The Birth Story

Who writes a birth story when her baby is four months old?  This girl, apparently.  I’ve been planning to do it ever since our son was born, but I kept putting it off for one reason or another.  I really want to write the story for two reasons.  One: I am nosy and enjoyed/benefited from reading the birth stories that other bloggers shared.  Two: I want a reality check if we start thinking about a sibling for Isaac…you know, to ask myself if I really want to do all of that again!

Based on my take on pregnancy, you may or may not be surprised to hear that I had no birth plan whatsoever.  This was sort of intentional, but also perpetuated by the fact that I had a few minor complications throughout my pregnancy so I kept getting direction along the lines of, “you will have a c-section at 37 weeks,” then “we’ll let you go full term and deliver naturally,” and finally, “we’re inducing you just before your due date.”

Here is what I did know going in:

• I wanted our baby to be delivered at the nearest major medical center with a neonatal intensive care unit, just in case (even if said hospital is an hour away).
• I wanted to do whatever was safest for the baby and me, natural or not.
• I wanted to reduce the pain as much as possible.
• I did not want Chris to see anything below my belly button.

With all of that in mind, here is the story of how we met this little guy on Tuesday, December 28, at 10:34 p.m.

We learned around the 37th week of pregnancy that we would be induced a day or two before my due date, which was December 31.  As we got closer, our scheduled induction date and time was December 27 at 6 a.m.  We were certain that before the end of that day, we would have our little miracle in our arms.  I’ve already given away the end of the story, so you know it was a whole day later when the little guy finally arrived…

As we somehow knew would happen when we selected a hospital an hour away with our baby being due during the winter, a major snowstorm was on its way.  Not just any snow storm, of course.  We New Englanders are used to that.  No, it was what they were calling “The Blizzard of 2010.”  Those of you here in the Northeast may recall the storm that hit the night after Christmas, and it was sizable to say the least.

Given that we were due to be at the hospital at 6 a.m. the next morning, during the height of the storm, we packed up and headed to Bangor, Maine, a day early and checked ourselves in to a hotel so that we were mere minutes away from the hospital.  Not feeling up for going out, we packed plates of our leftover Christmas meal and heated them up at the hotel.  Nothing like a home-cooked meal away from home!  We got to bed early knowing that this would be our last good night’s sleep for ages and set our alarms for 5 a.m. the next morning.

Naturally, we barely slept at all and we watched the minutes pass all night.  Finally, it was time to get ready.  Chris went down to clear off the car and warm it up while I called the hospital to verify that they were ready for me (something they instruct all patients who are being induced).  Apparently the hotel staff questioned Chris about whether or not he was actually going out driving in this storm.  But nothing was stopping us, not even a blizzard.  Well, except for my call to the hospital, that is.

Unfortunately with the snowstorm came a rush of babies, meaning the hospital was full and they wanted me to come in later.  They said they would call with a new time.  I waddled downstairs and out into the swirling snow to inform Chris that he could come turn off the car and come back in. We were both wide awake, so going back to bed was not an option.  Instead, we were the first and only people to take advantage of the breakfast buffet.  Thinking that this would be my last meal before having the baby, I followed the advice of doctors and ate lightly…something I regretted later in the morning!

We waited and waited for a call from the hospital.  We both tried to nap and we were semi-successful.  Finally the hospital called around 9:30 a.m. and informed us that 11 a.m. was our time.  Yes!

Then the phone rang again.  My doctor was thinking twice about my situation.  Because I wasn’t dilated at all at my appointment earlier that week, she was thinking that it would be best to do a Cervadil treatment overnight (something that “softens and ripens”…really, who uses those words in reference to a cervix!?).  Doing so would reduce the amount of time that I needed to be on the dreaded Pitocin drip.  She asked if I would be willing to come in at 6 p.m. that night instead.  I hesitantly agreed, knowing it was best in the long run, but wondering what the heck we would do all day when our hotel check-out time was 11 a.m. and the city of Bangor was half shut down due to snow.

We arranged for a 2 p.m. check out time, thinking we could fill the rest of the day with a movie and dinner before heading to the hospital.  Up to that point, it was the longest day of my life.  Finally, 2 p.m. came and we headed over to the very quiet movie theater to see Little Fockers, which was not that enjoyable but certainly passed the time.  The snow was still falling fast and furious and the city was as dead as can be.  We decided on the Nintey-Nine restaurant for dinner (one of the few places that was open).  We were the only people there when we walked in, though a few others came in after.

Knowing I had plenty of time, I indulged in a large pasta, chicken and broccoli fettuccine dish.  I’m pretty sure I ate the whole thing, plus garlic bread.  It was the longest, most quiet dinner we had ever had.  Neither of us were very chatty.  We were just ready.

As instructed, I called the hospital again to confirm my arrival time.  “Oh, can we bump you to 7 p.m.”, they asked?  Really!?  This time we just went to the hospital and sat in the parking garage.  We had no where else to go and nothing else to do.  Finally at 6:30 p.m. we went and checked in…they didn’t seem to notice that we were early.

