Brendan's birth- December 29th, 2010
To tell the whole story, I have to start with the day before his birth even though I had very strong Braxton-Hicks for about a week or 2 before that had me wondering if it was time.
On Monday, we went to the mall to exchange some games at Game Stop and then Walmart to do our groceries- something that had started to take a while with my full-blown waddling. While in the store, I started contracting every so often. I didn’t time them or anything, since that tended to happen when I walked around a lot. I got a bottle of water to sip on while we shopped, but still had to stop every so often with a contraction. I had spent weeks using my Braxton-Hicks contractions to practice my breathing and positioning.
We got home at about 9, and I sat on the couch to rest, drinking more water. I knew that dehydration can also cause contractions. The contractions remained intense, so we started to time them. They got stronger to where I had to change my position, because sitting was making them more painful. I leaned over the couch or counter, rocked back-and-forth on hands and knees, rotated on the ball, leaned over the ball, and squatted. I hadn’t had a chance to make my “post-labor meal,” so I made my baked ziti after I showered. John rubbed my back, hugged and held me, and massaged my shoulders. At maybe about 2am, he announced that he was going to bed. After all, he knew he had to work. I joined him, but was unable to sleep.
By 4-ish, I fell apart. I was tired of being in pain and John was asleep, which made me feel worse. I started sobbing, which woke him up (not my intention, really) and he pretty much snapped me out of it and got me to focus. I started breathing through them better, with John’s help. At about 5-ish I got hungry, so I had some yogurt. I don’t know what it was, but after that, the contractions kept making me nauseous and I threw up a few times (5, actually).
I called Kim(our midwife) at about 6, and she talked to me for a bit on the phone, asked some questions about the contractions and what was going on to assess the situation, then sent me to go sit in a tub of warm water with an ice-cold wash cloth on my neck to detract the nausea and to keep sipping on ice water to prevent dehydration. The warm water really did feel amazing. She went to get herself ready and said she would call back in about 20 minutes. When she called back, the contractions had spaced out a bit and then jumped closer together. She said she was going to finish packing and head over. When I hung up with her, I called my mom to ask her to come over too. Jay had been up since about 5:30 or so himself and couldn’t co back to sleep.
Mom came a few minutes later and I could tell she wasn’t really sure what to do. She just started to sweep up the house, which was helpful. Kevin woke up about 7:30 and was somewhat confused by me sitting in his tub. The look on his face was pretty funny! John had to step out and put signs up in both offices, because Paul was on his way to the ER because of shortness of breath. I thought he might be gone 30-45 minutes, but he ended up being gone about an hour. Apparently, there was a freeze overnight and everyone had to chisel out their cars for me today. Of all days!
Kim came while John was gone- at a bit after 9. She checked the baby’s heartbeat immediately to make sure he was doing well, which he was and then we went to my room for her to check the baby’s position and my cervix- the moment of truth! First she checked his heartbeat during a contraction to make sure he was doing well with those. Checking my cervix would let her know whether this was “real labor” or not. She checked me and found that I was only 2 cm- a 1- cm change from my visit last week! I was 70% effaced also, which was a 30% change from last week. I still hadn’t seen my mucous plug, no bloody show. She told me not to get discouraged, that Brendan would be here soon, but it would likely be the following week sometime. She said I was in prodromal labor, which is a prolonged early stage of labor. She then suggested I take Calcium and Magnesium to help the “practice contractions” stop, and assured me that when “real” labor started, nothing would stop it. Benadryl and/or a glass of wine was to help me rest. Kim said these contractions would only tire me and drain my energy for whenever labor really started, so doing what I could to rest was important at this point. She attributed my vomiting to possibly coming down with a stomach bug that was going around. She said if I was getting sick, it would also contribute to unproductive contractions. She stayed for about another 2 hours to see if anything changed, and then left. I was disheartened and somewhat embarrassed to have bothered so many people. I wondered if it was going to be like, “the boy who cried wolf,” and maybe when it was truly time no one would believe it. It was so frustrating that my body drags this stage out for so long.
I took the Calcium and Magnesium, Benadryl, and glass of wine. I was able to rest about 3 hours or so, but I woke up to still feel contractions- now they had become irregular. I told myself I would try not to complain out loud too much and would just go about my day, doing my best to ignore the contractions- or at least not focus on them. I continued the Calcium and Magnesium around the clock to no avail- the contractions eventually began to get closer together again. I refused to time them, sure that I was not in true labor since the quality of the pain was the same. John was sure he would somehow know for sure when I was in labor. Kim said I would definitely know. I would see bloody show or a mucus plug. John came home from work and layed down for a few hours, since he had been up all night with me. When he woke up, he played Xbox for a while. At around 10 pm, I told John to go lay down whenever he got tired because the pain wasn’t going away and I wouldn’t be able to sleep anyway.
My "support board"
I kept myself busy all night. I decided I would use the “false alarm” from that day to try to come up with solutions for all the things that I wished could’ve gone differently. The pain got worse, but I had on some relaxing music and worked on a brochure for John, my mom, and my boys to know how they could support me best. I also made myself a “support board,” with my birth art, the boys’ birth art, baby pictures of the boys, and supportive words and quotes as well as birth art I found online. The support board was for me to focus on when things got very hard toward the end of “real” labor. I had read that women get to a point where they totally lose it and have a hard time focusing or concentrating on anything. I breathed through the contractions while I printed, cut, and glued.
Some time in the very, very early morning (maybe 2 or 3 am?), the pain became stronger. The quality of the pain was the same, though. I balled up my fists and pressed them into my lower flanks with each contraction, which seemed to decrease the intensity to a tolerable level. I focused on my board during each contraction, and it helped to keep my inner dialogue positive. At one point I had to trade out my chair for my exercise ball, because the chair became uncomfortable. I was very frustrated that my prodromal labor didn’t at least give me a break so sleep, but focused my attention on my projects. I started having diarrhea, which added to the frustration. By about 4:30, the pain of the contractions had intensified to the point where it was difficult to bring my hand to my back quickly enough to change the pain at all. I had begun to have difficulty with keeping quiet. I was also beginning to think irrationally, which I attributed to exhaustion. I started to wonder if anything I had in my medicine box, maybe left over from something, could help with this pain.
I decided I should not be alone, cleaned up my mess, and went to my room to whine to John, who kept telling me it would be ok, and that I would be fine. I tried to lay down, but after about 10 minutes couldn’t stand to lay. I got on my hand and knees on the bed and cried. I kept telling John that I felt like I was dying. I said that I made a big mistake in trying to do this at home, because I couldn’t even deal with the fake labor. On one of my trips to the bathroom, I noted watery blood on my liner. At about 6 am, John told me to call Kim. She stayed on the phone with me through a few contractions and talked to me in between. She said since I had been vomiting and now also had diarrhea, I was probably sick and needed to try to rest. I asked what I was supposed to about my pain. Kim tells me to take the vitamin supplements and Benadryl, and I let her know I never stopped taking them. She then suggested that I lean over my exercise ball and rocking back and forth, take a warm bath or shower to help with the pain. I did all that except for the shower/bath. I was scared to get in the tub with no one awake and then have a problem and be alone, and I couldn’t move around enough to get undressed and in the shower.
The pain was intense as hell. After hearing that I was sick and not in labor, it became even more difficult to deal with the pain. I went to the living room to rock on the ball as long as I could, until I couldn’t even control my breathing alone and had begun to scream loudly- then I went to my room again to cry to John (I didn’t want to scare my kids). I got into my room and was going to rock on my hands and knees on my bed, but I couldn’t climb into it. With the next contraction I fell to the floor (like a controlled fall, not like a trip and fall. I guess I lowered myself?) because that one took all my strength away, and I had my first involuntary push– I thought I peed because I pushed so hard and felt fluid. I felt like I had to pee and poop at the same time, so I hurried to my bathroom before the next contraction came. With the next one, I had another huge involuntary push, which scared me because it was like someone was remote-controlling my body. With that push, I felt a huge pressure and a burn out of the WRONG side from what I was expecting! I reached down and felt a warm, slimy and hairy little head and I yelled, “Babe!!!!! The baby is coming NOW!!!!” John yelled, “what?!” and jumped out of bed. “My hand is on his head!” I yelled back. I was tried my best not to push anymore by panting. He didn’t know where any of our birth supplies were (men are so freaking stubborn. I tried to show him before!) and was in a controlled panic. I yelled for him to call the midwife, and he put her on speaker. She started yelling to get me off the toilet, but- dude! His head was in my hand. I wasn’t trying to walk to my bed.
