Amy's birth story OR Things That Do Not Go Your Way

Nothing ever seems to go the way we plan...

I am a planner. I like to know everything I can about, well, everything. I keep lists. Lots of 'em. I like to be prepared for any possibility. But I was not prepared for the way I gave birth.

I researched. I planned, all the while keeping the thought in the back of my head that I had to be flexible. Things are different for every woman, and situations you don't expect can arise. I like to think I maintained that flexibility. Granted, when I needed the flexibility, I didn't stubbornly fight the situation, but there was significant disappointment and frustration.

There is a school of thought that believes that every woman can give birth naturally, given enough time. I personally don't agree. If that were the case, women and infants would not have been dying in childbirth for thousands of years. I don't believe it would have been the case for me.

On the day after my due date, July 29th, George was mowing the lawn and my mom and I had just finished painting a small sample of paint on the walls in the baby's room. A friend of hers (who is, of all things, a nurse) called, and while she talked I used the restroom for the hundredth time that day. I realized very quickly that something was different. At first I thought I was still peeing...because when you're pregnant - let's face it - that's sometimes the case. But I quickly realized that it probably wasn't the case. I told my mom (still on the phone) that I thought I was leaking amniotic fluid. She mentioned it to her friend, Debbie, who asked to speak to me. I explained to her what I was experiencing, and she agreed it was likely. So, a phone call to the OB was next on the list. He agreed, and asked me to come in to verify that my water had broken.

Now, my water didn't break in one big gush. It began - and continued for the next 24 hours- to leak slowly. That was one of the most uncomfortable feelings I have ever experienced.

My mom and George got everything together that we needed, and after a call to my in-laws to have them take care of Vera, we were on our way to the hospital. Along the way, I can remember my mom and George asking me several times whether I was having any contractions. The answer was always no. We got to the hospital, and after being checked, was told that my water had broken, and that I was still 1cm, 50% effaced, and -1/-2. Later on, I realized that they really almost exaggerated a little bit, because the lack of progress became very discouraging.

I told George he should try and sleep, since it might be a long night, and my mom walked the halls with me. We walked like crazy. I had decided I wanted to try and labor naturally, and I knew movement would be best. In combination (later on), I would use some Bradley-type relaxation and breathing.

Three hours later, while the other measurments stayed the same, I had dilated to 4 cm. At that point I was optimistic! I thought that if I was actually progressing at 1 cm/hour, that it might actually be an average length labor. But that's where everything changed.

An hour later, still 4cm. Two hours after that, 4 cm. And two hours after that...4 cm. At that point it was 4:00 am (July 30th), and it had been 10 hours since my water broke. The nurse had started talking about Pitocin around 2 am, but I wanted to wait and see...I knew I wouldn't be able to move around as much, and I wanted to be able to keep moving. I really wasn't having any recognizable contraction pattern, and to be truthful was barely having contractions. So at 4:00 I went on Pitocin. According to my mom, they turned that sucker up. I definitely felt much stronger contractions, but I was still doing fine naturally, and around 7:00 am I saw my OB. Still 4 cm. He decided to let me go a while longer, and hope the Pitocin would do it's job. He also decided to put in a internal pressure catheter...which is just as much fun as it sounds, and was absolutely the worst pain I have ever experienced, I think in part because generally they try in put it in when you're not having a contraction, but it so happened that I did right in the middle. Of course.

Meanwhile, the next 5 hours or so were probably the worst part of the labor for me. I was frustrated, tired, and uncomfortable (hello internal pressure catheter). I was fortunately able to get out of bed and move into different positions...as far as the leads from the monitors would let me, which was probably about 4 or 5 feet. I did a lot of relaxation/breathing as well, and lots of sitting on the birthing ball and rocking chair. It was so frustrating having to be hooked up to the machines and so limited. I read that some women want to be still and relax in response to birth, and some women want to move around and be active...I was the latter - it was just my personal instinct.

