When Anna told me that I was about to begin pushing, I couldn't believe it. I was still under the impression that I was getting a c-section. I wanted to ask her, "pushing what??" I'd seen it in movies and heard my friends talk about "pushing," but it still seemed really crazy that I was about to be doing just that.
I'd say I pushed for about three or four hours. I remember looking at the clock off and on and thinking, "I will remember that I pushed so-and-so long." Nope, can't remember. I'm sure my mom can, though. I just know it was a long time, but it was actually a really nice relief. Pushing, though intertwined with contractions, is like a cake walk compared to just contractions. Instead of intense pain, I was just super, super exhausted. I'd been awake for a really, really long time, had some crazy painful contractions, been stabbed with needles, pooped on everyone, and I hadn't eaten, so I was pretty worn out. However, pushing was something that I could control. The strength and frequency was all mine. I could do it.
They had me switch from the "traditional" pushing position to a very strange one. The same doctor who had only spent a few minutes in my room, then declared "cesarean sections for all!!!" actually came back (upon Anna's request) and showed them a different position to put me in. Reeve had turned, but not dropped all the way, so this new position should help push him down.
So, I pushed when they told me to. And when Anna told me to try to push, not thrice, but four times during a contraction, I did. From there on out I pushed four times instead of the "traditional" three. I'm non-traditional, obviously. And I'm kinda proud of myself for mustering up the energy to push like that.
After pushing and changing positions and pushing some more, I finally got a little break. She let me skip a contraction and rest. I'm pretty sure I completely passed out into a deep slumber during those two minutes. Best sleep I'd had in 24 hours.
While pushing, Derick stayed on my left side and whispered in my ear the whole time. He also helped me "crunch" my head toward my chest, and he held the top of my leg while Mom held the bottom. That stupid leg was an issue. Though it was dead from the piece of junk epidural, I could still feel these CRAZY painful cramps during and after each contraction. If it weren't for those cramps, I'd say that aspect of labor was fun. Ok, maybe not fun, but not hell either.
Though it just seemed totally natural for Derick to be right by my ear, I realize now that he'd planned that part out for himself. All along, he's had no interest in being "all up in the action." He was happily content whispering encouragement and Marine Corps moto jargon to me. Ooo-Rah!
Though I couldn't hear or understand what he was saying in the beginning, I think Derick's encouraging words were truly what helped me push as long and as intensely as I did. He's always been my strength. The pushing was working, too. Reeve was dropping, and Anna told me after a check that he had hair.
I'd pushed for a really long time, and I was just so super worn out, when I saw even more excitement on Anna's face. She told my mom to "look." They could see Reeve's sweet little head. She asked me if I wanted her to get a mirror. I had tried to prepare myself for this question in the months prior. It's kinda weird, I think, to want to see a baby protruding out of your body. Well I thought that at one time, but when the question was actually directed at me, I said yes. I really wanted to see my son.
They brought in the mirror and had a hard time getting it adjusted just right so that I could see anything. I asked Derick if he could see, and he said no. He wasn't going to look. I knew better than to ask him. Such a party pooper. Finally, the mirror was right, and sure enough, if I looked really closely, I could see the top of Reeve's head. He was perfect to me even at that strange moment.
I made them move the mirror shortly after because it was distracting. Now I had some more motivation, so onward I pushed. And pushed...and pushed...Until Anna or someone went to get the room-preppers. Maybe the room-preppers had come before this, but I really think they came at this point. There were a lot of people in the room at the time, and one was my doctor. Tiffany Middleton had gone home, and Dr. Edwards had taken her place. I'd seen doctor Edwards a couple of times during my prenatal visits. He's the guy that said Reeve was a "tank."
Anyway, he came in along with a couple of nurses, and things started happening pretty quickly. They'd found out that Reeve was "meconium," as they kept calling it. I didn't know if that meant that he'd pooped or if he'd actually swallowed the poop. Apparently, he'd just pooped, but they told me when it came to the final push, don't push. Also they said I wouldn't hear him cry right off because they were going to suction out the gunk.
Dr. Edwards asked me if I wanted him to use the vacuum. Of course Google had freaked me out about vacuums when it came to child birth. I talked it over with Dr. Edwards, who said he delivered his own son and used the vacuum. Anna also said it was safe and used frequently, but I should expect a cone-head. haha. I finally said yes when Derick told me we should do it. I was tired, and we were ready to see our son. Plus, this educated man who could potentially be sued for giving me ill advice was pretty enthused about the vacuum, so I said let's do it.