Me, minutes after delivering
My new nursling!
Many thoughts of all that could go wrong at that instant flooded my mind, and I tried to dismiss them and instead go through the motions in my mind of what to do when a baby is born. She gave him directions, and with another contraction and involuntary push, out came Brendan into John’s hands at 7:11 am. He had to pull the membranes from around him, but he was pink and cried almost instantly. It was instant physical and emotional relief! John was still in a controlled panic, wanting to make really sure that the baby was ok. He was perfect. We wrapped him in a towel and I just stared into his little grey eyes. I was in love. Breathing was smooth and effortless, he was even in color and had great muscle tone. I held him close to me to keep him warm while John prepared the bed for us- the waterproof sheet, cheap regular sheet, and a layer of chux pads as well as the plastic bowl for my placenta. He came into the bathroom to help me to the bed. He took Brendan so I could stand, but the umbilical cord was stretch too far to be able to walk that way, so I held him and John held me on the walk to the bed. It was so wierd to have something that felt like a cable hanging from me! We eased into the bed and I began to nurse him. He had an unbelievably strong suck! Shortly after, my placenta detached and John dumped it into the bowl using a chux pad. The midwife instructed him to massage my uterus down, which hurt, but I was only focused on my warm little bundle in my arms. Once we were settled and covered, John went to get Jay and Kevin.
He told them to get up and wash their hands because he had a surprise for them. They followed him to our room, and Jay notices the baby and looks around the room with a surprised expression. “Where’s Kim?” he asks, his expression changing to confusion. John tells them that she’s on her way, and we recount the story to them. They both wanted to hold him right away, but we had them wait until the midwife got there. John didn’t want to cut the cord alone under those circumstances, so Brendan was still attached. Watching those 2 pieces of my heart fall in love with the newest piece of my heart was breath-taking and unforgettable. They admired every facet of his body and were curious about the placenta and umbilical cord, which by then had stopped pulsating. I had John call my mom too, and she hurried over in shock.
Kevin- now a big brother
Jay- big brother again!
The midwife arrived a bit after 9 am and came straight to check me and Brendan. Kim listened to Brendan and then guided John to cut the cord. She inspected the cord and placenta, then got me up to the shower. After I was back to bed, she weighed and measured the baby. He was 8 lbs, 6 oz and 21 1/2 inches long. While I spent more time admiring Brendan, Kevin and Jay came in, more than ready to finally hold their brother. The five of us were in the bed, gushing over our eventful morning. Words can’t even describe the utter elation I felt then, surrounded by the people I love most without any separations or intrusions. The midwife reminded us that I needed a high-protein meal, so John made us all pancakes, eggs, and bacon. John and I ate our breakfast in bed. We had my ziti later on for dinner. Kim cleaned up the birth mess and my mom straightened the house and cleaned the kitchen. It all felt so normal. Like another day, but we just added a person!
A bit after breakfast, I layed down while John stayed with the baby. The rest of the day was much like other days, but the joy, love and appreciation for everyone that helped and supported me through the birth and pregnancy flowed through me like never before. I can honestly say that I have never been more happy than I was that day. I only wish my previous births could have been more like that. I would not mind re-living that experience– knowing I was in labor, of course!
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Kevin’s birth- January 22nd, 2004
For Christmas 2003, we went down to Miami, as we had just moved up to Sebring and both had our families still living there. I believe we went to my mom’s house for Noche Buena (the 24th), but the specifics of that holiday season are unclear to me. We spent the night at Annie’s house (John’s great-aunt), ready to have Christmas morning together with his family. Chris, John’s brother, was to come back with us when we left to come back home.
Some time in the middle of the night, I started to feel a horrible, squeezing pain that took all of my breath and strength away. I couldn’t think. I could barely groan, though I definitely did that. I tried to make myself change positions and get more comfortable, but all my efforts were futile. With well over a month left until my due date, I wondered if this could really be labor. Eventually, I woke John up with my moaning and groaning. After some deliberation that I do not remember, set out for home with Chris. Jay was only 2 1/2 at the time, but fortunately he was always well-behaved on long car rides. On the long ride home we stopped several times: for me to use the bathroom, because of the pain, and also for me to throw up. The trip felt endless.
Once we finally got home, I tried lying down to see if that would help. After some time without relief, I finally called my doctor, but someone I had never met was on call. This doctor suggested I remain on bed rest until I could get in to be seen by own doctor or things got better. To me, that meant there was no relief in sight. Several weeks passed without relief. Chris went back some during that time, and I don’t even know how long he was with us. I went to the hospital a few times, and although the monitor did truly register contractions, they were irregular, though strong and not causing my cervix to show much change. This means that I kept being sent home without any pain relief of any kind- pharmacologic or not- though the one time I did spend the night they did give me some Stadol and forgot about me for the night. I unsuccessfully begged to be induced or something- anything that would help with the pain.
For the remainder of my pregnancy, I did my best to get through the day. Jay watched “Finding Nemo,” which he had received for Christmas, over and over while I laid on the couch wondering how much longer I would have to endure this pain. Eventually, the pain combined with the world’s apparent apathy about my pain made me angry and I tried walking for hours, since I’d heard that it sometimes helped bring about labor. I even bought castor oil, but I was too afraid to actually try it. Nothing I did helped at all. I spent 2-3 weeks dilated to 3cm.
One night, we ordered Chinese food for dinner and my fortune read, “it is almost time.” I set it aside, thinking, “yeah, ok whatever!” I went to the bathroom and noticed a huge glob of blood-tinged mucus in the toilet. I wondered if that was the elusive “mucus plug” I’d read about, but shrugged it off and mentioned it to John. Because I’d mentioned the word “blood,” he grew worried and suggested we go to the hospital. I was so tired of my many pointless trips to the hospital, in which no one seemed to care at all about how horrible I felt; I was a burden, if anything at all. Since my last visit, when I’d spent the night alone, I had decided not to go back unless my water broke or I was really bleeding and told him so. He was very concerned and had me speak to both of our mothers in an effort to try to convince me to go get checked out.
After a long shower and packing Jay an overnight bag, we dropped Jay off at Teri’s house (his cousin) and headed to the hospital for what felt like the millionth time. At my last OB visit, my doctor had “stripped my membranes,” which was very painful, but was supposed to help me go into real labor. My contractions had continued to be just as painful as they’d been, so I figured this procedure did not work for me. Either way, I was scheduled for an induction the following Monday, when I’d be 39 weeks by their calculations.
Our arrival to the hospital was not unlike most of my other visits there. I was in an actual room, instead of the triage room, for the 2nd time. An older nurse came in and set me up on the monitor, then took my vitals & information. Her name was June, which I remember because that was John’s late grandmother’s name. Awhile later, I overheard her end of the conversation with my doctor. I don’t remember exact words, but I remember hearing the gist of it. Basically, they would keep me overnight for observation, but that I had been there frequently and I was most likely still not in real labor. I wanted to run out of the room instantly. I looked over at John, who was asleep and couldn’t validate what I’d just heard. I was so tired of unfruitful nights spent on an uncomfortable bed and feeling like the staff didn’t even know I was there, except for when they were burdened with having to document on me. I felt that if I had to stay miserable and in pain, I’d prefer to stay miserable and in pain in my own bed. When my nurse came in, I cried to her that if they didn’t feel that I was in labor, to please just send me home. The nurse was very patient with me, and told me she would do what she could for me. She said she’d been a nurse for many years and had long ago learned that doctors don’t know everything.
