First off, I'll share a little about her birth. Please be aware that I will be going into detail that may just bore you, but this is for us to have a record of these events when the memories begin to fade more than they already have.
I went into labor around 9:00 in the evening on Tuesday, July 15th, after I convinced Felipe to go for a three mile power walk with me -- or, more accurately, three one mile power walks, since I had to get back to the house for bathroom breaks between miles. It must have been a sight, this pregnant woman a few days from her due date, stomping up and down the road with fierce determination. It was during the last mile when I started getting contractions, though they were bearable at that point. By midnight, they were three minutes apart and lasting for about a minute, and I was ready to go to the hospital. My mom met us in the emergency parking lot (the only entrance open at that hour), and I remember falling to my knees when I was hit with a particularly strong contraction. The hospital policy is to send an someone down with a wheelchair when labor and delivery patients come in, so after being wheeled up, I was placed in a room to have my contractions monitored. For two hours, I used breathing exercises to handle the pain, and the contractions kept coming fast and strong, but since I was still only dilated to two centimeters, the nurse sent me home with a muscle relaxant and instructions to return when I was no longer able to talk.
I labored through the night, and my contractions became less regular but more intense. Every time I started to drift off, I was awakened by another one. Felipe had to leave for work around 6:30, so my mama came to spend the day with me and work from our apartment after he was gone. She downloaded a contraction timer app onto her phone and kept track of them throughout the day. Felipe returned home in the afternoon and he was in dire need of a nap, so while he worked on regaining energy for what was to come, I crawled around in the living room, rocking back and forth on my knees and counting 1-2-3-4, 4-3-2-1. By that point, I realized I was having back labor, and each time a contraction hit, I cringed in fear as it wrapped around my torso.
Although I don't remember the exact sequence of events, I do remember that I ran a bath around 1 or 2 in the morning (it was the morning of Thursday, July 17th now), and while sitting in the tub, I called my doctor's office. I'm not sure what my thought process was, but I was desperate by that point and the pain was intensifying each minute. I was afraid of going back to the hospital and being sent home once again. The person who answered kept asking ridiculous questions like, "Do you think you might be in labor?" until I finally lost my ability to answer and handed the phone over to Felipe while I groaned in pain. She told him the on call doctor would be in touch. A few minutes later, Dr. McMillan called me back, and I had clearly interrupted his sleep. I was choking back tears and explaining my predicament, to which he replied, "Can't you just wait until Friday morning to get checked? I mean, if you're that uncomfortable, I guess you could go to the hospital again."
I was that uncomfortable.
So off we went, but this time, there was no waiting for my mama to show up. I was whisked up to the observation room again, and Elizabeth, 'the sweet nurse who checked my dilation this time announced that I was 5 centimeters and would not be going home again. I started laughing and crying and clapping and squealing, exactly as I had the day we'd gone to our ultrasound and found out our baby was a girl. The funny part? I'd gone from desperately wanting some kind of pain medication to feeling no pain at all. The contractions, though still very intense, seemed so insignificant. I was going to give birth to my baby girl before I saw the light of day again! My mom walked in and snapped a photo of my joy:
Once admitted, I was given a birthing ball to bounce on. And I did, happily moving through contractions. The next time I was checked, I was 7 centimeters dilated, and the nurses were confident I'd be having this child in no time.
Soon, I was 8 centimeters, and the pain was getting real again. My contractions were lasting about 90 seconds and coming every two minutes, so I barely had time to breathe, and I had to ask my visitors to leave the room. Nathan, his girlfriend Jen, Jonathan, Patrick and Dylan were all sitting in the waiting room, hoping for the news of Ivory's arrival... but the hours passed, and nothing changed. By 12:00 noon, I realized I hadn't slept since Monday night, and my body was worn out. Forty hours of back labor to the point where I no longer remembered how to count to 4, and I was ready to ask for help. I told Dana, the nurse who had replaced Elizabeth that morning, that I wanted an epidural.
Once I made the choice to get help with my pain, it couldn't come fast enough. I was told that Dan, the anesthesiologist, was having lunch in the cafeteria and it would be a few minutes before he could arrive. I begged Felipe and my mama to go down and find him, drag him up to my room, and stick that needle deep into my spine. They refused. When Dan finally did show up, he quickly did his job, then waited to see if it worked. It did, and I almost proposed to him, but instead, I just told him that he was my absolute favorite person in that hospital (sorry, Felipe, Mom, Nathan, Jen, Jonathan, Patrick and Dylan). And I fell asleep in absolutely bliss, clutching the stuffed puppy Uncle Nate bought for his new niece.
When I awoke, I started to feel back pain again, though it was dull. I told myself I must be imagining things and didn't say anything, but each time I felt it, I'd look up and see that I was in the middle of a contraction, and I became almost paralyzed with fear. When asked to explain what the contractions felt like later, all I could say was that it must be like someone taking a chainsaw to my lower back, over... and over... and over again. At some point, Dr. Wilson came in and broke my water, hoping that would speed up the dilation process. Hours were continuing to pass, and my contractions continued to come just as frequently, but no progress was being made.
The rest is a blur. My epidural wore off and I was given another dose, twice, before they asked me to start Pitocin. I was an emotional, sleep deprived mess, and I'd started to run a fever. Dana had been replaced by a new nurse, Melissa, who had seen me two days before when I'd first come in and been sent home, and Dr. Wilson was replaced by Dr. McMillan once again. In my daze of terror that the pain and labor would never end, I responded to a warning of a possible c-section with, "Please, can I have one?"
They turned down my epidural and started the Pitocin, and I panicked. Dr. McMillan was being called to do emergency surgery, and I pleaded for a chance to try to push, even though I wasn't seemingly ready. He agreed under the condition that I get Ivory into position within 3 pushes while he sat at his desk and ate pizza. Dana, though she should have left a long time before, had stayed around to witness the birth that she'd waited for all day. I started pushing. Felipe tells me that the doctor came in with his slice of pizza to observe, but I didn't notice.
25 minutes later, our baby girl arrived at 8:51pm on July 17, 2014. Outside the door, Patrick and Jen stood in the hallway listening for her cry, and they took this picture when they heard it for the first time:
My own mama transformed into Mamaw right before my eyes:
This has gotten quite lengthy, so I'll write more later.
No comments:
Post a Comment