The vacuum isn't a big Bissel Steamer. It's a little flat something or other that they put on his head. It vibrates, I push, and it pulls. Dr. Edwards told me that it was still 90% me, 10% vacuum, or some other percentage that seemed to be more dependent upon my strength.
I started pushing again, and it didn't take long for the vacuum to be inserted. I saw, at some point, Dr. Edwards grab some really long, silver shears and I remember wondering what those were for. Was he going to cut Reeve? I really didn't know at the time, but the stitches that came later ensured me that he'd performed an episiotomy.
On the final push that didn't really involve a push, I remember an immense amount of pressure being lifted off my body, and someone say, "it's a boy." I was like DUH. Anna said, "1631," and I strained to look at my tiny baby. So many hands and tools, and stitches, plus the weird way I was laying made it only possible for me to see his sweet legs and feet first. I was getting impatient. I wanted to see all of him. They suctioned him quickly, though, and when I heard that first cry, I couldn't help but to feel relief. So much relief. Our baby was here, and he could cry, and he was ok. He was better than ok. He was perfect. When I first saw him--and I don't remember the exact moment because my world was frozen--I saw my entire life, my everything, so, so much, right in front of me.
Someone handed him to me, and I remember saying over and over, "Hi, my baby. Hi, Mama's baby." Reeve was finally, finally in my arms where he belonged.
Anna told me that she wanted me to keep him on my chest for a while, just skin to skin, so they worked around me trying to get the hideous gown off so that I could hold him. She covered us with a blanket, and I wanted to stay just like that for the rest of my life.
I asked her when I could feed him, which was dumb, because he was my baby and I could do whatever I wanted, but I saw a little bit of urgency in her face, so I decided to ask. She assured me I could feed him soon, but she wanted me to hold him for a while. So I did.
They took him away for some reason, and asked me if Derick could hold him. My mom told me I was kinda snotty in my response. "Well, of course!"
I watched my two boys, standing in the sunlight of a Tuesday. My mom took pictures as Derick made sounds and talked to our baby. They were perfect. It was all perfect.
Anna saw Reeve a little later and told me, "he looks so much better. I told the nurses in the nursery that I had you lay him on your chest, and they said that was a good idea. It's amazing what skin-to-skin can do. You healed him."
I wasn't sure what she meant by healed him. It was more like he healed me. He made every sinful, ugly aspect of myself vanish away. He was part of me, and he was flawless. Apparently, though, Reeve wasn't breathing very well in the beginning, and just being close to me helped him calm down and regulate. Wow.
Because I'd developed a fever during delivery, they had to do extra tests on Reeve, so he and Derick were in the nursery for quite a while. He had a tiny bit of a temp, but not much, and it went down quickly. I was worried while I waited, but his Daddy was with him. Reeve was in good hands. The fever thing was scary, but once we were in the clear, I realized it was a blessing. Because of it, they couldn't put me in a shared room. So, we got a very small (but very appreciated) private room.
So, there you have it. That is pretty much Reeve's birth story, with a few slip ups, I'm sure. Giving birth was the single craziest, most painful experience I've ever been through. It was also the most incredibly rewarding experience, and I would do it all over a billion times for Reeve Roberts if I had to.
I'd written a birth plan in July, and it outlined everything *I thought* I wanted. I didn't want any induction meds. I didn't want an episiotomy. I wanted to walk around and do other "natural" things to bring on the birth before an actual induction. I wanted time to nurse immediately after the delivery. I had so many things planned out, but when it came down to it, I realized 1) I didn't really know enough about birth and medicine to question the professionals who did, and 2) sometimes, things happen that destroy our plans. Usually when that happens, though, the end result is better than anything we could have hoped for anyway. I'm grateful for everything that happened during Reeve's birth. Even though it was physically painful, the joy in my heart totally outweighs the pain.
Being Reeve's mama is the hardest, most fun thing in the world. But more on that later...he's ticked that I laid him down in the middle of a game of "giddy up horsey, go to town."
Enjoy one of Reeve's songs. I sang it to him while he was in my belly, and he still loves it...if he's in a good mood, that is;)
Morning Has Broken by Cat Stevens
Monday, October 22, 2012
Saturday, October 20, 2012
Reeve Part Two: Pain is Weakness Leaving the Body
Reeve is finally down for the count (for now), and though there are a million other things I need to be doing, I wanted to make a point to sit down and continue the birth story or I may never get around to doing it. Maybe Reeve wants to sleep for a little bit. He's been going full speed all morning. (Edit: this is actually now the third day I've sat down to work on this post. Reeve has been able to relax a little better today. He has a blocked tear duct, so that has been a little rough on him, but I've managed to help him have some relief.)
