September 13, 2011 -
The long-awaited Tuesday morning finally came. Josh and I were awake bright and early as scheduled. Our bags were packed and by the door the night before, so when both sets of "grandparents" arrived, we set off to have our last breakfast as a single couple. However, as simple as this sounds, the actual act of leaving the house as just the two of us for the last time ever, was incredibly emotional. I'm still not sure if it was fear of labor, fear of being parents, or just a plain old wave of overwhelming emotion, but the second we opened our front door to leave I started crying (in reality it was more of a sobbing scene). After getting myself under control, which was the first of MANY times I would have to do that in the next few days, we preceded to enjoy our breakfast and head to the hospital.
After we checked in at the hospital, we were seen to our labor and delivery room, where the big event was set to happen. I was given an internal Cervadil capsule soon after getting settled into our room. I was told that this would be their first attempt to start dilation (prior to this I was still at 0cm/0%). A few minutes after this was administered the nurses returned to hook me up to monitors and IVs, at which time I notified them that I wasn't feeling quite right. I started to get cold sweats, dizziness and my hearing started to go. This, of course, scared the shit out of my husband, as well as the other family members in the room. What a way to start our day! Everything was stabilized and I started feeling better within minutes. One of the supervising doctors came in to evaluate me and told us it was just a Vasovagal reaction, that my blood vessels had constricted, probabaly just due to stress, and that everything was fine with me and the baby.
From here on out, for the rest of the day, things were pretty uneventful. After a few hours of no response from the Cervadil, I was started on Pitocin. Although I had heard tons of horror stories about how quickly and strongly Pitocin-induced contractions were, apparently I was immune. Since I was hooked up to the monitors, we could see each contraction as it was happening. Occasionally I would feel a slight pain in my stomach during the contractions, but I never felt what I would consider real pain. Each few hours nurses would return and turn up my dosage of Pitocin. To monitor my progress, I was "checked" a few times throughout the day by the various supervising doctors. Um...ouch. Every time they would come in, I would be so confident that maybe, just maybe, they were going to check me and tell me I was progressing. However, despite the horrific pain of having a rubber-gloved hand make its way pretty much entirely up my already swollen and tender baby-maker, I got no such reward. Each time they checked me I heard the same thing: "still at 0"..."well, maybe a 1/2 cm"..."no progress". After an entire day of no progress, our families decided to head home for some rest, with plenty of assurance that if anything happened they would be called immediately. No doubt every phone in each of their houses was placed as close to the bed as possible. In fact, I don't doubt my mom set an alarm to go off every 1/2 hour, just so she could check her text messages.
Josh and I settled in for the night, amazed at how a day of sitting around a hospital room had fully exhausted us both. I was able to get some sleep early on, but was woken up about every hour or two by nurses coming to check my monitors and IV, and once again increase my Pitocin. At one point, sometime in the early hours of the morning, I woke up with pretty painful contractions. Although I was beginning to feel the first real pain of that entire day, I was excited that things were finally happening. As each contraction came on, I closed my eyes and concentrated on breathing through it. There were only a few minutes in between each one, and they were coming on steadily for about an hour. Then, they just stopped. When the next nurse came in to check on me, she informed me that I had maxed out my allowed Pitocin, and that they would need to back me off, and then restart the process of increasing my dosage once again. HOW.INCREDIBLY.FRUSTRATING. Before I knew it, the sun was up, and my contractions were once again stagnant.
Our families started arriving early that morning, fully expecting news of progress and me writhing in the thrawls of painful contractions. Disappointingly for them, I was in no pain at all...extreme fatigue and discomfort, yes...pain, regrettably no. Wednesday progressed much as Tuesday had, slowly increasing doses of Pitocin, very mild contractions, ever-increasing hunger as I had not eaten since breakfast Tuesday morning.
My favorite doctor from the women's group, Doctor DeAngelis, was set to be on delivery that afternoon, and I was thrilled when she finally came into my room to talk about my progress. She checked me, once again resulting in me nearly crying in pain, and her telling me that I had finally reached a "fingertip dilation". Yippee, you mean to tell me that in the past 30 hours, I've managed to get to a whole fingertip. If you aren't sensing an elephant-sized mound of sarcasm here, then you've never endured 30 hours of limited sleep and NO food, only to be told it was pretty much all for nothing. Dr. DeAngelis started talking about my options, as I had once again maxed out my 2nd round of Pitocin. Since I had gestational diabetes, they wouldn't let me go past 40 weeks, so waiting little Nora out was not an option. I had the choice of either returning in 5 days to give it another try, at which time I would either begin hard labor within the first 24 hours or have a C-section. Option number 2 was to go ahead with the C-section later that evening. We were given a few hours to think about it, as the room they used for surgery was full until later that night. It didn't take long for me to decide that I would rather go ahead and get it over with now, rather than going through this scenario all over again less than a week later.
