting the baby's heart rate.) The doctor made an executive decision right then and there. The baby was overdue (by three days), and could possibly be in distress if we let this go on much further. The baby had to come out. Now. He told us that we needed him to make the "safe landing" and to trust him.
To be honest, I was a little skeptical, but at the same time I did trust him. In our experience with each other I had agreed with him on most points during my pregnancy and I knew how long he had been practicing (and our area, as you can imagine, deals with a lot of pregnancies and deliveries per year). I did trust him enough to agree with him. For the safety of the baby, we had to consent to induction.
I was not fond of the idea because I knew that induction could lead to a harder labor. But at last we agreed that most importantly, we wanted a healthy baby. We trusted the doctor to "land the plane" safely. So, we rushed (Literally. The doctor instructed my mom to get our "hospital" bags for us instead of letting us go home to get them ourselves.) to the hospital's labor and delivery unit. He told us he would meet us in a few minutes.
As we were driving to the hospital I was thinking over what had happened and what was going to happen. This was not going my way. The doctor had orders for me to have internal monitors so he could get more accurate readings. I didn't like the idea because I knew that I would not be able to help my body through labor the way I planned. I wanted to use a birthing ball, possibly get in a warm bath, try different holds and positions. Internal monitors were definitely a hindrance. I was thinking about objecting to the doctor's approach...
But then, most importantly, I had a very distinct impression enter my soul. Yes, it pierced my heart. The thought entered my mind as clear as any command that I was not to let my pride get in the way of this delivery. Of course! I wanted it my way. But maybe my way was not best in this circumstance. I had to sigh and concede. I knew that God was speaking to me, and I needed to listen.
When he did arrive, he broke my bag of waters and told us that he would only add Pitocin if my body didn't have strong enough contractions. I really wanted to avoid this as well because I knew that Pitocin would do the job, but definitely make it harder for me. Luckily, my body did just fine with contractions. It naturally set to work. At first, I still couldn't feel them. But then they intensified. I tried the breathing techniques I had practiced. And they made a HUGE difference. But then it was clear to me, that I did not want to lay down anymore. After some careful maneuvering around wires and the help of a nurse, we got a birthing ball ON my bed that I could lean on. I was limited to what I could actually do with it, but I found that a kneeling position where I could stretch out my torso by leaning with my arms on the ball suited me just fine.
I was in pain, but dealing with this well. I even talked to my dad on the phone while I was in labor! (In between contractions, of course. He had to wait patiently on the phone a few times while I did my breathing technique.) My mom even got me a scented candle to help "overwhelm" (?) the senses. And I listened to soothing music on my phone.
As things progressed I could still feel that I wasn't able to help my body the way I wanted to. So I started to consider an epidural. Why? I could tell I was running out of energy fast. And I knew I needed to conserve energy to push. I tried my hardest to only let the contractions use energy and not concentrate on the pain. Really, I think I was coping well, but I had this feeling that something needed to change.
Again, it came down to my pride. I decided to wait for the nurse to check on me again and tell me how far along we were progressing. After she did, I had to make a judgement call. I prayed. I analyzed. I wanted to do it my way, but I had the feeling that I needed the epidural. Bah! I wrestled with it, but then in my mind it was clear that was what was appropriate for me at this time.
I was lucky in that the lady with the equipment was already on the floor. It only took her five minutes to come in with everything she needed. It only took another five to ten minutes to administer it, and strangely, it took no time at all to take effect. The only thing that I had been dreading was that I knew I was going to have to lay down again and contractions at this point were coming fast and they were much harder to cope with laying down then in my kneeling position. But again, I was blessed because after they laid me down for the allotted time, I didn't feel anything. I was still able to point my toes and even move my legs, but I did not feel the contractions in the least bit.