Things start to get a little blurry where I left off. All the excitement and medication made the proceeding nights and days sort of surreal. During rare times when I was able to take a moment and think about what was happening, I noticed I was sort of on the outside looking in. I've come to believe that God gives us that ability. Maybe he knows that the physical pain could potentially prohibit us from fully enjoying the miracle of giving birth, so he gives us little moments to peer into reality without being totally aware of our current state. Either way, I was surely grateful for the ability to detach from my body somewhat, and maybe you will understand why as you read on.
My nurse, Anna, gave me a little introductory speech about what the plan of action would be. I don't remember much because so many monumental things happened in those 24 hours, but I remember her telling me that because my membranes had ruptured, they couldn't administer Cervidil for risk of infection. Instead they were going to insert a tiny, dissolving pill that would help me dilate. I can't remember what it's called, but it's basically the pill form of Cervidil, if I'm even spelling that right. Haha. After a few hours of letting the pill do it's work, they would insert another. Pretty much, they were trying to help me dilate. At this point I hadn't dilated whatsoever, and Anna said it was going to be a "relay race", so I should just settle in and get ready. I should have taken her words to heart.
After the first pill was inserted, it took an hour or so for anything to really happen. I remember going to the restroom, and suddenly feeling crazy pain all over my body. I didn't know what was going on, but it took FOREVER for me to finish doing my business and getting back into bed. Those early contractions were terrible, but nothing compared to what was coming. Oh, I was so naive.
My contractions slowly strengthened, but at this point they were still manageable. I finally realized that I was stupid for thinking during the weeks prior that, perhaps I was actually having contractions, but because of my super mega strength, they just weren't phasing me. So, for you who are planning to have children, TRUST ME and others when we say that you will know when you are having an actual contraction. So many people told me that, but I was always questioning my body and thought that every little weird pain could potentially be a contraction. Nope. You will know.
They monitored my contractions as well as Reeve's heartbeat. This was good/bad for me because every time the sound on the machine would change, I became a little edgy and had to look at the lines to make sure they were in the safe zone. This allowed for zero sleep. I should have heeded Anna's advice to rest after the first dose of whatever-it-was. I didn't though, and to this day, I'm regretting it. I keep looking back just wanting to take those last couple hours of potential sleep and absorb them into every inch of myself. Note to future moms: Also believe others when they say you will not ever sleep again after the baby is born. They aren't kidding.
As the contractions grew stronger, my thoughts started getting weird, and it was at this point that I slowly became a little disconnected from what was going on. Not that I wasn't there, feeling it emotionally, physically. Oh, I definitely felt it all. But it all seemed like a movie. I, a baby, really, sitting across the room from my mom, who still treats me like a baby to this day, was about to become a mother myself. My husband of more than seven years sat next to me, falling in and out of sleep, but continued to hold my hand. He was about to be a dad, and he still seemed like the 20-year-old, long-haired hippie that had dance parties with me in our first apartment. How was it that time had brought us to this moment? We'd been waiting for this tiny person to come for much longer than the nine months that he'd been in my belly. We'd been praying for him for years.
At some point Rita came back and monitored me over night. She had me rock in a rocking chair, I guess to get things a-going. This actually happened between the two pill insertions, I think. Forgive me, it's all such a blur. Reeve hadn't dropped whatsoever, despite our declarations that he had. It was definitely going to be a relay race, and I began to worry when the word "C-Section" started falling off the tongues of the people around me.
Rita was super sweet. She was an older lady with years of nursing experience. She was friendly and had the same sarcastic humor that Derick and I have. I felt comfortable around her, and I could tell that she liked us. The rumor was that she'd actually requested to be our nurse.
My contractions became closer together and stronger as the night went on. I don't know what time anything really happened. I just know things got harder. The lightheartedness that once filled the room slowly dissipated. My parents and Derick's parents were in and out...well, I don't think my mom left the room once. If she did, I didn't notice. I held Derick's hand during each contraction. I remember holding his wrist and arm up in the air in very strange positions. I thought it was weird/funny, but it seemed to help keep my mind off the pain. I guess because I just kept thinking about how weird it was. My mom rubbed my feet and legs. They weren't really hurting too terribly, but if she stopped, it hurt, so I had her continue. She did without argument. Sometimes Derick and Mom switched duties. I remember telling Derick to back away, saying "your BREATH!" I was getting more irritable, but I tried with all my might to be strong. I'd tried for the past nine months to be strong, to not complain, to remember what it's all for. I'd done well, I thought, but it was getting more and more difficult to be comfortable. When I was hot, Derick fanned me with his hand, and I made him stop because it made me nervous. Those two incidents will forever be in my mind. I was rude to the man who was putting up with a lot of my crap. Literally. More on that later.