Since Jay’s birth, I’d started listing Demerol as a medication I am allergic to, so I made sure I didn’t get that again. I believe I did get Stadol in my IV, though “to help me relax.” Much of the details of my labor with Kevin are among a muddled blur of tangled, upset emotions. At that point, I think I thoughtlessly would have agreed to anything someone suggested might help me. I was exhausted, in pain, and incredibly discouraged.
My nurse came in at one point to check my cervix and in a hushed voice told me she could strip my membranes for me, though she wasn’t really supposed to. She said if it was up to her, she’d break my water, but she needed a doctor’s order for that. These things were supposed to help my labor progress. Again, my pain was unchanged- no better or worse, just as unbearably horrible as it had been. I have no idea if at some point my labor had been augmented with Pitocin or not. I fell asleep somewhere along the way and at some point, my nurse woke me and told me that if I wanted an epidural, I couldn’t wait much longer, since it was late and they had to page someone to come in. I accepted the epidural and went back to sleep. Later on, anesthesia came by to put it in. On top of all my exhausted discomfort, I also developed itching all over my body- a side effect of the epidural I didn’t know about. Some time later on, my nurse must have put a catheter in, but I don’t remember that. I only remember noticing something was pulling when I tried to turn in bed. She was next to me, charting and told me to be careful with my catheter. John was asleep for almost the entire time, so I know he doesn’t remember me having it put in either. Kevin was finally born around shift change, so the quiet, patient nurse who looked over me all night had gone home and I had a new nurse that I had not seen before. I don’t remember pushing, except that I didn’t do very much of it.
Kevin came out and they placed him on a chux on my belly and asked John if he wanted to cut the umbilical cord. We looked down and saw a purple, almost limp baby lying there quietly. John turned pale and declined the offer. The nurses took Kevin over to the warmer to begin their assessments and began bagging him. From my angle I couldn’t tell if there were chest compressions also, or just the air. I asked repeatedly if he was OK and kept being told he was fine. Some time lapsed and they took him away to the nursery without any explanation other than that they were going to watch him. After a month of suffering unrelenting pain, the physical pain stopped and was replaced by gut-wrenching terror that something happened to my baby. No one would give me a straight answer and once again, I was a prisoner in my bed because of the epidural. I was also still plagued by the total-body itch that overcame me in labor.
When I was finally able to get up and use the bathroom, my entire body felt like I’d been hit by a truck- a feeling I didn’t experience with Jay. There was no part of my body that wasn’t aching. Hours, maybe even a day went by before I could see Kevin. All was a blur of exhausted worry. I had to go to the nursery to see him, and when I did, he had an IV in his little arm. No information was given to me about why he’d had an IV put in or what was wrong. I sat in the hard rocker in the nursery and tried to nurse him, but he wouldn’t wake up. As bad as things were with Jay, he latched on perfectly from the first time, and things fell into place from there. Kevin had been given formula against my consent and against my birth plan, just as Jay had. I had to work hard to wake him up to nurse, and then I had to work to keep him awake during the feeding.
Jay came to see us the next day, and I could tell he was too young to understand what was happening. He had a look on his face like I had betrayed him; leaving him overnight and going to another kid. I was crushed. He didn’t want much to do with me in the hospital.
I left the hospital filled with nothing but questions, but was focused on getting our nursing relationship going well. Time passed and I made myself stop thinking of Kevin’s rough beginning, but I think the fear and worry never truly left me.
Between both the birth experiences and the lack of support in my life with pregnancy, birth, breastfeeding and parenting in general, I vowed never to put myself through that “torture” again. 2 kids was more than enough and all I would ever need or be able to handle starting over with this way again.
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Jay’s Birth- June 11th, 2001
My last OB appointment was on a Thursday. John came with me to this one, after not having been to the majority of appointments, because of his job in a perfume pyramid scam. The nurses checked my vitals and weighed me, as they had done at every visit. When the doctor came in to see me, he looked at the chart and began yelling at the nurses, telling them that it was impossible for someone to gain 15 pounds in a week. He yelled that they needed to pay attention and asked how hard it could be to get a proper reading. He weighed me himself, and then asked me to get off, moved the scale mumbling something and then asked me to get on again. He must’ve been satisfied withteh reading, because I was shown back to my exam room. After a few moments, he came in and did the usual assessments: measured my uterine fundus, palpated the baby, and did a vaginal exam. I was dilated to 2 centimiters, the same as the previous week. I was 38 weeks at this point. “So, are you ready to have this baby?” he asked with smile. “Really?” I replied excitedly. “Sure!” I was 18 years old, excited about having my baby, and tired of being pregnant. I had been living in my mom’s house in Hialeah, and my parents hardly ran the a/c. I was swollen and DONE being pregnant. I had been sick and depressed the entire duration of the pregnancy. By this point I had isolated myself from most of my friends, even though I had just graduated highschool. I wanted it OVER, and he was telling me it could finally end. “How’s Monday sound?” he asked us. I look at John, who was already starting to say yes. The next day, he quit the pyramid scam. Weeks before I had turned in and gone over my birth plan, which included no bottles or pacifiers for the baby, the use of music to soothe me, and not being separated from him after birth. I also was scared of the epidural, but was open to something else for pain. A copy was given to the hospital when I went to pre-register. Everything was in place. I was thrilled. My life was finally looking up.
Brendan's birth- December 29th, 2010
To tell the whole story, I have to start with the day before his birth even though I had very strong Braxton-Hicks for about a week or 2 before that had me wondering if it was time.
On Monday, we went to the mall to exchange some games at Game Stop and then Walmart to do our groceries- something that had started to take a while with my full-blown waddling. While in the store, I started contracting every so often. I didn’t time them or anything, since that tended to happen when I walked around a lot. I got a bottle of water to sip on while we shopped, but still had to stop every so often with a contraction. I had spent weeks using my Braxton-Hicks contractions to practice my breathing and positioning.
We got home at about 9, and I sat on the couch to rest, drinking more water. I knew that dehydration can also cause contractions. The contractions remained intense, so we started to time them. They got stronger to where I had to change my position, because sitting was making them more painful. I leaned over the couch or counter, rocked back-and-forth on hands and knees, rotated on the ball, leaned over the ball, and squatted. I hadn’t had a chance to make my “post-labor meal,” so I made my baked ziti after I showered. John rubbed my back, hugged and held me, and massaged my shoulders. At maybe about 2am, he announced that he was going to bed. After all, he knew he had to work. I joined him, but was unable to sleep.
By 4-ish, I fell apart. I was tired of being in pain and John was asleep, which made me feel worse. I started sobbing, which woke him up (not my intention, really) and he pretty much snapped me out of it and got me to focus. I started breathing through them better, with John’s help. At about 5-ish I got hungry, so I had some yogurt. I don’t know what it was, but after that, the contractions kept making me nauseous and I threw up a few times (5, actually).
I called Kim(our midwife) at about 6, and she talked to me for a bit on the phone, asked some questions about the contractions and what was going on to assess the situation, then sent me to go sit in a tub of warm water with an ice-cold wash cloth on my neck to detract the nausea and to keep sipping on ice water to prevent dehydration. The warm water really did feel amazing. She went to get herself ready and said she would call back in about 20 minutes. When she called back, the contractions had spaced out a bit and then jumped closer together. She said she was going to finish packing and head over. When I hung up with her, I called my mom to ask her to come over too. Jay had been up since about 5:30 or so himself and couldn’t co back to sleep.
Mom came a few minutes later and I could tell she wasn’t really sure what to do. She just started to sweep up the house, which was helpful. Kevin woke up about 7:30 and was somewhat confused by me sitting in his tub. The look on his face was pretty funny! John had to step out and put signs up in both offices, because Paul was on his way to the ER because of shortness of breath. I thought he might be gone 30-45 minutes, but he ended up being gone about an hour. Apparently, there was a freeze overnight and everyone had to chisel out their cars for me today. Of all days!
