My how life has changed in the last few months since my previous post. I always knew that I would have trouble posting frequently, but it doesn't mean that I don't have thoughts and ideas for posts that are constantly swirling in my head. 2017 has delivered some of the greatest changes in my life - challenges and blessings. In particular, it has offered a sort of "clean slate". An opportunity to create a new lifestyle, with a new routine, and a renewed sense of purpose. And the center of this new life is what I want to write about today.
I'll begin a few weeks prior to her arrival and mention that I was experiencing the frustrating, yet common symptoms of "pre-term labor". Starting on Thursday, February 9th, my body displayed numerous signs that it was preparing for the big day. On multiple occasions, I was able to track and time my contractions. Some days, I found myself pacing the office, taking laps around the circular layout of my building's floor, or walking up and down flights of stairs in the stairwell. My weekly doctor's appointments continued without much excitement, but at 38 weeks, I was rewarded with the news that my body was making progress at 2cm. Those days, my mantra became, "Pain with a purpose". So to say I wasn't feeling 100% was an understatement. I quickly realized that the ninth month of pregnancy is a completely different experience from all of the previous months, not only because a woman is completely over being pregnant, but also because every symptom she has experienced separately over the previous months decide to band together and occur all within the same day. I had bounced on my yoga ball for hours on end. Packed, and repacked, my hospital bags - after going through one too many close calls without it being ready. I had washed what baby clothes I felt comfortable with, meaning not all of them. I had written all of my thank you notes from shower gifts. My mother had come to the house on 2/11/17 and helped make final preparations. And yet, we continued to wait. I was excited and desperate for my baby to arrive, and praying I wasn't going to go past my due date.
Friday, February 24th - I wasn't feeling particularly sprite on this morning, as I tried to get out of bed and get myself dressed for work. I had a gnawing feeling in the back of my head and the bottom of my stomach. Not that she was going to arrive that day....because by this point I'd lost hope after having my hopes brought up so many times! But rather, that I had a strong desire to stay at home. I wasn't exactly jumping out of bed every other morning, to sit in Atlanta traffic, and report to my office each day. But this day was different. After experiencing extreme "nesting" urges from the week I found out I was pregnant till the eighth month, my desire to clean and declutter had drastically reduced in the previous weeks. However, on this Friday, the desire to fold laundry and clean the house was back. Even though I received strong encouragement from my mother to rest and put up my feet, I found myself standing, folding laundry, doing the dishes, vacuuming, and of course, over doing it. But I was also able to fit in a nap, or some sort of additional sleep.
Saturday, February 25th - A repeat of Friday's behavior, and I was surprised at my desire to move around. Even though I was exhausted and anxious.
Sunday, February 26th - I woke up around 2am, which was quite normal, feeling uncomfortable. I noticed my pajama pants were wet, but nothing extreme. I changed and went back to bed. We decided to sleep in and miss Sunday morning worship. This was uncommon behavior for us because weeks prior, I remember how much work it took for me to get myself together and presentable. When I woke up that morning, once again, I noticed I was wet. But again, no alarms went off. I had experienced similar symptoms for so many weeks prior, that nothing seemed out of the ordinary to me. The day before, Mark and I had decided that we would treat ourselves to a special meal (with a coupon of course) and somewhere we rarely go! I had mentioned that I wanted to eat here before baby arrived because I wasn't sure when we would go again, and of course I had every intention of cleaning my diet up upon her arrival! Sunday lunch was a gourmet meal of cheeseburgers, french fries, and blizzards from the happiest place on Earth - Dairy Queen! By 2pm Sunday afternoon, I was no longer have this having this "leaking" sensation, but an inkling feeling made me look things up on the internet. I had not experienced a dramatic burst of fluid, which I was hoping would happen, and therefore be a clear sign of labor. But I wanted to test things out nevertheless. I decided to lay down on my left side for over and hour, and then suddenly stand up, in hopes that the "build up of leaking fluid" and rapid movement would cause my water to break more noticeably. Nothing happened.....talk about anticlimatic. So I just continued about my day. Sat on my yoga ball some more and rested. Around 7:30pm, after being absent for many hours, I noticed that the leaking had returned. So I decided to text my mother and clued her in to what had been going on. We decided it would be a good idea to call the doctor's office in the morning and be tested for amniotic fluid. Mark and I both decided to not go into work until I was seen and given an explanation.