My OB came by again around 1pm. My nurse Kerry (the best labor nurse on earth) warned me that he would probably talk about the possibility of a c-section, since I was still at 4 cm, and was neither dilating or effacing, and Amy just wasn't descending into the birth canal. He did mention it, and we discussed the possibility of waiting longer since Amy was tolerating the labor really well. That was the one part of the labor that seemed to go right...she did beautifully, and didn't give us a moment's worry. But he asked me if we wanted to wait until she wasn't tolerating it well, until she showed signs of stress, and we didn't. So, he said I could go off the Pitocin, and just relax (HA!) until it was my turn to go to the OR.

I cried, and my mom and George held my hands and reassured me, but a big part of me was really disappointed. Even though I knew I hadn't I still felt like I had failed. When I look back on it now, I did everything I had in my power to do to avoid a c-section...I moved, I never had an epidural, and I really was quite relaxed in labor. I wasn't scared or nervous. I think it just wasn't in the cards. Once the Pitocin stopped, I essentially stopped contracting. It was like my body just wasn't going to do it on it's own.

The wait for the c-section was horrific for me. I was terrified of surgery, and even more terrified of a spinal. We had to wait several hours for a couple of planned c-sections and a couple of emergency ones. I fell into neither category. To add insult to injury, my IV hadn't been placed properly to begin with, and they had to do it again. Unfortunately, I had been given so much fluid over the previous 24 hours, it was really tough to get a vein up enough to put a needle in. So there was a lot of trial and error involved, and I hate needles. I was so exhausted by then, and emoptionally worn out that everything felt like it was putting me over the edge.

One thing that reassured me was meeting the anesthesiologist. He knew I was very scared, and his demeanor was very calm and I felt much better after he explained everything to me. However, once I was in the OR waiting to have the spinal done, it was a different anesthesiologist who came to do the spinal (I think since it was just after 5pm, the original doctor's shift was over). I had met him for a brief moment at the end of my conversation with the original anes. I hadn't liked him in that brief moment then and I still didn't. He was younger, seemed impatient to just get things done, and had zero bedside manner. I was shaking, terrified, holding onto Kerry and crying. Then, he couldn't place the spinal. "Electrical" pain shot down my leg twice. Kerry reassured me that it was just nerves being hit briefly, and it would be over soon. The doc leaned over my shoulder and asked if I would be okay being asleep for the surgery. My response was "No!" I'm pretty sure, had I not had my eyes squeezed shut and my face buried in the pillow I was curled over, I would have seen Kerry glaring at him. He FINALLY placed the spinal, after about 15 minutes. It may not seem like a terribly long time, but believe me...it felt like years. Kerry told me later that the doctor said that what happened with me only happens for him maybe once a year. Of course. I don't think I could have handled that had Kerry not been standing with me, holding on to me. She got me through it.

After that, I can say that things went really well. The nurse who was monitoring my vitals drew me a picture of a beach and a margarita on the back of the screen they put up in front of me, and when he saw that I was wearing my scapular and commented on it, I felt immediately that things were going to be fine. He talked to me very calmly and softly throughout, and I felt very calm then. George was on my right, holding my hand, and my mom was watching the surgery. It was mere minutes until I heard her cry. She cried right away, and I looked over at George and he was crying, too. I could hear the nurses saying how pink she was. My mom said she came out with her arms up by her head, and to his day, I honestly feel that was what kept her from descending into the birth canal. I was so grateful that it was own OB who did the surgery. I trusted him, and I knew he would do a good job. Another thing that turned out well was that he was able to remove my ovarian cyst (it turned out to be bigger than the ultrasound had indicated...about the size of a racquetball), and I didn't have to plan on another surgery.

So, I guess that's the story. When I look back on it, the tough part was the emotional toll the whole labor took. It was so disappointing at the time, and I was so tired. But I was surprised at my own strength through the physical part of labor. I had always considered myself a bit of a weenie when it came to pain. ;) I mean it in the humblest way possible, and with a sense of awe that God created women for such an awesome purpose, and provides us with strength we are unaware of.
I'm so grateful that He brought my little family through it all safely, and I know I feel stronger for having gone through it.