Kim came while John was gone- at a bit after 9. She checked the baby’s heartbeat immediately to make sure he was doing well, which he was and then we went to my room for her to check the baby’s position and my cervix- the moment of truth! First she checked his heartbeat during a contraction to make sure he was doing well with those. Checking my cervix would let her know whether this was “real labor” or not. She checked me and found that I was only 2 cm- a 1- cm change from my visit last week! I was 70% effaced also, which was a 30% change from last week. I still hadn’t seen my mucous plug, no bloody show. She told me not to get discouraged, that Brendan would be here soon, but it would likely be the following week sometime. She said I was in prodromal labor, which is a prolonged early stage of labor. She then suggested I take Calcium and Magnesium to help the “practice contractions” stop, and assured me that when “real” labor started, nothing would stop it. Benadryl and/or a glass of wine was to help me rest. Kim said these contractions would only tire me and drain my energy for whenever labor really started, so doing what I could to rest was important at this point. She attributed my vomiting to possibly coming down with a stomach bug that was going around. She said if I was getting sick, it would also contribute to unproductive contractions. She stayed for about another 2 hours to see if anything changed, and then left. I was disheartened and somewhat embarrassed to have bothered so many people. I wondered if it was going to be like, “the boy who cried wolf,” and maybe when it was truly time no one would believe it. It was so frustrating that my body drags this stage out for so long.
I took the Calcium and Magnesium, Benadryl, and glass of wine. I was able to rest about 3 hours or so, but I woke up to still feel contractions- now they had become irregular. I told myself I would try not to complain out loud too much and would just go about my day, doing my best to ignore the contractions- or at least not focus on them. I continued the Calcium and Magnesium around the clock to no avail- the contractions eventually began to get closer together again. I refused to time them, sure that I was not in true labor since the quality of the pain was the same. John was sure he would somehow know for sure when I was in labor. Kim said I would definitely know. I would see bloody show or a mucus plug. John came home from work and layed down for a few hours, since he had been up all night with me. When he woke up, he played Xbox for a while. At around 10 pm, I told John to go lay down whenever he got tired because the pain wasn’t going away and I wouldn’t be able to sleep anyway.
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| My "support board" |
Some time in the very, very early morning (maybe 2 or 3 am?), the pain became stronger. The quality of the pain was the same, though. I balled up my fists and pressed them into my lower flanks with each contraction, which seemed to decrease the intensity to a tolerable level. I focused on my board during each contraction, and it helped to keep my inner dialogue positive. At one point I had to trade out my chair for my exercise ball, because the chair became uncomfortable. I was very frustrated that my prodromal labor didn’t at least give me a break so sleep, but focused my attention on my projects. I started having diarrhea, which added to the frustration. By about 4:30, the pain of the contractions had intensified to the point where it was difficult to bring my hand to my back quickly enough to change the pain at all. I had begun to have difficulty with keeping quiet. I was also beginning to think irrationally, which I attributed to exhaustion. I started to wonder if anything I had in my medicine box, maybe left over from something, could help with this pain.
I decided I should not be alone, cleaned up my mess, and went to my room to whine to John, who kept telling me it would be ok, and that I would be fine. I tried to lay down, but after about 10 minutes couldn’t stand to lay. I got on my hand and knees on the bed and cried. I kept telling John that I felt like I was dying. I said that I made a big mistake in trying to do this at home, because I couldn’t even deal with the fake labor. On one of my trips to the bathroom, I noted watery blood on my liner. At about 6 am, John told me to call Kim. She stayed on the phone with me through a few contractions and talked to me in between. She said since I had been vomiting and now also had diarrhea, I was probably sick and needed to try to rest. I asked what I was supposed to about my pain. Kim tells me to take the vitamin supplements and Benadryl, and I let her know I never stopped taking them. She then suggested that I lean over my exercise ball and rocking back and forth, take a warm bath or shower to help with the pain. I did all that except for the shower/bath. I was scared to get in the tub with no one awake and then have a problem and be alone, and I couldn’t move around enough to get undressed and in the shower.
The pain was intense as hell. After hearing that I was sick and not in labor, it became even more difficult to deal with the pain. I went to the living room to rock on the ball as long as I could, until I couldn’t even control my breathing alone and had begun to scream loudly- then I went to my room again to cry to John (I didn’t want to scare my kids). I got into my room and was going to rock on my hands and knees on my bed, but I couldn’t climb into it. With the next contraction I fell to the floor (like a controlled fall, not like a trip and fall. I guess I lowered myself?) because that one took all my strength away, and I had my first involuntary push– I thought I peed because I pushed so hard and felt fluid. I felt like I had to pee and poop at the same time, so I hurried to my bathroom before the next contraction came. With the next one, I had another huge involuntary push, which scared me because it was like someone was remote-controlling my body. With that push, I felt a huge pressure and a burn out of the WRONG side from what I was expecting! I reached down and felt a warm, slimy and hairy little head and I yelled, “Babe!!!!! The baby is coming NOW!!!!” John yelled, “what?!” and jumped out of bed. “My hand is on his head!” I yelled back. I was tried my best not to push anymore by panting. He didn’t know where any of our birth supplies were (men are so freaking stubborn. I tried to show him before!) and was in a controlled panic. I yelled for him to call the midwife, and he put her on speaker. She started yelling to get me off the toilet, but- dude! His head was in my hand. I wasn’t trying to walk to my bed.
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| Me, minutes after delivering |
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| My new nursling! |
Many thoughts of all that could go wrong at that instant flooded my mind, and I tried to dismiss them and instead go through the motions in my mind of what to do when a baby is born. She gave him directions, and with another contraction and involuntary push, out came Brendan into John’s hands at 7:11 am. He had to pull the membranes from around him, but he was pink and cried almost instantly. It was instant physical and emotional relief! John was still in a controlled panic, wanting to make really sure that the baby was ok. He was perfect. We wrapped him in a towel and I just stared into his little grey eyes. I was in love. Breathing was smooth and effortless, he was even in color and had great muscle tone. I held him close to me to keep him warm while John prepared the bed for us- the waterproof sheet, cheap regular sheet, and a layer of chux pads as well as the plastic bowl for my placenta. He came into the bathroom to help me to the bed. He took Brendan so I could stand, but the umbilical cord was stretch too far to be able to walk that way, so I held him and John held me on the walk to the bed. It was so wierd to have something that felt like a cable hanging from me! We eased into the bed and I began to nurse him. He had an unbelievably strong suck! Shortly after, my placenta detached and John dumped it into the bowl using a chux pad. The midwife instructed him to massage my uterus down, which hurt, but I was only focused on my warm little bundle in my arms. Once we were settled and covered, John went to get Jay and Kevin.
He told them to get up and wash their hands because he had a surprise for them. They followed him to our room, and Jay notices the baby and looks around the room with a surprised expression. “Where’s Kim?” he asks, his expression changing to confusion. John tells them that she’s on her way, and we recount the story to them. They both wanted to hold him right away, but we had them wait until the midwife got there. John didn’t want to cut the cord alone under those circumstances, so Brendan was still attached. Watching those 2 pieces of my heart fall in love with the newest piece of my heart was breath-taking and unforgettable. They admired every facet of his body and were curious about the placenta and umbilical cord, which by then had stopped pulsating. I had John call my mom too, and she hurried over in shock.
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| Kevin- now a big brother |
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| Jay- big brother again! |
The midwife arrived a bit after 9 am and came straight to check me and Brendan. Kim listened to Brendan and then guided John to cut the cord. She inspected the cord and placenta, then got me up to the shower. After I was back to bed, she weighed and measured the baby. He was 8 lbs, 6 oz and 21 1/2 inches long. While I spent more time admiring Brendan, Kevin and Jay came in, more than ready to finally hold their brother. The five of us were in the bed, gushing over our eventful morning. Words can’t even describe the utter elation I felt then, surrounded by the people I love most without any separations or intrusions. The midwife reminded us that I needed a high-protein meal, so John made us all pancakes, eggs, and bacon. John and I ate our breakfast in bed. We had my ziti later on for dinner. Kim cleaned up the birth mess and my mom straightened the house and cleaned the kitchen. It all felt so normal. Like another day, but we just added a person!