Anna and Brittany came back and Anna told me what was going on. Reeve still hadn't dropped, and though I'd dilated, it was only to maybe a two or so. Nothing was really happening, so they were going to administer Pitocin. I'd only learned what that was a couple weeks prior, and I still really wasn't sure what it really did. I'm still not quite sure, but I do know that it made my contractions so frequent and so strong that I couldn't say anything except things like "I can't do this" and "it hurrrrrrts." I'm a pretty tough cookie. Derick might disagree, but for a girl, I can take some pain if I have to. If I can focus and if I have no choice, I can deal with physical infliction, but those contractions were HORRIBLE. Looking back, I can't even remember how they felt. I just remember thinking at the time that I was going to die. I wondered if I could pass out from pain. I remember talking to Derick and to Mom individually. Somehow it helped to have each of them encourage me separately.
Things are really, really blurry at this point. I don't know the timeline of events, and I don't know who did or said what. I just remember having a couple emotional breakdowns with Anna as she told me that the docs were talking about a c-section. At this point, I balled my eyes out and told her that I really didn't want a c-section if it was possible. It was looking like that was what things had come down to, but Anna was very sweet and encouraging. I was liking her more and more. She told me that no matter what happened, I was going to be a mommy soon. I was going to have a baby and it was going to be a day of celebration. No matter how he got here, he was going to be my angel. That helped. Deep down, though, I just didn't want the surgery. I was super scared of this. I had Derick text one of my friends who'd had the surgery to ask her if she was scared. So silly. I couldn't stop crying about it, and each of my family members came to stand next to me and reassure me. The one moment that stands out in my mind is when my dad, super tough, came to hug me and tell me it was ok. It was a tender moment, unlike any that I'd ever had with my Daddy. I can't really remember what he said, but he was so comforting. I didn't want to tell everyone what I was envisioning, but I felt like if I did let someone know, maybe the thought would just be "out there," and I wouldn't feel so scared. So, I told them that I just couldn't picture having the surgery and surviving. So dumb, I know. C-sections are performed every day, on so many people, that they really aren't that big of a deal at all. But I just felt in my heart that I would not wake up from it to see my son.
I'm not sure if this happened before or after anything I've mentioned. Like I said, it all runs together, so I'm basically just reverberating what happened, in no particular order. When the contractions were in high gear, they started talking about breaking my water and epidurals. I had two options, and a really nice doctor, Tiffany Middleton, who looked a lot like Michelle Obama, came to discuss the options with me. At this moment, I don't remember the two options and Derick isn't here for me to ask, but I do know that they had to do with breaking my water, waiting an hour, and getting an epidural. One was more "natural" than the other, and of course the "unnatural" option could possibly be a less painful alternative. They didn't describe them as "natural" or "unnatural," but I just knew. I took the unnatural route. The only reason I know this is because I made Tiffany Middleton explain both options to me about five times, Derick had to explain them to me twice, and Anna piped in a little, too, and once I made my decision, Tiffany Middleton told me that she doesn't like to tell patients to do one thing or the other. She wants them to make the decision they feel most comfortable with. When she said this, something just told me that I'd chosen the more unnatural route, and at that point, I wasn't concerned about nature. I was concerned with the EXTREME FREAKING PAIN all over my body.
Cervical checks were the worst. They tried to do them in between contractions, but mine were so close together that, sure enough, they'd be checking and BOOM, I'd get attacked. I became more and more comfortable with the people around me. I didn't care if they saw me cry or if they saw my butt or if I said really stupid things while they were around. Pain can make you insensitive.
Oh and when your water breaks, it's really creepy. I'm not sure how it is when it happens on its own, but when Tiff broke mine, it sounded like someone popped a GIANT water balloon. Even Derick was impressed.
Finally, finally, after I waited the hour, I was getting an epidural. This was the only time Derick and my mom left the room that I know of. I didn't know what to expect at all, but my friends had really talked the epidural up, so I was excited. The anesthesiologist (I spelled that correctly on my first try, so boom shocka locka locka) came in and was kinda a turd. He kept saying he was going to make me feel much better, and looking back, that seems weird, but I was glad to hear it at the time Luckily, Rita was there. She helped me to sit in a strange position and hug a pillow. She put her forehead to mine, and I remember her saying, "I would have made the exact same decision. You made the right choice." I asked her, "Really?" and she said yes. She talked me through the strangeness of the epidural injection. It didn't feel bad compared to the contractions I was having. On a scale of frowny face to teethy smile, it was a strong grin. Not bad. I asked the turd when it would kick in, and he told me shortly. I laid back and waited, and I think it was at this point that Rita got a really serious look on her face and pushed the emergency button on my bed. She moved really quickly and started doing a lot of things at once. She made me put on the oxygen mask and told me to start breathing deeply. I asked her twice what was going on, and she said very calmly that the baby's heart rate was dropping. When she said that, I started sucking that oxygen down like it was a freaking ice cold root beer. I was getting scared, but in the same breath that she called the nurses off, she told me it wasn't unusual when you get an epidural and his heart rate was already heading back up. I continued to suck the oxygen like each breath was my last. I was doing it without thinking, until Rita finally told me to chill out on the oxygen.
