I started this post in a chipper, cheeky manner, intending to gloss over the tough stuff and head straight into fun baby stuff. But as I started writing, I realized that I couldn't. First, because getting a baby means getting through the tough stuff. And second because it was a story that I needed to tell.
That doesn't mean that this is a story that you need to hear!
And I will not be upset if you stop here, please feel free to delete this email or close this window and wait for little Harrison to arrive in the story line for some fun. I promise that will be coming soon!
Here is a photo of me the night before we went in to be induced, 41 weeks exactly. Two days earlier our OB performed a non-stress test on Harrison. He determined there wasn't any immediate danger to Harrison (or me) but there wasn't enough amniotic fluid left to let him go much longer. So that morning he scheduled us for an appointment at the hospital at 7:00 am on 11/19. The night before we made sure all our things were packed and ready. Needless to say there was both excitement and apprehension, and overall not a lot of sleep that night. Although one thing that did surprise me throughout the last month was how not scared I was about labor and delivery - I was really just ready to be done.
Harrison wakes up and gets fussy. I go and get him from the Pack n' Play and put him in my lap. My words per minute typing skills drop significantly.
We arrived on time and got checked in. They set my IV (standard) and started Pitocin, which is a human synthesized oxytocin, which is responsible for causing contractions and also smooth out the rougher edges of pregnancy in your memory. They start you at a low dose and then increase every 20 minutes throughout the day. They also have you hooked up to a monitor that shows your contractions (as if you couldn't tell - more for everyone else!), and also the baby's heart rate, to make sure that he wasn't stressed. He was cool as a cucumber throughout, but in not too long I was sweatin'. Our nurse stayed with us through the day, with the doctor coming in to check and see if I was dilated. Despite a full day of hard contractions, I stayed a depressing "finger tip" (meaning not dilated at all).
At 3:00 pm we were at the highest allowable dose of Pitocin and still no more dilation, so it was discontinued to see if I could get some food and rest and to see if my body would take over contractions on its own. The contractions lessened but I was still able to have some food, take a walk and exist for a minute. Then at 7:00 pm they put in a vaginal suppository to help my cervix soften, and it was back to bed. We're told the suppository usually doesn't usually induce labor, but for the rare person it can.
Baby is sleeping, putting him back in the Pack n' Play. Nope, not sleepy enough, back out to lap.
Our overnight nurse was very proactive, which I loved. She was the second nurse that we had in the hospital, the first two in a line of fabulous, amazing, wonderful people that we would learn so much from and are SO thankful for. She walked us through how labor was going to go, told me that if I did any "princess pushing" she was going to cut off my epidural, and answered all the questions that we could possibly think of (nipple confusion? Not a thing). She warned us that getting the cervix dilated to 4 cm, especially for a first time mom, took the longest and then the rest of the journey to 10 cm would happen faster. Then she suggested a labor pose called "dancing," which we learned about in our pre-baby class. She said that once I was contracting again it would get things going - the contractions would get more painful but shorter and it would kick labor into gear. This was around 11:00 pm.
Around midnight the contractions began again in earnest. I thought that the ones that I had had at the end of the Pitocin run were pretty painful, but this was on a different scale. Nate and I spend at least 20 minutes "dancing". The contractions get faster and stronger. Between midnight and 1:00 am I dilate to-
Harrison opens eyes in my lap, I am distracted. We stare at each other for about two minutes until he poops. Daddy takes him to change him.
-dilate to 1 cm. Finally, some forward movement. The pain gets worse. Usually the doctor doesn't recommend an epidural until the cervix has dilated to 3-4cm. I keep requesting the doctor recheck my cervix but the progress is still slow. I was to keep moving forwards but the nurse and doctor strongly recommend I get some sleep, let my body rest, and we can pick things up in the morning. I take a Norco which makes me feel a bit loopy but takes the edge off enough that we try to sleep. Nate spends a little while trying to figure out how to turn off the lights in the room. We spend about 10 minutes in bed.
My water breaks. For me this feels like a submarine depth charge going off in my abdomen. They take a sample of my amniotic fluid and tell us that there is miconium (infant's first poop) in the amniotic fluid. This means that once he comes out, he needs to see a pediatrician immediately to make sure he hasn't aspirated any that might cause pneumonia. This also starts the count down - he needs to be out within 12:00 hours because of the miconium, so one way or another we will be meeting him by 3:00 pm the following day. Nate takes most of this in, I am having a hard time focusing even between contractions which are coming at a regular internal now. Nate tells me I described my pain level at this point as an 18 out of 10. I ask for the epidural, they check my cervix, I'm at 2cm. Better, but not enough for my OB to okay the epidural. I endure another hour before I hit 3cm and my OB gives the go-ahead. An anesthesiologist comes. They tell me that I cannot, cannot, cannot move while they are placing the epidural. Nothing will stand between me and what I hear is blissfully painless, numb legs. I am totally still. The epidural is heaven. I sleep for two hours.
