I can hardly believe it has been only a week since Little A decided to grace us with her presence (two days late, I may add, and I'll never let her forget it!)... it seems like a lifetime ago. I am so grateful that Anna was able to come into town the next day and assist in Little D duties (ie baseball pitcher, swing pusher, racing buddy, etc) since she has been a huge help to us. I will be super incredibly sad to see her leave (not to mention we will probably be dealing with an epic meltdown on some little guy's part!) but alas the news would not be the same in Champaign without her.
Without further ado: Little A's VBAC story. Unedited. If birth stories gross you out, read no further and come back later.
Total "labor" time: 23 hours and 39 minutes.
Last Wednesday at 6:30 am I was woken up by none other than little d. I rolled out of bed and downstairs, helped him change his clothes and we played for awhile before settling into breakfast. Mr. D joined us for breakfast around 7:30, I remember having to get up to go pee at least twice, and both times were
if I don't go this very second I will pee my pants desperate. I cursed my tiny pregnant smushed bladder and figured incontinence was something I should probably settle into and get used to for the next week (having resigned myself to the fact that baby girl was going to be a no show). Little did I know,
that was my water breaking.
With little d, I was fully dilated and effaced and about ready to start pushing when my water finally broke, which it did with a big gush (one of the grossest moments of my life, to be sure). Needless to say, it did not even enter my mind that my water would break before the onset of my contractions. When we neared 9am, I was having to rush to the bathroom every 20ish minutes to "pee", nothing was leaking inbetween but when I would sit down it was, well, a mini gush of fluid. I knew if I didn't go the gym and this wasn't my water breaking it would really jinx it, so at 9:20 we headed (late) to the gym for my tri-weekly power lifting class. Everyone knows me by name and of course was super bummed that I showed up at all (since every time I come in late they assume I am in labor). I felt fine lifting my 20-25 pounds (down from 30-35 a few classes before) until we got up from doing tricep work on our backs (I was at an angle on a bench of course) and I felt the urge to go to the bathroom, so I went. Another gush. I looked up on my phone "how to know if my water broke" and it mentioned something about being clear and the smell... that it would not smell like urine. Ok, that made sense and it appeared that was what was going on. But I'm stubborn and wanted to finish the class, so I went back and finished. I felt great. Still no contractions, but I was hopeful they would come soon if my water was indeed broken.
At 10:30am, on the way home from the gym, I called Mr. D and told him to quickly shower and get ready, that we would be heading over to my Dr's office near my inlaws (so we could drop off little d) and I could take a test there to determine if it was amniotic fluid that was indeed leaking out of me. I called my doctor and described what had happened and he told me to skip going to his office and go right to the hospital. I tried not to jump for joy as we made it home, showered, and gathered all the stuff I had been accumulating over the last few months: a overnight bag and backpack for little d, purse and overnight bag for myself, gifts for little d, and some snacks. I have never been so grateful to have giant pads on hand pre-purchased like I did on the way to the hospital, where it felt like every bump made me leak even more. Still no contractions.
11:45am we dropped off little d at my inlaws, promising I would be pushing out his sister (finally!) so he could see her. He seemed excited but probably just because he knew he was about to be spoiled rotten for the next little while while I was at the doctor's. We made it to the hospital just after noon and they admitted me immediately. There was a lot of waiting around after I changed into my hospital clothes, but at least I didn't get turned away (one of my biggest fears since that happened last time) and I was actually pretty comfortable, minus the leaking. A nurse finally got around to checking my cervix and I was still at a "1"... no dilation since my doctor checked me earlier that week. I admitted that I had not been feeling any contractions so they went ahead and started me on antibiotics at 1pm(I tested positive again for group B strep, which isn't bad for me, it was really just to protect baby girl from getting sick, and the risk of infection rises when my water is broken, hence why they admitted me to the hospital without checking me first). Once we got there and they informed me I was not allowed to eat I immediately regretted my decision not to have lunch before we left... I had been snacking on some nuts and grapes since leaving the house and aside from cereal that morning it was all I had eaten that day.