A few minutes later, they let everyone come back in. I was feeling much better. Much MUCH better. I remember telling Derick the oxygen story but thinking he wasn't taking me seriously. Epidurals are awesome. I wasn't feeling a thing. At all. For about fifteen minutes. Then, I slowly began to feel some pressure/pain on my left side. It was weird, and I told Anna about it. She told me to just roll over. Epidurals work with gravity, so maybe I just needed to let gravity do its work. The pain moved from side to side for a while, and it kept getting stronger until it was finally a crazy burning all over my entire abdomen. It was horrible. I can't remember what was worse, the actual contractions or this burning pain that they thought was a "hot spot." When I couldn't take anymore, I cried to Anna and told her I just couldn't do it. She was so nice to have the anesthesiologist come back to give me more meds. This time, it worked for about five minutes and the pain and burning were back in full force. I was constantly in tears and I couldn't talk. Apparently, epidurals do not work on my body. Not where they need to work anyway. My legs were dead to the world, but I felt all the contractions and they were even more painful after the guy gave me medicine for the third time. By that time, Anna told me it just wasn't going to work and my only option was just to deal with it. So I dealt. I have no idea how I did, either.
Reeve was still super high and posterior, but miraculously, I was dilating. I remember them saying I was at a seven or so, and Anna just couldn't believe it. She actually grabbed a doctor that I only remember seeing just that once to, I guess, brag about my advancement. This doctor was discouraging as she only stayed in the room for maybe five minutes and still talked about how it wasn't looking like I was going to be able to have natural birth. Anna was still excited. She told me that because he was posterior, however, it was going to make everything even more difficult than it already was. So, she had me move from my back to my hands and knees (this mere movement was almost impossible. I was feeling every tinge of pain in every part of my body besides my legs. My legs were wonderfully numb, not that it mattered.)
On my hands and knees, she had me wiggle my hips back and forth during every contraction. I soon found that once I started moving, there was no stopping. So I buried my head in my hands on the bed, wiggled my hips constantly (this happened for about an hour), and didn't say a word. Anna kept telling me that I needed to let them know when I was feeling the urgency to poop. She said that was an early sign that it was nearing time to push. I felt the urgency a few times, and she told me not to fight it. So this is where the story gets a little crappy, if you know what I mean. I've told people that I have no shame whatsoever these days, and that has a lot to do with the moments I'm about to describe.
Anna said that I needed to relax my bottom. She said this would get things rolling, and he would be able to make his way down. But because I was tensing up, Reeve was having a very difficult--nearly impossible--time getting in the right position. I kept telling her, "but I will poop, but I will poop." And finally she got down at eye level with me and said, "I don't care. Go ahead and poop." I guess it took someone telling me I was good to go before I would actually "let loose." When I finally did, sure enough, I couldn't stop. So for the hour I was wiggling my hips, I was also pooping. Poor Derick and Brittany, who were both next to me. But let me just tell you that if your biggest fear is pooping during childbirth, you just better get over it. That was not my biggest fear, but the actual event caught me totes off guard.
"Are you ready to start pushing?"
Errrrrkk...breaks. What???
The time had come. I was going to push? So, what, no c-section?? At this point, I was feeling that having the surgery was the next step, and I was so tired and in so much agonizing pain that I was sort of looking forward to some relief and potentially some pain killers that actually worked.When my hour of wiggling/pooping was over, I was turned back around for another check. Anna said, "you did it!" I wasn't sure what I'd done besides make a mess of the place, but she was excited, so I assumed it was a good thing. "He turned. He's in the right position! You did it!" It was at that moment, after all the pooping and pain and contractions and crying and speechlessness...after the nine months of waiting, the puking, the spitting, the hating my favorite foods because they made me vomit...after having my heart completely broken this time last year and feeling nothing but hopelessness...after years of waiting and feeling like if I'd made one good decision in my life and marriage, it was to wait until the moment was right to have a baby...after spending the majority of 2012 looking at my belly and knowing that not another damn thing would ever matter in this world again...I finally felt like a real mother.