Lavbor progressed smoothly after that. They suggested I take a nap to conserve energy, and after our adventures that morning, I was happy to oblige. My husband even bunkered down to sleep as well. He slept through all the nurses coming in to check on me and the beeping equipment. He was so out, I remember I was actually afraid he wouldn't wake up when it was time to push. Indeed, he didn't get up till the doctor had been there some time.
When nurses and doctor decided all was ready for me to push, again they detected decelerations. (We later found out that the umbilical chord had been wrapped around my son's neck. That would explain a few things....) So to keep the baby safe (I guess the decelerations weren't bad enough for a cesarian section, but I noticed the doctor closely watching the monitors just in case), the doctor encouraged me to push hard and fast. In our case, the more time we took, the more dangerous for the baby. So, I pushed as hard as I could. I remember trying to focus on the right muscles and giving it everything. The hardest part was trying not to interrupt my pushes to catch my breath.
Well, whatever I was doing was good, but not good enough. I'm not exactly sure how it panned out, but because the baby was big and I was small, I really should have gotten a C-section. But I had already pushed the baby far enough that it was too late. The doctor first tried to use a vacuum, but after four failed attempts he resorted to forceps. I gave him the "OK." I was really hoping not to have to resort to forceps, but I knew that my particular clinic was trained exceptionally well with them. They knew how to use them correctly without hurting the baby. And they didn't hurt the baby all that much. He only suffered a small bruise.
I'm the one that suffered the consequences. Apparently, baby was so big, and I was so small, and we were running out of time, the doctor had to use considerable force on me. I wasn't aware of it at the time because I was just concentrating on pushing so much, but my husband and mom affirm that the doctor was literally lifting me off the bed by the forceps while I pushed. Wow. (I'm not criticizing my doctor because I fully trusted him, I'm just...wow...). Long story long (haha), the baby came out just fine and safe (save a bit of fluid that had to come out) and I ended up getting an episiotomy (that must have happened really fast because I don't remember seeing anything of the kind, and I hadn't forbidden one or consented to one...I think our doctor was just intent on "landing the plane" for us as safe as possible), tearing up and down, I got fourth degree lacerations, and I tore through rectal muscle. One nurse told me it was as if I had torn and gotten a C-section. Clearly, at least in my case, a C-section might have been better. For now, I am still sitting on a doughnut and taking it easy.
But that isn't even the most exciting part about the delivery. The most encouraging words that I heard during the delivery were pronounced by my husband. When I was pushing (it was really hard!) my husband was encouraging me, and then when the baby crowned and started to show, my husband said, "He's here! He's here!" I was so excited and exhausted I was overcome with emotion and the will to try harder. When he was finally out and some fluid removed, he was placed on my chest. Of course he was crying, but it was the most beautiful sound I had ever heard! And he was gorgeous! He was so beautiful! My mom (probably overcome with emotion from seeing her baby go through so much) and I were both in tears. The amazing moment was when he looked up at me and stopped crying. It was love at first sight. He was being rubbed off (they let me help) and then they took him from me to clean him up.
I had instructed my husband to follow the baby wherever they took him. So he got to assist in giving our son his first bath! I was glad. They didn't even take him from my sight. I got to watch the whole thing while I was being stitched up.
Being stitched up was also a scary experience (Mostly for those who were watching. I was too excited to see my son, and I obviously couldn't exactly see what was going on down there). I remember watching the nurses clean up my son from the bed through a gap of nurses. I can't even tell you how many nurses there were in the room, but the doctor was insisting he needed an additional person to assist him. It was nuts. There were four deliveries going on at the same time and all the available nurses were being used, but he was still desperate for one more. One nurse came in the room to tell him he was needed elsewhere and he told her she needed to stay (I think she even came from C-section). Someone else came in asking for a piece of equipment and he told them they would have to wait. But seriously I had at least six people surrounding my bedside and they all had grim faces. My doctor was shaking his head as he tried to stitch me up. Nurses were holding this or that.