Monday, February 27th - After getting plenty of extra sleep over my long weekend, and feelings of anxiousness, I found myself awake at 4:00am. I laid in bed for about an hour, unable to fall back asleep. Throughout the previous evening and night, I had continued with this leaking, but it was all very minor, and never progressed. I had been experiencing contractions and Braxton Hicks for weeks, and since nothing ever ramped up severely, I never felt a desire to proceed to the hospital. But once awake, I decided to get myself put together and dressed, fearing that we might have a long day ahead. After showering, finishing packing my bags, getting dressed, and doing my makeup, it was about 8am and I decided to wake Mark up. He went into a tizzy, feeling rushed and concerned, but I casually began straightening my hair. Which really confused him! He was under the impression things we serious, I wasn't in any rush, and we weren't on the same page ;) My OBGYN office didn't start accepting calls till 9:00am. So I made my call as soon as I could and left a voicemail on the nurses' line. Explained my symptoms and asked if I could come in. I was promptly called back and given a 9:45am appointment. Because I knew that if I tested positive for AF, we would be sent directly to the hospital, so we had already packed the car up with everything we might need. We headed to the doctor's office, but of course stopped for some coffee and breakfast on the way there. Upon arrival, we were seen promptly, and of course, due to a small tear, my "leaking" really was amniotic fluid. We were told to immediately proceed to the hospital because of the "prolonged exposure". Due to such a long duration after my leaking started, I was told they would start an aggressive round of IV antibiotics. My original goal was to be able to spend as much time at home as possible before going to the hospital. I was less than excited about this news, but as my OB nicely explained, "I gave you all day Sunday for your contractions to increase and for you to go into labor. You didn't." Although the circumstances weren't exactly as I expected, I did get to "labor at home". I was also able to get to the hospital in a calm and relaxed fashion - and in hindsight, that was a huge blessing! After leaving her office, we went to the gas station across the street, purchased some Gatorade and snacks, and drove up the highway. The hospital was quiet on a Monday morning at 10:45am. We quickly checked in, proceeded through admissions, and placed in a labor and delivery room. During all of this time, I felt perfectly fine and was only slightly nervous. Of course I had been keeping my mother up to date with each new change, and I had told her to make her way to the hospital when we did.
Labor & Delivery - By 11:45am, I was changed into the ugly hospital gown, stuck 3 different times to try and get an IV started, given a medication called Cytotec, hooked up to the fetal monitor, and laying in bed. This is when my nerves set in. My mother had arrived, Mark had unpacked the car, and he had gone back home to eat some lunch, and retrieve last minute things that we had forgotten. One of the reasons I had chosen this particular hospital was because of the large rooms and jacuzzi tubs that mothers often use to labor in. I expected myself to want to walk around, move, stay active, get in the tub, etc. in order to progress through labor gradually and without any medication. I was wrong. I had zero desire to do more than sit on my yoga ball and lightly bounce or lay in bed. My contractions had been steady and consistent for hours. I had arrived to the hospital at 3cm and at at 3:45pm, I felt a contraction that was quite different from all of the other ones. I said, "OUCH!", sat up in the bed, and told my mother and Mark how unusual that one and felt. And then I burst into tears. I think the tears were partly because of the pain and partly because of the shock I felt. The contraction did not feel anything like what I expected, but before I was able to think about it, another came upon me right after the first. By 4:00pm I was out of bed, had experienced about 3 contractions, and then people began to flood the room. Not because of my need for assistance, but rather because of the hour of day. It had been 4 hours since I had taken the medication and it was time to reassess my status. As if it was clockwork, my body had responded to the medication and surrounding circumstances, and I had progressed to 5cm. My OBGYN estimated that I would be having my baby around midnight or a little bit after. At the time, I wasn't saying much, but rather listening to all that was going on around me. I knew I wasn't going to make it through eight hours with the pain I was experiencing, so I jumped off of my "no medication" bandwagon