2pm the nurses realized that after monitoring me for an hour, I wasn't lying. There were no contractions to be found, so, begrudgingly I allowed them to put me on pitocin. I didn't really have much of a choice since I wasn't progressing and they said that once my water broke they wanted to be sure I would have my baby within 24 hours (by 7:30 am Thursday). I was nervous because I knew pitocin would increase my chances of having a uterine rupture or something else to cause a repeat c-section, so they assured me they would be upping my dose slowly. If things went along like last time with little d, they figured once they got my contractions started, my body would take over and know what to do. Unfortunately little A's head was still so high up, they figured it would probably take quite awhile to work its way down. Boy, were they right!
3pm it started to get "busy" in the maternity ward. I didn't exactly understand (coming from a first delivery in Utah) how 12 ladies in labor was considered busy, but my nurse (all of whom were much older than I thought possible, aren't you supposed to be retired once you can't really hear your patients?) recommended I go ahead and get my epidural before things started to get really uncomfortable and the anesthesiologists got too busy. They had Mr. D leave the room for 30 minutes (that didn't happen last time with little d) and a cute little Indian lady read me my rights and placed my epidural. I guess I only remember the epidural from the c-section because I thought it was weird to still be able to move my legs, even if they did feel a little heavier than usual. Even weirder to be getting my epidural placed when I wasn't even feeling contractions, although I was supposedly getting quite a few, three minutes apart on average. I thought it was odd that they didn't put in a catheter but somehow I was able to hold in my bladder except for the times they put in a temporary catheter to empty my bladder.
4:30pm came and went and finally someone came in to check my cervix for the first time since when I checked in. Still a "1". They thought maybe it was because they kept having to empty my bladder so they put in a permanent catheter and I was left with a popsicle for the next two hours. I was starving! STARVING. I would have done anything for some food, ANY food. The commercials during a Friends marathon kept me salivating, while mentally making a checklist of all the food I was going to eat once this was all said and over with.
6:30pm two hours had passed since I had seen a nurse and I was only a 2. A TWO! THAT's IT?! I desperately asked for and received another popsicle and somehow caught a glimpse of a paper that informed me only siblings 14 years and older who had the flu shot were allowed in the maternity ward. I lost it. I had been away from my baby boy for going on seven hours and now they were going to tell me he wasn't allowed to come visit me?!?! Tears were pouring down my cheeks and I no longer cared about that stupid popsicle, I just wanted to be home with little d. As grateful as I was that Mr. D was able to be by my side that day, he wasn't the one I spent just about 24/7 with, and I felt that piece of my heart was missing. Would I ever see him again!? Gosh, it hurt so bad. Mr. D saw me getting hysterical and was quick to ask a nurse about visitations and she assured him little d would be allowed in, that this was a family friendly hospital. Crisis averted.
7pm the pitocin really started kicking in and I could feel the contractions but they were still not nearly even remotely close to what I had with little d before being admitted to the hospital last time. We started watching the Red Sox game and I realized I had not watched this much TV in a really long time; I was starting to get sick of it already.
7:20pm I gave myself my first shot of epidural...for those of you who don't know, when they put it in your spine you get a constant dose of it, and then you can get a little extra if you push a button. I was able to call little d and he spoke with me for a few minutes. He was on the ipad (no surprise there) but he was happy, having taken a long nap that afternoon and then being able to play with his uncle and grandparents. I was relieved and told him to enjoy his sleepover and that I would see him tomorrow, hoping and praying that I was telling him the truth. I got a new nurse, Darlene, and fell in love with her instantly. She referred to little A by name and was never shy about pronouncing how well she was doing during the contractions. Darlene would become my best friend before her shift was through.
8:30pm even while switching from multiple sitcoms to the Red Sox and Celtics game, I could not be distracted enough to notice the pain from the contractions. I had been moved multiple times in a couple different positions to "even out" the epidural but all I could feel were my contractions, and all I could NOT feel were my dead weight legs. I got another popsicle.
9, 9:30, 9:45... my will to only push the button every half hour was waning. It seemed like the drugs were pooling in my dead legs and nothing was stopping the pain I felt from the contractions. By 10pm Darlene wants me to sleep and so she calls in the anesthesiologist to give me a little boost on my dose.