A bit after breakfast, I layed down while John stayed with the baby. The rest of the day was much like other days, but the joy, love and appreciation for everyone that helped and supported me through the birth and pregnancy flowed through me like never before. I can honestly say that I have never been more happy than I was that day. I only wish my previous births could have been more like that. I would not mind re-living that experience– knowing I was in labor, of course!
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Kevin’s birth- January 22nd, 2004
For Christmas 2003, we went down to Miami, as we had just moved up to Sebring and both had our families still living there. I believe we went to my mom’s house for Noche Buena (the 24th), but the specifics of that holiday season are unclear to me. We spent the night at Annie’s house (John’s great-aunt), ready to have Christmas morning together with his family. Chris, John’s brother, was to come back with us when we left to come back home.
Some time in the middle of the night, I started to feel a horrible, squeezing pain that took all of my breath and strength away. I couldn’t think. I could barely groan, though I definitely did that. I tried to make myself change positions and get more comfortable, but all my efforts were futile. With well over a month left until my due date, I wondered if this could really be labor. Eventually, I woke John up with my moaning and groaning. After some deliberation that I do not remember, set out for home with Chris. Jay was only 2 1/2 at the time, but fortunately he was always well-behaved on long car rides. On the long ride home we stopped several times: for me to use the bathroom, because of the pain, and also for me to throw up. The trip felt endless.
Once we finally got home, I tried lying down to see if that would help. After some time without relief, I finally called my doctor, but someone I had never met was on call. This doctor suggested I remain on bed rest until I could get in to be seen by own doctor or things got better. To me, that meant there was no relief in sight. Several weeks passed without relief. Chris went back some during that time, and I don’t even know how long he was with us. I went to the hospital a few times, and although the monitor did truly register contractions, they were irregular, though strong and not causing my cervix to show much change. This means that I kept being sent home without any pain relief of any kind- pharmacologic or not- though the one time I did spend the night they did give me some Stadol and forgot about me for the night. I unsuccessfully begged to be induced or something- anything that would help with the pain.
For the remainder of my pregnancy, I did my best to get through the day. Jay watched “Finding Nemo,” which he had received for Christmas, over and over while I laid on the couch wondering how much longer I would have to endure this pain. Eventually, the pain combined with the world’s apparent apathy about my pain made me angry and I tried walking for hours, since I’d heard that it sometimes helped bring about labor. I even bought castor oil, but I was too afraid to actually try it. Nothing I did helped at all. I spent 2-3 weeks dilated to 3cm.
One night, we ordered Chinese food for dinner and my fortune read, “it is almost time.” I set it aside, thinking, “yeah, ok whatever!” I went to the bathroom and noticed a huge glob of blood-tinged mucus in the toilet. I wondered if that was the elusive “mucus plug” I’d read about, but shrugged it off and mentioned it to John. Because I’d mentioned the word “blood,” he grew worried and suggested we go to the hospital. I was so tired of my many pointless trips to the hospital, in which no one seemed to care at all about how horrible I felt; I was a burden, if anything at all. Since my last visit, when I’d spent the night alone, I had decided not to go back unless my water broke or I was really bleeding and told him so. He was very concerned and had me speak to both of our mothers in an effort to try to convince me to go get checked out.
After a long shower and packing Jay an overnight bag, we dropped Jay off at Teri’s house (his cousin) and headed to the hospital for what felt like the millionth time. At my last OB visit, my doctor had “stripped my membranes,” which was very painful, but was supposed to help me go into real labor. My contractions had continued to be just as painful as they’d been, so I figured this procedure did not work for me. Either way, I was scheduled for an induction the following Monday, when I’d be 39 weeks by their calculations.
Our arrival to the hospital was not unlike most of my other visits there. I was in an actual room, instead of the triage room, for the 2nd time. An older nurse came in and set me up on the monitor, then took my vitals & information. Her name was June, which I remember because that was John’s late grandmother’s name. Awhile later, I overheard her end of the conversation with my doctor. I don’t remember exact words, but I remember hearing the gist of it. Basically, they would keep me overnight for observation, but that I had been there frequently and I was most likely still not in real labor. I wanted to run out of the room instantly. I looked over at John, who was asleep and couldn’t validate what I’d just heard. I was so tired of unfruitful nights spent on an uncomfortable bed and feeling like the staff didn’t even know I was there, except for when they were burdened with having to document on me. I felt that if I had to stay miserable and in pain, I’d prefer to stay miserable and in pain in my own bed. When my nurse came in, I cried to her that if they didn’t feel that I was in labor, to please just send me home. The nurse was very patient with me, and told me she would do what she could for me. She said she’d been a nurse for many years and had long ago learned that doctors don’t know everything.
Since Jay’s birth, I’d started listing Demerol as a medication I am allergic to, so I made sure I didn’t get that again. I believe I did get Stadol in my IV, though “to help me relax.” Much of the details of my labor with Kevin are among a muddled blur of tangled, upset emotions. At that point, I think I thoughtlessly would have agreed to anything someone suggested might help me. I was exhausted, in pain, and incredibly discouraged.
My nurse came in at one point to check my cervix and in a hushed voice told me she could strip my membranes for me, though she wasn’t really supposed to. She said if it was up to her, she’d break my water, but she needed a doctor’s order for that. These things were supposed to help my labor progress. Again, my pain was unchanged- no better or worse, just as unbearably horrible as it had been. I have no idea if at some point my labor had been augmented with Pitocin or not. I fell asleep somewhere along the way and at some point, my nurse woke me and told me that if I wanted an epidural, I couldn’t wait much longer, since it was late and they had to page someone to come in. I accepted the epidural and went back to sleep. Later on, anesthesia came by to put it in. On top of all my exhausted discomfort, I also developed itching all over my body- a side effect of the epidural I didn’t know about. Some time later on, my nurse must have put a catheter in, but I don’t remember that. I only remember noticing something was pulling when I tried to turn in bed. She was next to me, charting and told me to be careful with my catheter. John was asleep for almost the entire time, so I know he doesn’t remember me having it put in either. Kevin was finally born around shift change, so the quiet, patient nurse who looked over me all night had gone home and I had a new nurse that I had not seen before. I don’t remember pushing, except that I didn’t do very much of it.
Kevin came out and they placed him on a chux on my belly and asked John if he wanted to cut the umbilical cord. We looked down and saw a purple, almost limp baby lying there quietly. John turned pale and declined the offer. The nurses took Kevin over to the warmer to begin their assessments and began bagging him. From my angle I couldn’t tell if there were chest compressions also, or just the air. I asked repeatedly if he was OK and kept being told he was fine. Some time lapsed and they took him away to the nursery without any explanation other than that they were going to watch him. After a month of suffering unrelenting pain, the physical pain stopped and was replaced by gut-wrenching terror that something happened to my baby. No one would give me a straight answer and once again, I was a prisoner in my bed because of the epidural. I was also still plagued by the total-body itch that overcame me in labor.
When I was finally able to get up and use the bathroom, my entire body felt like I’d been hit by a truck- a feeling I didn’t experience with Jay. There was no part of my body that wasn’t aching. Hours, maybe even a day went by before I could see Kevin. All was a blur of exhausted worry. I had to go to the nursery to see him, and when I did, he had an IV in his little arm. No information was given to me about why he’d had an IV put in or what was wrong. I sat in the hard rocker in the nursery and tried to nurse him, but he wouldn’t wake up. As bad as things were with Jay, he latched on perfectly from the first time, and things fell into place from there. Kevin had been given formula against my consent and against my birth plan, just as Jay had. I had to work hard to wake him up to nurse, and then I had to work to keep him awake during the feeding.