I noticed that my blood pressure was still being monitored, but instead of being taken intermittently, it was taken continuously. I have to explain that I absolutely HATE those things. After being hooked up to one of those all day, I so ready to be done with it. And it was so obnoxious! You have to understand when my blood pressure is being taken I have to concentrate on breathing because otherwise I tense up and hold my breathe. I knew that would not be wise right now. So I asked the nurse nearest me if we could just take that thing off. She obviously said no, adding that I was bleeding heavily. That shut me up. I apologized to her if I had "snapped" at her. She told me I hadn't, and if I had I would be well deserving of the privilege.
A little later into the process, I started to feel the stitching. It probably wasn't as bad as it would have been if I had never had an epidural, but it was still painful enough to bring me to tears. I told the nurses (who were not exactly listening to me because they were so occupied with their task), who brought it to the doctor's attention. They asked if I was feeling pulls or an actual acute pain. It was the latter, and I had to stifle my tears to get the words out. They quickly administered more pain killers.
It took the doctor at least an hour to finish. The nurses were shaking their heads telling me I was not allowed to have anymore big babies. And rightfully so: they were slipping in my blood and quite stressed. My room was a beehive of activity. When the doctor was done, he told me that though he was needed elsewhere, he wanted to assure me he had taken his time. I fully believed him. He had remained calm through the whole thing, but had had to stand his ground against other pressing obligations to finish stitching me up. I appreciated him more than ever.
He did stay even longer because my heart rate started to increase quite dramatically (My husband was surprised to learn that the beeping that registered from the monitor was not the baby's heart rate.). He studied the monitor then studied me. At that moment, the nurse had given me my son and was trying to help me breastfeed. I was occupied with the task and sitting up (and I was in heaven with my son in my arms!). Everyone was dumbfounded because the monitors were calling for a blood transfusion, but I was alert. The doctor and the nurses conferred for a minute. They actually took my son from my arms and made me lie down to see if that would make a difference. It must have done the trick because my heartbeat slowed down (it was still fast, but close enough to normal). It was only then that the doctor left me to the care of a nurse.
She had the toughest job of cleaning me up, taking me to recovery, helping me shower and go to the bathroom, and showing me how to care for myself. It was the messiest job. I was sorry that she would be assigned such a task for me. But she was a life saver! I told her I was sorry she had to care for me that way, and she again affirmed to me that I had not had a normal delivery. This usually didn't happen.
During a little down time, my husband asked me if I would like a blessing. I was so exhausted and I was feeling rather sick. I was even light-headed, but I didn't tell anyone. My mom was so worried! And she was solemn. I think I really gave her a scare. She later told me that she thought my color was terrible. She also had seen my feet and told me that they had been the same color as her father's before he had died. No wonder she was so sombre! My husband gave me the second blessing of the day (He later told me he had given me a silent blessing during the delivery.), promising me that I would make a full recovery. It was very comforting at the time. So much had happened and was happening.
The next little while in the hospital was agonizing. And I felt SO fatigued. I was able to stand and walk for short periods, but I felt that at any moment I was going to loose it. It was amazing to me that I somehow found the energy to hold my son. And we were in good spirits. I was trying to make a conscious effort to make the nurse's job easier for her while still getting my needs fulfilled. I felt sad that I could not rise from my bed to care for my son, but grateful that my husband and mom were so on top of things. I never doubted that my son was in good hands.
After another day at the hospital I felt well enough to go home. I had been checked out by our doctor again and my son had been checked out by the pediatrician twice. We were so excited to take our son home and not be disturbed by nurses coming in and out all night and day. I felt at home I could actually get some rest and recover.
I am very convinced that God's hand had been in it. I had been warned about what kind of choices I should make, I felt very blessed to have a very experienced doctor (who I felt was my friend) caring for me, I had more energy than I should have, my son was healthy, and we really grew closer as a family. We also have a strengthened testimony of the priesthood power. Truly we witnessed miracles and blessings. We are Never Alone.