In a few hours, that would become reality....
Things start to get a little blurry where I left off. All the excitement and medication made the proceeding nights and days sort of surreal. During rare times when I was able to take a moment and think about what was happening, I noticed I was sort of on the outside looking in. I've come to believe that God gives us that ability. Maybe he knows that the physical pain could potentially prohibit us from fully enjoying the miracle of giving birth, so he gives us little moments to peer into reality without being totally aware of our current state. Either way, I was surely grateful for the ability to detach from my body somewhat, and maybe you will understand why as you read on.
My nurse, Anna, gave me a little introductory speech about what the plan of action would be. I don't remember much because so many monumental things happened in those 24 hours, but I remember her telling me that because my membranes had ruptured, they couldn't administer Cervidil for risk of infection. Instead they were going to insert a tiny, dissolving pill that would help me dilate. I can't remember what it's called, but it's basically the pill form of Cervidil, if I'm even spelling that right. Haha. After a few hours of letting the pill do it's work, they would insert another. Pretty much, they were trying to help me dilate. At this point I hadn't dilated whatsoever, and Anna said it was going to be a "relay race", so I should just settle in and get ready. I should have taken her words to heart.
After the first pill was inserted, it took an hour or so for anything to really happen. I remember going to the restroom, and suddenly feeling crazy pain all over my body. I didn't know what was going on, but it took FOREVER for me to finish doing my business and getting back into bed. Those early contractions were terrible, but nothing compared to what was coming. Oh, I was so naive.
My contractions slowly strengthened, but at this point they were still manageable. I finally realized that I was stupid for thinking during the weeks prior that, perhaps I was actually having contractions, but because of my super mega strength, they just weren't phasing me. So, for you who are planning to have children, TRUST ME and others when we say that you will know when you are having an actual contraction. So many people told me that, but I was always questioning my body and thought that every little weird pain could potentially be a contraction. Nope. You will know.
They monitored my contractions as well as Reeve's heartbeat. This was good/bad for me because every time the sound on the machine would change, I became a little edgy and had to look at the lines to make sure they were in the safe zone. This allowed for zero sleep. I should have heeded Anna's advice to rest after the first dose of whatever-it-was. I didn't though, and to this day, I'm regretting it. I keep looking back just wanting to take those last couple hours of potential sleep and absorb them into every inch of myself. Note to future moms: Also believe others when they say you will not ever sleep again after the baby is born. They aren't kidding.
As the contractions grew stronger, my thoughts started getting weird, and it was at this point that I slowly became a little disconnected from what was going on. Not that I wasn't there, feeling it emotionally, physically. Oh, I definitely felt it all. But it all seemed like a movie. I, a baby, really, sitting across the room from my mom, who still treats me like a baby to this day, was about to become a mother myself. My husband of more than seven years sat next to me, falling in and out of sleep, but continued to hold my hand. He was about to be a dad, and he still seemed like the 20-year-old, long-haired hippie that had dance parties with me in our first apartment. How was it that time had brought us to this moment? We'd been waiting for this tiny person to come for much longer than the nine months that he'd been in my belly. We'd been praying for him for years.
At some point Rita came back and monitored me over night. She had me rock in a rocking chair, I guess to get things a-going. This actually happened between the two pill insertions, I think. Forgive me, it's all such a blur. Reeve hadn't dropped whatsoever, despite our declarations that he had. It was definitely going to be a relay race, and I began to worry when the word "C-Section" started falling off the tongues of the people around me.
Rita was super sweet. She was an older lady with years of nursing experience. She was friendly and had the same sarcastic humor that Derick and I have. I felt comfortable around her, and I could tell that she liked us. The rumor was that she'd actually requested to be our nurse.
My contractions became closer together and stronger as the night went on. I don't know what time anything really happened. I just know things got harder. The lightheartedness that once filled the room slowly dissipated. My parents and Derick's parents were in and out...well, I don't think my mom left the room once. If she did, I didn't notice. I held Derick's hand during each contraction. I remember holding his wrist and arm up in the air in very strange positions. I thought it was weird/funny, but it seemed to help keep my mind off the pain. I guess because I just kept thinking about how weird it was. My mom rubbed my feet and legs. They weren't really hurting too terribly, but if she stopped, it hurt, so I had her continue. She did without argument. Sometimes Derick and Mom switched duties. I remember telling Derick to back away, saying "your BREATH!" I was getting more irritable, but I tried with all my might to be strong. I'd tried for the past nine months to be strong, to not complain, to remember what it's all for. I'd done well, I thought, but it was getting more and more difficult to be comfortable. When I was hot, Derick fanned me with his hand, and I made him stop because it made me nervous. Those two incidents will forever be in my mind. I was rude to the man who was putting up with a lot of my crap. Literally. More on that later.