So, it was official. My all-natural, drug-free, no-chance-of-a-C-section childbirth that I had planned out, in detail, in my head flew right out that hospital room window. Then the reality of it all started to sink in: having a rather large needle stuck into my spine, followed by lying naked on a metal table, surrounded by unfamiliar faces in surgical masks, then being cut into and ripped apart, as a tiny being is extracted from inside me. No lie, that's exactly the image I was seeing played over and over again in my now-terrified mind. Josh and I went into the hospital room bathroom to grab a few minutes of alone time and for me to refocus myself. (Remember earlier when I had mentioned having to compose my emotions several times throughout the next few days? Well, this is where that element of the birth story resumes.)
As we eagerly and trepidatiously watched the clock, I must have lost and regained control of my emotions a million more times. I had never thought I would end up with a C-section, so I naively chose not to educate myself on the procedure. Thankfully, one of the nurses that had been with me all day, Nurse Schaeffer (I think her first name was Sue), was especially patient and understanding. At one point she spent a half hour at my bedside answering my questions and explaining everything to me in detail. On a scale of 1-10, with 1 being relaxed and 10 being ready to jump off a building, she had helped me move from a 15 down to about a 7.
Finally, it was my turn. They wheeled my hospital bed out of the room, down the hall, and into the surgical area. I was placed in a large, very white, very sterile room with a handfull of doctors and nurses folding towels, counting tools (I tried not to think about what they would be used for), and preparing the baby-warming area. I was transferred to the metal table, where Dr. DeAngelis and another of the doctors began asking questions about the baby, which was a very welcome distraction, as the anesthesiologist prepped his "supplies". When he was ready, I was instructed to arch my back and told that I would feel a small pinch as I was given the numbing agent, prior to receiving the spinal block. I felt a very small pinch, followed by a second equally-mild one. He told me I would start feeling numbing in my legs, and I couldn't believe he was done already. I was so happy that the big-bad-needle part was over that I don't remember being afraid from there on out. As the block began to work, a warm feeling quickly spread through my body and I felt like I had peed myself at first. Soon after that I realized that I could no longer move my legs, which sent my brain into panic-mode and I began shaking uncontrollably. The anesthesiologist informed me that this was quite normal, and he was going to give me something to combat the shaking. At this point, my husband was allowed to come in, and he was equally disturbed by my uncontrollable shaking. A few minutes later the shaking subsided, and the doctors were well on their way to delivering our little girl.
As the doctors worked I could feel tugging and pressure around my stomach area, but in no way did I feel any pain. Before we knew it, they were telling us that they could see her, and then we heard the most amazing sound that we've ever heard. At 9:05pm on Wednesday, September 14, Nora let out one loud, strong cry and then Josh and I both started to cry...she was finally here! They cleaned her off and sat her on the scale, and Josh went over to meet her. She measured 19.5 inches and was 7lbs. 14oz., exactly what Josh and I both weighed when we were born. They finished stitching me up, and Josh brought her over for me to see her. She was SO cute, and nothing like what I had expected. She looked nothing like her 3-D ultrasound, and nothing like Josh. When they finished cleaning me up, they moved me back into my hospital bed and handed Nora to me, all bundled in her swaddle blankets, and looking up at me so sweetly. I cuddled her as they wheeled us back to my room to meet her new family.
I can't say enough about how that one little moment was more moving and more special than my entire 26 years of life had been. No matter what my worries, obsessions, fears or pain had been up to that point, after Nora nothing mattered. Now, 7 months later, I still feel that way. You've heard it said a million times, but there is nothing like a mother's love for her child. Money, career, beauty...all of it is so worthless when compared to my little girl. As I re-read the blog from my pregnancy, it all seems like such a small price to pay for such a wonderful gift. The discomfort, the sickness, the stretchmarks...what a meager sacrifice for such a miraculous little person. Not a single day goes by that I don't thank God for my Nora. We are so blessed to have her in our lives.
**I have to give some recognition to the doctors and nurses in the L&D wing at the Reading Hospital. We had the pleasure of being served by so many terrific, kind individuals, there is no doubt we will return there should we be blessed with another little one. They put up with a fair share of sarcasm, disgruntled behavior, and disregard for hospital policies (such as trying to enter the surgical room --ahem, grandmoms!). Thank you!!!
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