I was quickly changed into a gown and given my Cervadil treatment, which was a painless process.  And the good news was that I was 1 centimeter dilated, which means I had made at least some progress.  The bad news was that I had to wear an external fetal heart and contraction monitor, which meant people checking in on me all night and not a lot of sleep.  I took the Ambien that they offered anyway…anything could help, right?  Around 10 p.m. I insisted that Chris head back to a hotel.  Since nothing was going to happen that night and we were both exhausted, it seemed to make sense that he try to get some good sleep in a quiet hotel room.   He left me and my monitors promising to be back around 6 a.m. the next day.

At 5 a.m. the sweet nurse woke me up and offered me a shower.  Knowing this was my last chance for a while, I took it.  She seemed to think I was a little crazy when I was drying my hair.  I’m not that vain, I just didn’t want to lay on a wet head of hair for the morning!  Chris was back right on time and before we knew it, the IV was in and the induction was started.

I hadn’t really read that much about inductions, but for some reason I assumed that it would be a fairly quick process.  This belief was further perpetuated when a midwife came in at 9 a.m. to break my water.  I thought, “this is going to happen in no time!”  Because I had the condition of too much amniotic fluid during pregnancy, breaking my water was a little more intense than I imagined.  Although it was uncomfortable, this little procedure was the least painful thing all day.

The nurses were having a hard time monitoring my contractions (they later decided that the equipment wasn’t working right), and as a result, they were having a hard time administering the Pitocin.  I tried to tell them that I was having contractions even if they couldn’t see them on the screen, but they weren’t convinced.  So more Pitocin for me!  Eventually they decided to insert an external fetal heart monitor and contraction monitor.  The fetal heartbeat one was no problem.   But the contraction monitor?  Well, let’s just say that it needs to go between the pelvic bone and the baby’s head, and it takes some maneuvering to get it there.

My advice to you?  If you need this internal monitor, get an epidural first.  It was the most painful thing all day, except for the actual delivery, of course. It didn’t help that a resident inserted the monitor and I don’t think he had done it before.  He didn’t do it well because it came out.

By then it was 2 p.m., I was having intense contractions one on top of the other, and I was only 3 cm dilated.  You can bet that it was then that I demanded an epidural.  Luckily, the anesthesiologist was prompt.  I quickly discovered that his promptness was his only good trait, especially after he had to insert the epidural a second time after messing up the first time.  Visions of being paralyzed passed through my brain between fighting through contractions.

But then the epidural set in and I was golden.  The contractions were off the chart on the screen, but I couldn’t feel a thing.  I read a book and caught up on emails.  I even did a happy dance from the waist up when I saw that our nursery was featured by Sherry and John from Young House Love.

I should mention my sweet husband, who was perfect throughout the whole thing.  I’m sure the nurses thought he was a jerk as he sat off to the side playing trivia games on his phone, but we had made a deal…he wouldn’t ask me if I needed anything; I would tell him if I needed something.  You see, someone constantly asking me if I was okay would drive me insane.  I knew he was there if I needed him, but frankly, I would rather have gripped the bed handles than his hand.  Sometimes you just need to deal with things on your own.  And truthfully, him being calm and focused in the corner helped me stay calm and focused.  And trust me, he was there by my side when I really needed him later that night…

So all was good in my fuzzy epidural land until about 5:30 p.m.  I was making good progress dilation wise, but that baby was not dropping and they were slightly concerned with his heartbeat.  They gave me an oxygen mask to try to improve his heartbeat status while they discussed the possibility of a c-section.  The baby needed to come down soon or they would need to do something.

It was soon after that I became aware of the epidural that was slowly wearing off, first on one half of my body, then on the next.  Chris grinned as he saw a huge contraction coming off the screen and then felt really bad when he realized that I could feel it.  They whipped in an ultrasound machine to check on the baby and see what his deal was.  Turns out he was facing the wrong way, and was still up pretty high.  I just knew this wasn’t going to be a fun night.

Finally around 8 p.m., well after the epidural wore off, things started happening.  My contractions were nothing like I could describe and I started convulsing.  The sweet but strong Italian doctor who was delivering informed me that this was completely normal “when the baby is coming.”  Finally, the baby was coming.  Given how strong everything felt, I was sure it would just be a few pushes and a matter of minutes before we saw his face.

Wrong.  We started pushing at 8:30 p.m. and didn’t meet our little guy until 10:34 p.m.  It was grueling and there were many times I thought I couldn’t go on.  By the end, Chris and a nurse were holding my back and legs up for me; I just had no strength left.  In the end, they pulled out the vacuum suction to help things along.  Because our baby was facing up instead of down, I was having trouble pushing him past the pelvic bone.  I was wishing we had pulled in the vacuum assist about 2 hours earlier!

Chris and I both cried like babies when we met our sweet son and it was such a relief to finally see him on the outside.

The next few days in the hospital were long.  We stayed an extra night because Ike had jaundice and needed to be under photo-therapy lights and I needed a patch for my epidural site because I was suffering from severe headaches.  We were finally released on Friday at 7 p.m. (New Year’s Eve), our third wedding anniversary.  After five nights away from home, we were thrilled to be at home with our new baby, even if we did just go right to sleep!

And that is the long-and-drawn out story of how we met our baby boy.  Even though he is turning four months next week I (unfortunately and fortunately) remember every single detail.  It was the best and craziest night of our lives.