Anna and Brittany came back and Anna told me what was going on. Reeve still hadn't dropped, and though I'd dilated, it was only to maybe a two or so. Nothing was really happening, so they were going to administer Pitocin. I'd only learned what that was a couple weeks prior, and I still really wasn't sure what it really did. I'm still not quite sure, but I do know that it made my contractions so frequent and so strong that I couldn't say anything except things like "I can't do this" and "it hurrrrrrts." I'm a pretty tough cookie. Derick might disagree, but for a girl, I can take some pain if I have to. If I can focus and if I have no choice, I can deal with physical infliction, but those contractions were HORRIBLE. Looking back, I can't even remember how they felt. I just remember thinking at the time that I was going to die. I wondered if I could pass out from pain. I remember talking to Derick and to Mom individually. Somehow it helped to have each of them encourage me separately.
Things are really, really blurry at this point. I don't know the timeline of events, and I don't know who did or said what. I just remember having a couple emotional breakdowns with Anna as she told me that the docs were talking about a c-section. At this point, I balled my eyes out and told her that I really didn't want a c-section if it was possible. It was looking like that was what things had come down to, but Anna was very sweet and encouraging. I was liking her more and more. She told me that no matter what happened, I was going to be a mommy soon. I was going to have a baby and it was going to be a day of celebration. No matter how he got here, he was going to be my angel. That helped. Deep down, though, I just didn't want the surgery. I was super scared of this. I had Derick text one of my friends who'd had the surgery to ask her if she was scared. So silly. I couldn't stop crying about it, and each of my family members came to stand next to me and reassure me. The one moment that stands out in my mind is when my dad, super tough, came to hug me and tell me it was ok. It was a tender moment, unlike any that I'd ever had with my Daddy. I can't really remember what he said, but he was so comforting. I didn't want to tell everyone what I was envisioning, but I felt like if I did let someone know, maybe the thought would just be "out there," and I wouldn't feel so scared. So, I told them that I just couldn't picture having the surgery and surviving. So dumb, I know. C-sections are performed every day, on so many people, that they really aren't that big of a deal at all. But I just felt in my heart that I would not wake up from it to see my son.
I'm not sure if this happened before or after anything I've mentioned. Like I said, it all runs together, so I'm basically just reverberating what happened, in no particular order. When the contractions were in high gear, they started talking about breaking my water and epidurals. I had two options, and a really nice doctor, Tiffany Middleton, who looked a lot like Michelle Obama, came to discuss the options with me. At this moment, I don't remember the two options and Derick isn't here for me to ask, but I do know that they had to do with breaking my water, waiting an hour, and getting an epidural. One was more "natural" than the other, and of course the "unnatural" option could possibly be a less painful alternative. They didn't describe them as "natural" or "unnatural," but I just knew. I took the unnatural route. The only reason I know this is because I made Tiffany Middleton explain both options to me about five times, Derick had to explain them to me twice, and Anna piped in a little, too, and once I made my decision, Tiffany Middleton told me that she doesn't like to tell patients to do one thing or the other. She wants them to make the decision they feel most comfortable with. When she said this, something just told me that I'd chosen the more unnatural route, and at that point, I wasn't concerned about nature. I was concerned with the EXTREME FREAKING PAIN all over my body.
Cervical checks were the worst. They tried to do them in between contractions, but mine were so close together that, sure enough, they'd be checking and BOOM, I'd get attacked. I became more and more comfortable with the people around me. I didn't care if they saw me cry or if they saw my butt or if I said really stupid things while they were around. Pain can make you insensitive.
Oh and when your water breaks, it's really creepy. I'm not sure how it is when it happens on its own, but when Tiff broke mine, it sounded like someone popped a GIANT water balloon. Even Derick was impressed.