The OB arrives at 7:00 am and I am at 6 cm. Fifteen minutes later something feels different and they find I'm at an 8. At long last this feels like progress, and I am still feeling delighted by the lack of feeling in my legs. We call the troops (Mom and Dad, Anna and her medical school roommate), and tell them to hurry in. Looking back, this makes me laugh. Everyone arrives around 8:00 am and I am dilated to 9.5 cm (out of the 10 cm, which is our goal). Everyone is excited. Then progress stalls. The last 0.5 cm refuses to open. I go back on Pitocin.
Two hours later I start to feel the urge to push. It is light at first, and then not. As we start pushing the sensation of the contractions comes back, which normally wouldn't be a bad thing - it's good to know when the best time to push is. I know, and we start pushing three counts of ten when the contractions peak. The nurse and OB say just to keep pushing if the contraction is still going, and it actually hurts less doing active pushing than just laying there through the contraction, so I am gradually doing four, then five counts of ten. My epidural seems to be completely gone. They top it up twice but it seems to make no difference. People say that the pain is indescribable, and they are right. Everyone tells me that I am doing a great job, and I think that was true at first, but every time they check his progress the second hour of pushing it doesn't feel like he's moved. The contractions are out of control and I am not getting a break. I have been pushing for two hours, and then something inside me changes. I know what I need to do.
Harrison is asleep now in Nate's arms. I take a deep breath, give him a kiss, and come back. Its strange how emotional this is.
I ask the OB about a ceaserian section. She meets my eyes and nods, and describes the procedure. I look at Nate and he looks scared. I think that I must be scared somewhere inside, I am shaking, but I have never been so sure of anything before. This was the right decision. She tells me that I can try pushing for another hour if I want, but it just might make him more stuck. I decline. We ask a few questions, sign a consent form, and I am wheeling down the hallway. Nate puts on scrubs and is ushered into a room while I get prepped. I am struck by how much it feels like the movies - watching the lights move above my head as I am wheeled in a hospital bed to the surgical suite.
The surgery itself is fast as easy, just like she said. Forty minutes at the end of 27 hours of labor, and the baby is out in ten. I hear him cry, and Nate watches him on the warmer. I don't remember much of this. I do remember when they got him out they said that he was a big baby, that we made the right decision. I got to kiss his cheek before they took him away. They asked if Nate wants to stay with me or go with Harrison. He stays with me. I told them to go find my mom. Then I am moving again, and going to recovery. I wanted a glass of ice water more than anything in the world. Somehow Nate is there with Harrison, although I don't know if he left and came back or if they brought him to us. I hold him and clumsily try to breast feed him. I sleep.
Harrison gets fussy again and I am happy for the distraction, I go pick him up and hold him close. I start to cry. Nate comes over and puts his arm around me and we just sit for a while. I am surrounded by baby clothes and smells and my newly expanded family. It helps to remember that we are all safe and all of this is over. I heat up some dinner, get some water, and return.
Harrison was born at 12:30 pm on Thursday, November 20th. He weighed 8 pounds and 11.5 ounces, and was 20.5 inches long. His head is elongated even more than what is normal for a vaginal birth, and you can clearly see a ring along his skull where he was stuck on my pelvic bone. He would not have come out naturally, and this makes me super thankful for modern medicine.
I don't remember much of the rest of that day. I was back in my room by around 1:30 pm. Mom and Dad were there, and Nate and Harrison of course. At some point my ears started ringing and I got really dizzy. We called the nurse and my blood pressure had dropped pretty significantly, so they made me lay back down and gave me more fluids. I was on Pitocin again to help my uterus contract and shed and start to go back to it's normal size. The nurses kept saying "moderate bleeding," and I wasn't sure if I should be concerned, but remember thinking that moderate didn't sound so bad, although they seemed preoccupied about it. It was hard to breathe, which they said was gas from the surgery. I was supposed to take deep breaths but it sent a sharp pain through my chest. They only gave me jello and apple sauce and fluids for dinner. I think people offered to come visit, but were gently turned away. My first cogent thought was at 2:00 am when they came in to take my blood pressure and temperature. I looked over at Nate in the sleeper across the room, and finally my brain snapped back in. He looked like hell. He had been taking care of both me and Harrison since the surgery, and hadn't slept because he was trying to keep Harrison quiet so that I could sleep. I ordered him to let the nurse take Harrison to the nursery for the rest of the night, and then passed back out.
Starting here, things get much much better. And I am thankful that Harrison is here with us, and for nurses and modern medicine and most of all for my amazing husband who held everything together for me and our beautiful son. And also a little thankful that if we decide to do this again I can skip the 27 hours and go directly to an elective caeserian, which was by far the easiest part.
Thank you for reading and I'll leave you with a picture of our happy family enjoying an early morning cuddle:
