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I need to write this before my memory gets even more clouded. After two and a half weeks, the birth already seems less painful and the recovery minor and pregnancy seems like a walk in the park. I guess the forgetting is why women continue to have more than one baby. For those of you not interested in birth-type things, feel free to skip this post.

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The journey to Ezra’s arrival began on Tuesday, August 28. We went in for our 40-week appointment and because I was 40-weeks pregnant, they did a 20-minute “strip” — where they attach monitors to your pregnant belly, one to monitor contractions and one to monitor the baby’s heartbeat. It was fun to hear Ezra’s heartbeat for so long and to see that I was actually having contractions on my own that felt slightly stronger than Braxton Hicks contractions. After about 20 minutes, I heard the doctor looking at the monitor strip and saying outside the door, “Are these actual dips?” (referring to the dips in Ezra’s heart rate). He came in and explained how to read the strip and explained that the strip indicated that the baby was in some stress (thus, he wasn’t passing the non-stress test) as he wasn’t “reactive” (his heart rate didn’t go much above his baseline hb/minute after the contraction). He checked me and told me I was 1 centimeter dilated and pretty soft; he must’ve stripped my membranes at that point as well since I began to bleed later. He recommended we get going to the hospital to have a non-stress test there and that likely, we’d be having the baby, as they would want to make sure we had the baby in a safe environment given he was already experiencing some stress from contractions. The doctor recommended Bryce drop me off and he then go home and get our things, but we decided we could go home first and both go to the hospital.

We left the doctor’s office literally in a haze. I couldn’t believe it. We were going to the hospital and were going to have this baby. Out went all my dreams of laboring at home for a while. At this point, however, I still didn’t think that I was being induced. We ran home, finished packing our hospital bag, Bryce took Francis for a walk and I packed Francis’s stuff for Bryce’s parents (as they’d be dog-sitting) and we headed to the hospital. I think we were both in a bit of a tizzy at this point. After we arrived, we had an incompetent person at check-in who made me sign all this paperwork that I’d already signed at preregistration. Thankfully I wasn’t in labor, or this would’ve been pretty awful. We got to triage and they put me on the monitors for about an hour. They were looking to see if Ezra’s heart rate would go up after my contractions. On the whole, his heart rate wasn’t accelerating like they wanted so that meant I was staying. We asked for an hour to walk to see if labor would progress naturally.

We went to the mall and had lunch and walked up stairs and went to See’s candy to buy candy for the nurses (cleverly attaching our birth plan to it). We also called our Bradley instructor to discuss options for induction with her. Although my labor didn’t progress (although I was having contractions), it was great to have a hearty meal and feel like normal people — the haze cleared and we were okay with this new turn of events.

Our first nurse, Allison, was wonderful and really attentive to our birth preferences. That afternoon, we agreed to start pitocin to get my labor going. We invited our parents up to visit as we figured we had quite a while to wait until the baby arrived. We visited together for a few hours and chatted with another nurse who had been a midwife in England. Because I was on pitocin I had to be constantly attached to the monitors. This was quite annoying because every time I had to go to the bathroom, we had to detach the monitors and wheel my IV pole to the bathroom. Bryce was pretty adept at all this. By 9 pm (about 6 hours after pitocin was started), my contractions weren’t really intensifying and weren’t showing a pattern of active labor. At this point, as well, we were given another nurse who didn’t seem to be listening to us and our preferences very well. So Bryce requested to speak to the nursing supervisor and we explained we wanted a new nurse. She was a bit put off at first, but then realized we knew what we were talking about (as we suggested we turn off the pitocin and start cervadil, which ripens the cervix, to allow me to sleep a bit that night). So we got a lovely, compassionate nurse and after our doctor okayed us to stop the pitocin and start cervadil (which was pretty uncomfortable upon insertion, felt like a massive tea bag being shoved up there), we thought we’d at least get some sleep.

Bryce got a few winks but of course once they inserted the cervadil, my own contractions started and I couldn’t sleep through them. So much for getting some rest. At 6 am they removed the cervadil, let me shower and eat breakfast (wonderful!), and I was off the monitors for about 2.5 hours (double wonderful!). We walked the halls slowly, Bryce holding me and moaning through contractions with me and handing me my ice chips when I needed them. I was checked mid-morning and was only about 2 centimeters dilated, still a while away from active labor. So I went back on pitocin. My own contractions were pretty manageable, although more painful than I imagined at only 2 centimeters. I could anticipate when they were coming, feel the peak and feel them subsiding. Pitocin contractions were erratic, not as evenly spaced and hard to manage as I couldn’t anticipate them. The nursing staff complied with turning up the pitocin every hour rather than every half hour, which allowed me some time to get used to the growing intensity.

I sat in bed and leaned forward on the birth ball a lot. But it seemed like the only position that Ezra would tolerate (without the monitor losing his heart rate or without it dropping much after a contraction) was me standing up. Bryce amazingly stood beside me, letting me hold on to him, during each contraction as I alternately held on to him and the side of the raised bed. He moaned through each contraction with me, helping me to “sound” and to keep my noises low, which promoted more relaxation.

The doctor stated, however, that I really needed to get into active labor, so we figured the least invasive thing to do at that point would be for him to come by later that afternoon and break my water. The baby’s head would then be helping me dilate, which is much quicker than the bag of waters doing so (although without the bag of waters, the contractions would be much more intense). He hoped I’d be somewhere between a 4 or 5 centimeters at that point. All this time, I never thought of my labor as an “induction,” but simply that we were going to kickstart my labor and I hoped that at some point the pitocin would be turned off and my body would take over. Not thinking of it in terms of an induction (although that it was it was), I think was really helpful for my mental well-being. I felt pretty much in control of the situation, and that the decisions we made throughout were well-informed and in the best interest of Ezra.

The doctor came by sometime around lunchtime and broke my water. It felt odd to have warm water running out. I had to be in bed at this point, which was becoming quite painful as only standing was really working as far as my management of the pain. I think I was around 4 centimeters at this point. Because Ezra’s heart rate was dropping with contractions and not bouncing up like it should, the doctor had to do an amnioinfusion — putting fluid back into the uterus to help cushion the baby.

This is where things got crazy. For this I was required to be on the monitors (which I pretty much was the entire time anyway) and in bed on my back for two hours. I handled the pain for a little bit. Around the one-hour mark, Bryce started asking (probably pretty frantically as he saw how much pain I was in) if I could get up at any point. I couldn’t until they put enough fluid back into me. I simply remember trying to turn on my side to frantically grasp the edges of the bed during each contraction. I was writhing and a bit out of my head in pain. I started telling Bryce I couldn’t do it. He told me, with tears in his eyes, that I *was* doing it. I didn’t feel like I was doing it; I felt like I was falling apart. He was amazing; holding my hand and trying to help me sound low, but I just couldn’t. My voice kept being higher pitched and I felt like I was losing control. That’s when I threw up a few times. I knew this meant that you were close to transition. However, I still wanted the epidural. He held me off getting it for 30 minutes as he knew I really didn’t want one. But I couldn’t handle the pain any longer. I had nothing to prove and given the situation, I simply wanted our baby born safely, even though I really had wanted to bring him into the world without drugs.

I had a very understanding nurse who bumped me up in the line for the anesthesiologist and Bryce had to leave the room while they inserted the epidural. He cried for 20 minutes, as he was exhausted and had such a hard time seeing me in such pain, while they did the procedure and called his mom. I don’t remember much, other than that I had to sign a form and the anesthesiologist was quick to come in and administer the epidural. It didn’t hurt either and my contractions moved from making me grip onto the side of the bed to feeling pressure and that was it. Bryce came back in and I reassured him I was fine. He told me he’d be back in 10 seconds as he had to use the restroom. Previously, whenever he went away from my side (to run upstairs to pick up food someone had brought him or to use the restroom), I had a very difficult time dealing with the contractions on my own. So he wanted to prep me that he’d have to be gone, but with the epidural working, I told him I was fine and he could take his time.

The doctor came in to check my progress and see how Ezra was handling contractions. He knew that I’d gotten the epidural and that we had wanted a natural childbirth and asked if I was okay with the fact that I’d gotten the epidural. I was. I remember thinking that was a very considerate thing to do. I dilated to 10 centimeters pretty quickly (I think it was a combination of the relaxation from the epidural, the escalation of the pitocin, and the breaking of my water) and was going to get ready to push. The doctor let me labor down for 40 minutes as Ezra was a bit high still.