11pm I continue to drug myself, the pain only getting worse as I find I am having to use some serious focus and yoga breath to keep from moaning out loud. They bring Mr. D a cot and he eventually falls asleep, not bothering to set his alarm for work (7am) the next day since we are pretty sure that with the severity of my contractions and how long we have been there, baby girl should be out within a few hours.
2am rolls around and I am LIVID. It takes everything in my power to take 10 slow, deep, focused breaths to get through each contraction. I can't focus on anything else but that clock, willing those 40 seconds to go faster so I can again find relief. You know that pain scale they show you at the hospital? I was maybe a 1 or 2 when I came in, and this was a 10...as in OMG THIS IS THE MOST AMOUNT OF PAIN I HAVE EVER EXPERIENCED.... IS THIS WHAT IT FEELS LIKE TO DIE? CAN IT POSSIBLY GET ANY WORSE THAN THIS??
By 3:30 am Mr. D is snoring beside me and I am trying not to have a panic attack. I have never had to deal with so much pain and all I can think of is that I need to let my body relax and do its job so this hellish torment can be over with as fast as possible. With every contraction, every breath was focused on relaxing my muscles, envisioning baby girl working her way down the birth canal. Darlene kept reminding me how well little A was doing through each contraction...she was even sleeping through some of them! Having had my first c-section in large part because of fetal distress, this was the best thing I could have heard.
at 4am, Darlene couldn't wait any longer. She had me checked (I was only a "4", I still had a long way to go!) and then she chased down (literally!!) the anesthesiologist and we made the decision to take out the first epidural and put in a new one. He reminded me (mid-contraction of course) that if the first one didn't work there was a possibility this second one wouldn't work as well. I wanted to scream and run and pull my hair out and cry but instead I just nodded and kept breathing, focusing on Darlene's hands holding mine and continuing to encourage me by telling me how relaxed and poised I was. By some small miracle we were able to get a second epidural placed and within 30 minutes I was drug from hell and put back in heaven again. I felt pressure but no pain.
4:30am I finally fell asleep and it was the best hour of sleep of my life... I had been awake nearly 22 hours!
5:30am I woke up with a start. I waited a few minutes to be sure but there was definitely pressure on my bum... I was feeling a serious need to push! Having not been checked for hours (I guess that is protocol when your water breaks, to minimize the chances of infection), I was elated when she announced that while I was having a contraction she could feel Little A's head! WHAT?! I woke up Mr. D, pulled up my legs and started pushing with each contraction. I joked with my nurse Darlene that we would have this baby out by the end of her 7:30 shift and she swore she would not leave my side until she saw baby girl.
6:15am after nurses telling Mr. D to look down there to see his baby girl's head during contractions, I couldn't wait any longer. I sprang at the change to get a mirror down there and surprised myself by not just being fascinated but being motivated with each push to see that little head crowning inside my body. I couldn't believe it (and this coming from a person who swore she would rather die than 1) have her husband even peeking down there while she was in labor and 2) have to witness herself the horror of a baby wrecking her lady bits). This was absolutely amazing and when a few interns who were about to graduate in a few weeks and had never seen a vaginal delivery showed up and wanted to watch, I surprised myself and welcomed them to watch, along with about a half dozen other strangers. the interns, two girls who reminded me of my own sisters, were sweet and helped keep me cool in between pushes, and got the camera ready so Mr. D could do more watching than videoing.
7am I was doing this. I was laboring and about to have a vaginal delivery. I could feel things being stretched in ways I never wanted them to be but none of that mattered; I was about to meet my daughter. I knew my body in such an intimate way as I had never known it before. I thought I knew my body when I ran the marathon last year, but this year was even different, better perhaps because I felt so close to my Savior, my Heavenly Father, and the moment I pushed her out and heard "7:11 am!" I knew I had just caught a glimpse of heaven. As they brought little A to my arms, wet with fluids and warm to my chest, I was so overwhelmed with love. Love for Mr. D. Love for my daughter, and son, even if he wasn't there. Love for Darlene and everyone else who helped coach me to this point. I was so unbelievably happy. Even as they stitched me back up from my second degree tears, I was still on cloud nine.
I did it. I got my VBAC after all.