Jay came to see us the next day, and I could tell he was too young to understand what was happening. He had a look on his face like I had betrayed him; leaving him overnight and going to another kid. I was crushed. He didn’t want much to do with me in the hospital.
I left the hospital filled with nothing but questions, but was focused on getting our nursing relationship going well. Time passed and I made myself stop thinking of Kevin’s rough beginning, but I think the fear and worry never truly left me.
Between both the birth experiences and the lack of support in my life with pregnancy, birth, breastfeeding and parenting in general, I vowed never to put myself through that “torture” again. 2 kids was more than enough and all I would ever need or be able to handle starting over with this way again.
Jay’s Birth- June 11th, 2001
My last OB appointment was on a Thursday. John came with me to this one, after not having been to the majority of appointments, because of his job in a perfume pyramid scam. The nurses checked my vitals and weighed me, as they had done at every visit. When the doctor came in to see me, he looked at the chart and began yelling at the nurses, telling them that it was impossible for someone to gain 15 pounds in a week. He yelled that they needed to pay attention and asked how hard it could be to get a proper reading. He weighed me himself, and then asked me to get off, moved the scale mumbling something and then asked me to get on again. He must’ve been satisfied withteh reading, because I was shown back to my exam room. After a few moments, he came in and did the usual assessments: measured my uterine fundus, palpated the baby, and did a vaginal exam. I was dilated to 2 centimiters, the same as the previous week. I was 38 weeks at this point. “So, are you ready to have this baby?” he asked with smile. “Really?” I replied excitedly. “Sure!” I was 18 years old, excited about having my baby, and tired of being pregnant. I had been living in my mom’s house in Hialeah, and my parents hardly ran the a/c. I was swollen and DONE being pregnant. I had been sick and depressed the entire duration of the pregnancy. By this point I had isolated myself from most of my friends, even though I had just graduated highschool. I wanted it OVER, and he was telling me it could finally end. “How’s Monday sound?” he asked us. I look at John, who was already starting to say yes. The next day, he quit the pyramid scam. Weeks before I had turned in and gone over my birth plan, which included no bottles or pacifiers for the baby, the use of music to soothe me, and not being separated from him after birth. I also was scared of the epidural, but was open to something else for pain. A copy was given to the hospital when I went to pre-register. Everything was in place. I was thrilled. My life was finally looking up.
Some time in the middle of the night, I started to feel a horrible, squeezing pain that took all of my breath and strength away. I couldn’t think. I could barely groan, though I definitely did that. I tried to make myself change positions and get more comfortable, but all my efforts were futile. With well over a month left until my due date, I wondered if this could really be labor. Eventually, I woke John up with my moaning and groaning. After some deliberation that I do not remember, set out for home with Chris. Jay was only 2 1/2 at the time, but fortunately he was always well-behaved on long car rides. On the long ride home we stopped several times: for me to use the bathroom, because of the pain, and also for me to throw up. The trip felt endless.
Once we finally got home, I tried lying down to see if that would help. After some time without relief, I finally called my doctor, but someone I had never met was on call. This doctor suggested I remain on bed rest until I could get in to be seen by own doctor or things got better. To me, that meant there was no relief in sight. Several weeks passed without relief. Chris went back some during that time, and I don’t even know how long he was with us. I went to the hospital a few times, and although the monitor did truly register contractions, they were irregular, though strong and not causing my cervix to show much change. This means that I kept being sent home without any pain relief of any kind- pharmacologic or not- though the one time I did spend the night they did give me some Stadol and forgot about me for the night. I unsuccessfully begged to be induced or something- anything that would help with the pain.
For the remainder of my pregnancy, I did my best to get through the day. Jay watched “Finding Nemo,” which he had received for Christmas, over and over while I laid on the couch wondering how much longer I would have to endure this pain. Eventually, the pain combined with the world’s apparent apathy about my pain made me angry and I tried walking for hours, since I’d heard that it sometimes helped bring about labor. I even bought castor oil, but I was too afraid to actually try it. Nothing I did helped at all. I spent 2-3 weeks dilated to 3cm.
One night, we ordered Chinese food for dinner and my fortune read, “it is almost time.” I set it aside, thinking, “yeah, ok whatever!” I went to the bathroom and noticed a huge glob of blood-tinged mucus in the toilet. I wondered if that was the elusive “mucus plug” I’d read about, but shrugged it off and mentioned it to John. Because I’d mentioned the word “blood,” he grew worried and suggested we go to the hospital. I was so tired of my many pointless trips to the hospital, in which no one seemed to care at all about how horrible I felt; I was a burden, if anything at all. Since my last visit, when I’d spent the night alone, I had decided not to go back unless my water broke or I was really bleeding and told him so. He was very concerned and had me speak to both of our mothers in an effort to try to convince me to go get checked out.
After a long shower and packing Jay an overnight bag, we dropped Jay off at Teri’s house (his cousin) and headed to the hospital for what felt like the millionth time. At my last OB visit, my doctor had “stripped my membranes,” which was very painful, but was supposed to help me go into real labor. My contractions had continued to be just as painful as they’d been, so I figured this procedure did not work for me. Either way, I was scheduled for an induction the following Monday, when I’d be 39 weeks by their calculations.
Our arrival to the hospital was not unlike most of my other visits there. I was in an actual room, instead of the triage room, for the 2nd time. An older nurse came in and set me up on the monitor, then took my vitals & information. Her name was June, which I remember because that was John’s late grandmother’s name. Awhile later, I overheard her end of the conversation with my doctor. I don’t remember exact words, but I remember hearing the gist of it. Basically, they would keep me overnight for observation, but that I had been there frequently and I was most likely still not in real labor. I wanted to run out of the room instantly. I looked over at John, who was asleep and couldn’t validate what I’d just heard. I was so tired of unfruitful nights spent on an uncomfortable bed and feeling like the staff didn’t even know I was there, except for when they were burdened with having to document on me. I felt that if I had to stay miserable and in pain, I’d prefer to stay miserable and in pain in my own bed. When my nurse came in, I cried to her that if they didn’t feel that I was in labor, to please just send me home. The nurse was very patient with me, and told me she would do what she could for me. She said she’d been a nurse for many years and had long ago learned that doctors don’t know everything.
Since Jay’s birth, I’d started listing Demerol as a medication I am allergic to, so I made sure I didn’t get that again. I believe I did get Stadol in my IV, though “to help me relax.” Much of the details of my labor with Kevin are among a muddled blur of tangled, upset emotions. At that point, I think I thoughtlessly would have agreed to anything someone suggested might help me. I was exhausted, in pain, and incredibly discouraged.
My nurse came in at one point to check my cervix and in a hushed voice told me she could strip my membranes for me, though she wasn’t really supposed to. She said if it was up to her, she’d break my water, but she needed a doctor’s order for that. These things were supposed to help my labor progress. Again, my pain was unchanged- no better or worse, just as unbearably horrible as it had been. I have no idea if at some point my labor had been augmented with Pitocin or not. I fell asleep somewhere along the way and at some point, my nurse woke me and told me that if I wanted an epidural, I couldn’t wait much longer, since it was late and they had to page someone to come in. I accepted the epidural and went back to sleep. Later on, anesthesia came by to put it in. On top of all my exhausted discomfort, I also developed itching all over my body- a side effect of the epidural I didn’t know about. Some time later on, my nurse must have put a catheter in, but I don’t remember that. I only remember noticing something was pulling when I tried to turn in bed. She was next to me, charting and told me to be careful with my catheter. John was asleep for almost the entire time, so I know he doesn’t remember me having it put in either. Kevin was finally born around shift change, so the quiet, patient nurse who looked over me all night had gone home and I had a new nurse that I had not seen before. I don’t remember pushing, except that I didn’t do very much of it.
Kevin came out and they placed him on a chux on my belly and asked John if he wanted to cut the umbilical cord. We looked down and saw a purple, almost limp baby lying there quietly. John turned pale and declined the offer. The nurses took Kevin over to the warmer to begin their assessments and began bagging him. From my angle I couldn’t tell if there were chest compressions also, or just the air. I asked repeatedly if he was OK and kept being told he was fine. Some time lapsed and they took him away to the nursery without any explanation other than that they were going to watch him. After a month of suffering unrelenting pain, the physical pain stopped and was replaced by gut-wrenching terror that something happened to my baby. No one would give me a straight answer and once again, I was a prisoner in my bed because of the epidural. I was also still plagued by the total-body itch that overcame me in labor.
When I was finally able to get up and use the bathroom, my entire body felt like I’d been hit by a truck- a feeling I didn’t experience with Jay. There was no part of my body that wasn’t aching. Hours, maybe even a day went by before I could see Kevin. All was a blur of exhausted worry. I had to go to the nursery to see him, and when I did, he had an IV in his little arm. No information was given to me about why he’d had an IV put in or what was wrong. I sat in the hard rocker in the nursery and tried to nurse him, but he wouldn’t wake up. As bad as things were with Jay, he latched on perfectly from the first time, and things fell into place from there. Kevin had been given formula against my consent and against my birth plan, just as Jay had. I had to work hard to wake him up to nurse, and then I had to work to keep him awake during the feeding.
Jay came to see us the next day, and I could tell he was too young to understand what was happening. He had a look on his face like I had betrayed him; leaving him overnight and going to another kid. I was crushed. He didn’t want much to do with me in the hospital.
I left the hospital filled with nothing but questions, but was focused on getting our nursing relationship going well. Time passed and I made myself stop thinking of Kevin’s rough beginning, but I think the fear and worry never truly left me.
Between both the birth experiences and the lack of support in my life with pregnancy, birth, breastfeeding and parenting in general, I vowed never to put myself through that “torture” again. 2 kids was more than enough and all I would ever need or be able to handle starting over with this way again.
_______________________________________
Jay’s Birth- June 11th, 2001
My last OB appointment was on a Thursday. John came with me to this one, after not having been to the majority of appointments, because of his job in a perfume pyramid scam. The nurses checked my vitals and weighed me, as they had done at every visit. When the doctor came in to see me, he looked at the chart and began yelling at the nurses, telling them that it was impossible for someone to gain 15 pounds in a week. He yelled that they needed to pay attention and asked how hard it could be to get a proper reading. He weighed me himself, and then asked me to get off, moved the scale mumbling something and then asked me to get on again. He must’ve been satisfied withteh reading, because I was shown back to my exam room. After a few moments, he came in and did the usual assessments: measured my uterine fundus, palpated the baby, and did a vaginal exam. I was dilated to 2 centimiters, the same as the previous week. I was 38 weeks at this point. “So, are you ready to have this baby?” he asked with smile. “Really?” I replied excitedly. “Sure!” I was 18 years old, excited about having my baby, and tired of being pregnant. I had been living in my mom’s house in Hialeah, and my parents hardly ran the a/c. I was swollen and DONE being pregnant. I had been sick and depressed the entire duration of the pregnancy. By this point I had isolated myself from most of my friends, even though I had just graduated highschool. I wanted it OVER, and he was telling me it could finally end. “How’s Monday sound?” he asked us. I look at John, who was already starting to say yes. The next day, he quit the pyramid scam. Weeks before I had turned in and gone over my birth plan, which included no bottles or pacifiers for the baby, the use of music to soothe me, and not being separated from him after birth. I also was scared of the epidural, but was open to something else for pain. A copy was given to the hospital when I went to pre-register. Everything was in place. I was thrilled. My life was finally looking up.
We were to be at Palmetto General Hospital at 6AM for my induction. I was so excited and nervous, I could hardly sleep the night before. I got there with John and my mom right on time. Between the admission assessments and whatever else they had going on, my Pitocin wasn’t started until about 9AM. I had been to the hospital a few times throughout the pregancy. In the beginning, for dehydration from the vomiting for which I believe I spent 2 days admitted. Then, later on for dehydration that had started contractions in me a couple of times. I had a hard time believing that not drinking enough water could be a cause for making someone contract like that. All I knew is that I was told to go straight to the hospital if I had cramping that wouldn’t go away, and I did.
I went from hanging out, joking and talking to whining and groaning in pain in no time. These contractions felt nothing like those from when I was dehydrated. This was far worse. I felt like I couldn’t even catch my breath. We’d never gone to any childbirth classes because John was always busy and gone with his work. The nurse came to do her initial vaginal exam and commented on my anatomy. I was completely mortified. She said I was built to get pregnant easily and give birth quickly. She also said it was great that it was great that I shaved because it helps with preventing infections. Who says stuff like that?! She confirmed the 2 cm dilation I had come in with, and left. All day, she spoke mainly to my mother and mostly in Spanish. I speak Spanish, but I do not prefer it, especially if it’s for me.
I was terrified of this horrific pain, but also terrified of the magical epidural that so many women boast about. I have scoliosis and feared that my spinal deviation would cause them to mess up and paralyze me for life. My nurse gave me Demerol for my pain in my IV. As soon as she pushed the medication into my catheter, I became nauseous and vomited forecefully and painfully. Immediately, I also began coughing and wheezing and had to take my inhaler even though I was still nausous. I know it was still early in the day, but I had already lost track of the time. Shortly after that, I lay still in my bed. My vision had become blurred and my hearing dulled. My breathing felt slow and shallow. My whole body felt unbelievably heavy. I was able to get up and use the bathroom once that I can remember. My mom and John spoke in hushed voices, probably to not disturb my “sleep.” Every few moments I could feel my insides squeezing and tearing apart, but I couldn’t make myself speak. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t even groan.
Sometime later, I suppose I was able to start groaning, though I don’t think I was forming sentences. I think either John or my mom asked for the nurse and she came in. Shortly after the doctor came in. I was moved around into the lithotomy position for a vaginal exam from him, but I was very confused about what was going on. He seemed satisfied with the progress, although I don’t remember what that progress may have been and asked the nurse to pass him an amnihook. I had never heard the term, but being somewhat familiar with medical prefixes, suffixes and roots I tried to put it together in my head. “Amni- as in amniotic-” I managed to get out and then I felt a hot gush of fluid rush out of me. I think I screamed or whimpered in fear. Someone ordered me to relax and breathe, as I had begun to hyperventilate. Someone shoved an oxygen mask in my face and then I head the doctor give the nurse an order for more Demerol for me. Before I could say that I never want that again, she was pushing more into my IV and again I vomited so forcefully that the tiny emesis basin couldn’t catch it all. Again, I had an asthma attack and needed my inhaler. I wondered if everyone had to go through this when they had children if they tried to avoid the magic epidural. I imagined they must, because no one ever mentioned anything better. I figured that if this was the alternative, the epidural must be worth the risk. Again, I couldn’t speak or move. I was a prisoner within my own body.
At some point my mom and John stepped out of the room, probably to get something to eat. I layed there- alone, in pain and trapped. I eventually drifted off to sleep. A familiar voice woke me, and when opened my eyes, I saw a girl I was friends with at the time. She joked about the securtiy, saying that all she had to do was ask for me and they told her where to go. I felt completely betrayed by the people who I trusted to care for me. How could they just send someone into my room without asking me? I didn’t want to have to entertain while I was in this condition! I was completely naked under that gown! I had fluids gushing out of me and couldn’t even control my bladder anymore! I looked around and didn’t see my mom or John. I don’t know what she said or whether I replied. I remember she had some sort of electronic game she was trying to show me. My mom and John eventually came back in and they spoke some small talk with the girl. I wanted John to understand that I wanted her to go, but he didn’t. I thought that all this must be my punishment for getting pregnant so young.