He checked me and deemed me ready to push but saw that Ezra’s heart rate was continuing to have long decels after the contractions. He said it didn’t look good. He instructed me on pushing and let me push three times with the next contraction. Ezra’s heart rate still wasn’t going up so he let me sit through three contractions and see if that improved it. It did moderately but that was it. He said that had I been a second- or third-time mom that we could get Ezra out in two pushes using a vacuum but that he wasn’t so optimistic with a first-time mother. He let me push once more and then left the room for awhile, letting me wait through the contractions and to see if things got better.

The nurse started getting nervous about the decels. Thankfully I was confined to bed and couldn’t see the numbers on the monitor, so I don’t know how bad they got. The doctor came back in and he told me that things just weren’t looking good. At this point, Bryce and I knew that it was probably going to be a cesarean section and we were okay with that. I knew that I wanted Ezra to be safe and that I wasn’t going to risk a vaginal delivery just so I could push my baby out if he wasn’t going to be able to tolerate it. A host of people descended quickly on my room: someone had me sign consent forms, someone was prepping me for surgery and giving scrubs to Bryce, the anesthesiologist came in to “top up” my epidural and put in some post-op narcotic. I was quickly wheeled in to the OR.

I remember being extremely sleepy, which was probably good as it helped ease any anxiety. I remember hearing the attendants talk about vacations and other run-of-the-mill sort of things while I was thinking, shouldn’t they be talking about what they’re doing? I’m having major surgery for goodness’ sake! I remember feeling lots of tugging and hearing big sucking noises. Bryce was a rock, although I’m sure he was fearful for his wife and his baby. The NICU team received Ezra right away and took him to be resuscitated (his first APGAR score was a 4; the second was a 9). Bryce asked if the baby was okay but they didn’t say anything. After a few minutes we heard him cry and Bryce was visibly relieved, I was happy, too, although was in a pretty big stupor. Bryce asked if he could touch his son and Ezra’s frantic crying settled. Bryce brought him over to me and held him against my cheek and told me he was beautiful. He asked if I wanted him to go to be with Ezra or with me as I was being stitched up; I instructed him to follow his son.

I felt detached from everyone. When I got to the recovery room, we called our parents, who made their way to the hospital. Bryce got to give Ezra his first bath (he was in a little plastic crib/warmer next to my bed) and change his diaper. I couldn’t see anything as most of my body was numb and I was so tired I felt like I’d been hit by a truck. We tried to breastfeed for a bit and Ezra latched on for a minute. I hated that I felt so out of it and unable to bond with my baby. Gone were my dreams of Ezra being placed on my tummy, fresh from the womb. I was still very happy that Bryce got to be the one to first bond with him. Our parents were wonderful and supportive and happy to hold their grandson.

Once feeling came back and I could move my feet, I was wheeled to the maternity ward and they did everything they could to facilitate bonding as I held Ezra on my gurney — still not quite believing this was my baby and still feeling exhausted from the labor and medications. That night Bryce and the nurses changed diapers and I tried feeding Ezra when I could. Once my catheter was out the following day and I was able to get around, I felt much more myself (although I was pretty itchy from the epidural-narcotic blend). The hospital stay is another story altogether and I’m also quite happy to say that breastfeeding is going remarkably well and that it has given me the bonding with Ezra that I missed out initially during his birth.

I did cry a bit, thinking I’d failed in that I had to have a c-section, as there is something in all women, I think, that feels that we have to be able to push our babies out. Something primal perhaps. I’d so wanted that. I knew, rationally, I hadn’t failed and was confident that every decision we’d made was for Ezra foremost, not an idealized birth experience. I felt that the hospital staff and our doctor had listened to us and that we weren’t railroaded along a c-section path and everything possible had been done for us to have the birth we wanted. But it just wasn’t to be that way. It took me a while to come to grips with Ezra’s birth as I so wanted to be able to bond initially and that the meds had made me feel like I just wanted to sleep and really I could have cared less about Ezra at that moment. As we’ve lived with one another these past few weeks and my postpartum hormones have mellowed and as breastfeeding has become more established, I have come to bond with and love my little son more and more. And I’m thankful that God brought him safely into this world and has given us the responsibility and the grace to raise him.

This entry was posted by Ashley on Monday, September 17th, 2007 at 8:26 pm. This entry was tagged with Baby. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.