and scurried on over to the "narcotics" bandwagon and received my first dosage of fentanyl. I felt immediate relief and my body relaxed when I realized I was going to be able to survive for 8 hours if the fentanyl worked the same way it did within those first 5 minutes. After 15 minutes, and at least 4 contractions, I was starting to panic. I asked when I could receive more medication and was told one dosage every hour. I needed to survive another 45 minutes before I could get more help. After another 15 minutes, I told my mother I wanted an epidural. She made the request and I decided I should make my way to the restroom to use it before being unable to do so. It was in this quest across the room that I think my body really pushed into high gear. I was able to use the restroom, but almost immediately informed Mark, "I HAVE to stand up!" I went through at least 2 contractions while in the restroom, another as I got on back on the bed, and they only continued as I tried to breath and sit still as the anesthesiologist administered the epidural. He made a comment to the nurse, "Is she okay?" Which really struck me. In the midst of my contractions, I was surprised to hear him ask such a question. Hadn't he seen numerous women in labor? Was my behavior really that different? As I felt like I was convulsing through a contraction, or experiencing something out of the Exorcist, yes, it's possible things were different than what he normally saw. After the 5:15pm epidural, I was told to lay down on my side. I distinctly remember looking down at the bed and feeling like it was a far way to go....and I couldn't decided if I wanted to just fall to the side and see where I landed, or gradually make my way down. I ended up lowering myself with more control than I realized I possessed, lifting my feet onto the bed, and closing my eyes. Now remember, I have said no more than 30 words since about 3:45pm, and now I am laying on my side, with my eyes closed, as people begin to reenter the room. It is at this time that my mother urges the nurse to check me (which should have been done prior to the epidural) and they realize that I am at 10cm. Which I believe happened after getting off the bed and making my way to the restroom. Which would also explain the unusual sensation I had on the toilet and all through the contractions since that point - baby girl was trying to make her way out and I was trying to keep her in. I had crossed my legs when washing my hands in the restroom and when I had a contraction back at the bed before the epidural. I had lifted myself up off the bed and out of my seated position while the doctor put a needle into my back. All because my baby was ready to arrive and I didn't realize it!
After not responding to prompts of rolling onto my back or suggestions of delivering her on my side, I finally opened my eyes and responded, "So you want me to roll over??" It wasn't that I hadn't heard the suggestions, but rather that I was working on processing the new sensations after the epidural and assessing what the contractions would feel like now that I knew that pushing would soon begin. To this day, I still say that I am glad I received the epidural because it allowed me to not only survive my last hour of labor, but to also know what was going on. If I hadn't received the medication, I fear that I would have been too consumed with the pain to remember any of the sensations or my surroundings. Due to the short amount of time, the epidural never completely paralyzed my lower extremities or fully dulled the pain. I was still able to feel each of my contractions and each push as I delivered my baby. To an extent, the pushing was "easy" in comparison to the pain I had been feeling and I had no problem delivering her. She arrived at 6:17pm, after less than 30 minutes of pushing. She was loud and cried for at least 5 minutes, but she was happy and healthy.
I was neither bothered, nor did I experience any pain, from the after-birth, being stitched up, or having my abdomen "massaged". Based upon my calculations, my labor lasted just about 6 hours, and I progressed from 5-10cm in less than two hours. Which is 1cm every 22 minutes. Which normally takes 8-12 hours. I only mention this in order to make myself feel less like a wimp since I was ugly crying for about 2 hours and wasn't able to go without medication as I had originally planned.
In all of these moments, I am so thankful that I was surrounded by such supportive individuals. Having my mother, husband, and sister there to keep me as calm as possible, remind me of my breathing, hold my hand, and see me go through the most painful and amazing experience of my life is something I will never stop being grateful for. I couldn't have done it without each of them....or that epidural. ;)