When I was finally able to communicate, I asked to recieve the magic epidural. Some time later, anesthesia came by. I was to sit on the side of the bed and curl over, arching my back while holding a pillow. My pains were so strong and frequent that it seemed like an impossible task. I was still very groggy and I knew there were several people in the room with me, but I couldn’t focus. While someone stood in front of me and held me in the desired “curled down” position, someone else also pushed me down behind. I felt a cold, rough substance scrub my lower- to mid- back and then something sharp penetrate my skin followed by the order, “don’t move!” I prayed they wouldn’t mess up and paralyze me for life. Suddenly, I felt strange, sharp sensations up my spine. The combination of sensations nauseated me and took my breath away. Again, someone shoved an oxygen mask in my face and told me to breathe slowly. I felt something like tape on my back and the was layed down and told to lay on my left side. I was exhausted, but eventually, the pain disappeared and I drifted off to sleep again.
I went from hanging out, joking and talking to whining and groaning in pain in no time. These contractions felt nothing like those from when I was dehydrated. This was far worse. I felt like I couldn’t even catch my breath. We’d never gone to any childbirth classes because John was always busy and gone with his work. The nurse came to do her initial vaginal exam and commented on my anatomy. I was completely mortified. She said I was built to get pregnant easily and give birth quickly. She also said it was great that it was great that I shaved because it helps with preventing infections. Who says stuff like that?! She confirmed the 2 cm dilation I had come in with, and left. All day, she spoke mainly to my mother and mostly in Spanish. I speak Spanish, but I do not prefer it, especially if it’s for me.
I was terrified of this horrific pain, but also terrified of the magical epidural that so many women boast about. I have scoliosis and feared that my spinal deviation would cause them to mess up and paralyze me for life. My nurse gave me Demerol for my pain in my IV. As soon as she pushed the medication into my catheter, I became nauseous and vomited forecefully and painfully. Immediately, I also began coughing and wheezing and had to take my inhaler even though I was still nausous. I know it was still early in the day, but I had already lost track of the time. Shortly after that, I lay still in my bed. My vision had become blurred and my hearing dulled. My breathing felt slow and shallow. My whole body felt unbelievably heavy. I was able to get up and use the bathroom once that I can remember. My mom and John spoke in hushed voices, probably to not disturb my “sleep.” Every few moments I could feel my insides squeezing and tearing apart, but I couldn’t make myself speak. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t even groan.
Sometime later, I suppose I was able to start groaning, though I don’t think I was forming sentences. I think either John or my mom asked for the nurse and she came in. Shortly after the doctor came in. I was moved around into the lithotomy position for a vaginal exam from him, but I was very confused about what was going on. He seemed satisfied with the progress, although I don’t remember what that progress may have been and asked the nurse to pass him an amnihook. I had never heard the term, but being somewhat familiar with medical prefixes, suffixes and roots I tried to put it together in my head. “Amni- as in amniotic-” I managed to get out and then I felt a hot gush of fluid rush out of me. I think I screamed or whimpered in fear. Someone ordered me to relax and breathe, as I had begun to hyperventilate. Someone shoved an oxygen mask in my face and then I head the doctor give the nurse an order for more Demerol for me. Before I could say that I never want that again, she was pushing more into my IV and again I vomited so forcefully that the tiny emesis basin couldn’t catch it all. Again, I had an asthma attack and needed my inhaler. I wondered if everyone had to go through this when they had children if they tried to avoid the magic epidural. I imagined they must, because no one ever mentioned anything better. I figured that if this was the alternative, the epidural must be worth the risk. Again, I couldn’t speak or move. I was a prisoner within my own body.
At some point my mom and John stepped out of the room, probably to get something to eat. I layed there- alone, in pain and trapped. I eventually drifted off to sleep. A familiar voice woke me, and when opened my eyes, I saw a girl I was friends with at the time. She joked about the securtiy, saying that all she had to do was ask for me and they told her where to go. I felt completely betrayed by the people who I trusted to care for me. How could they just send someone into my room without asking me? I didn’t want to have to entertain while I was in this condition! I was completely naked under that gown! I had fluids gushing out of me and couldn’t even control my bladder anymore! I looked around and didn’t see my mom or John. I don’t know what she said or whether I replied. I remember she had some sort of electronic game she was trying to show me. My mom and John eventually came back in and they spoke some small talk with the girl. I wanted John to understand that I wanted her to go, but he didn’t. I thought that all this must be my punishment for getting pregnant so young.
When I was finally able to communicate, I asked to recieve the magic epidural. Some time later, anesthesia came by. I was to sit on the side of the bed and curl over, arching my back while holding a pillow. My pains were so strong and frequent that it seemed like an impossible task. I was still very groggy and I knew there were several people in the room with me, but I couldn’t focus. While someone stood in front of me and held me in the desired “curled down” position, someone else also pushed me down behind. I felt a cold, rough substance scrub my lower- to mid- back and then something sharp penetrate my skin followed by the order, “don’t move!” I prayed they wouldn’t mess up and paralyze me for life. Suddenly, I felt strange, sharp sensations up my spine. The combination of sensations nauseated me and took my breath away. Again, someone shoved an oxygen mask in my face and told me to breathe slowly. I felt something like tape on my back and the was layed down and told to lay on my left side. I was exhausted, but eventually, the pain disappeared and I drifted off to sleep again.
I eventually started to wake up, moaning in pain again. Someone called for my nurse again, who came in and did another vaginal exam, then walked out. After a few moments the doctor walked in, checked me (I was still laying back with my legs up), and walked out, yelling at the nurse not to call him until the baby was crowning. I was tired and disappointed. I though the magic epidural meant I wouldn’t be in pain again. When would this be over? Only moments later, my nurse was in the room and I was so uncomfortable that she felt like she should check me again. My mom said, “oh my God” and John turned white. “Ni estornudes!” my nurse said, meaning “don’t even sneeze!” she said the baby was right there and ran out the room askign for the doctor to be called back in. My mom held her hand over his head and John rubbed my leg with a look on his face that I couldn’t decipher. From what I was told, the doctor hadn’t even had the chance to make it back to his office in a connecting medical plaza. He came in, put on gloves and didn’t even have time to finish puttting his gear on. The bed was transformed quickly and my nurse instructed my mom and John to each hold a leg. I felt like I was being torn in two! She pushed on the back of my neck and yelled for me to push. I felt nothing and had no idea what to do. I guess whatever I did was wrong, and she yelled at me that I needed to push better than that if I wanted my baby to come out alive. I was terrified and everyone was speaking at the same time. I was still groggy from the Demerol. I cried and wanted everyone to shut up, go away and leave me alone. I hated my nurse. I dreamt of writing in a complaint about her. Jay slipped out with minimal effort from me. I caught a quick glimpse of his perfect, pink body and got to touch him briefly. I remember being surprised that he was so slimy and then they took him to the warmer for all the things they do at birth. The rest was a huge blur of activity. I wanted my baby back but they took him off somewhere, I suppose the nursery.
I slept again, and later I was helped to the bathroom. I felt clumsy and awkward with everything that was shoved between my legs and my IV pole. Later, I was moved to another room. I slept some more. Jay was born at about 3:15PM, but I didn’t see him again until it was dark. I can’t clearly remember the time between his birth and when I finally got him. I remember I aksed for him several times, and the answer was always that I would see him soon. John saw him and my mom saw him. My dad and my sister saw him too. When my in-laws came by they also went to see him, but I was trapped in bed, still not allowed to get out of bed alone.
After I finally got him, I couldn’t stop staring at him. He had a cute, perfect little button nose and the most kissable cheeks ever. He latched on quickly and perfectly from the beginning. I was overcome with a strange tingly sensation all over and my body went limp. I later learned this is due to a surge of the hormones oxytocin and prolactin. That night, they had problems with the infant alarm system. The alarm kept going off and they kept checking to make sure everyone had their babies. Thinking of how easy it was for my friend to come in to see me, I refused to take any chances and slept with him on my chest. It was a double room and I had no roomate, so John slept in the bed next to me. I couldn’t imagine ever being separated from my perfect baby again.