Finally, finally, after I waited the hour, I was getting an epidural. This was the only time Derick and my mom left the room that I know of. I didn't know what to expect at all, but my friends had really talked the epidural up, so I was excited. The anesthesiologist (I spelled that correctly on my first try, so boom shocka locka locka) came in and was kinda a turd. He kept saying he was going to make me feel much better, and looking back, that seems weird, but I was glad to hear it at the time Luckily, Rita was there. She helped me to sit in a strange position and hug a pillow. She put her forehead to mine, and I remember her saying, "I would have made the exact same decision. You made the right choice." I asked her, "Really?" and she said yes. She talked me through the strangeness of the epidural injection. It didn't feel bad compared to the contractions I was having. On a scale of frowny face to teethy smile, it was a strong grin. Not bad. I asked the turd when it would kick in, and he told me shortly. I laid back and waited, and I think it was at this point that Rita got a really serious look on her face and pushed the emergency button on my bed. She moved really quickly and started doing a lot of things at once. She made me put on the oxygen mask and told me to start breathing deeply. I asked her twice what was going on, and she said very calmly that the baby's heart rate was dropping. When she said that, I started sucking that oxygen down like it was a freaking ice cold root beer. I was getting scared, but in the same breath that she called the nurses off, she told me it wasn't unusual when you get an epidural and his heart rate was already heading back up. I continued to suck the oxygen like each breath was my last. I was doing it without thinking, until Rita finally told me to chill out on the oxygen.
A few minutes later, they let everyone come back in. I was feeling much better. Much MUCH better. I remember telling Derick the oxygen story but thinking he wasn't taking me seriously. Epidurals are awesome. I wasn't feeling a thing. At all. For about fifteen minutes. Then, I slowly began to feel some pressure/pain on my left side. It was weird, and I told Anna about it. She told me to just roll over. Epidurals work with gravity, so maybe I just needed to let gravity do its work. The pain moved from side to side for a while, and it kept getting stronger until it was finally a crazy burning all over my entire abdomen. It was horrible. I can't remember what was worse, the actual contractions or this burning pain that they thought was a "hot spot." When I couldn't take anymore, I cried to Anna and told her I just couldn't do it. She was so nice to have the anesthesiologist come back to give me more meds. This time, it worked for about five minutes and the pain and burning were back in full force. I was constantly in tears and I couldn't talk. Apparently, epidurals do not work on my body. Not where they need to work anyway. My legs were dead to the world, but I felt all the contractions and they were even more painful after the guy gave me medicine for the third time. By that time, Anna told me it just wasn't going to work and my only option was just to deal with it. So I dealt. I have no idea how I did, either.
Reeve was still super high and posterior, but miraculously, I was dilating. I remember them saying I was at a seven or so, and Anna just couldn't believe it. She actually grabbed a doctor that I only remember seeing just that once to, I guess, brag about my advancement. This doctor was discouraging as she only stayed in the room for maybe five minutes and still talked about how it wasn't looking like I was going to be able to have natural birth. Anna was still excited. She told me that because he was posterior, however, it was going to make everything even more difficult than it already was. So, she had me move from my back to my hands and knees (this mere movement was almost impossible. I was feeling every tinge of pain in every part of my body besides my legs. My legs were wonderfully numb, not that it mattered.)
On my hands and knees, she had me wiggle my hips back and forth during every contraction. I soon found that once I started moving, there was no stopping. So I buried my head in my hands on the bed, wiggled my hips constantly (this happened for about an hour), and didn't say a word. Anna kept telling me that I needed to let them know when I was feeling the urgency to poop. She said that was an early sign that it was nearing time to push. I felt the urgency a few times, and she told me not to fight it. So this is where the story gets a little crappy, if you know what I mean. I've told people that I have no shame whatsoever these days, and that has a lot to do with the moments I'm about to describe.
Anna said that I needed to relax my bottom. She said this would get things rolling, and he would be able to make his way down. But because I was tensing up, Reeve was having a very difficult--nearly impossible--time getting in the right position. I kept telling her, "but I will poop, but I will poop." And finally she got down at eye level with me and said, "I don't care. Go ahead and poop." I guess it took someone telling me I was good to go before I would actually "let loose." When I finally did, sure enough, I couldn't stop. So for the hour I was wiggling my hips, I was also pooping. Poor Derick and Brittany, who were both next to me. But let me just tell you that if your biggest fear is pooping during childbirth, you just better get over it. That was not my biggest fear, but the actual event caught me totes off guard.
"Are you ready to start pushing?"
Errrrrkk...breaks. What???
The time had come. I was going to push? So, what, no c-section?? At this point, I was feeling that having the surgery was the next step, and I was so tired and in so much agonizing pain that I was sort of looking forward to some relief and potentially some pain killers that actually worked.When my hour of wiggling/pooping was over, I was turned back around for another check. Anna said, "you did it!" I wasn't sure what I'd done besides make a mess of the place, but she was excited, so I assumed it was a good thing. "He turned. He's in the right position! You did it!" It was at that moment, after all the pooping and pain and contractions and crying and speechlessness...after the nine months of waiting, the puking, the spitting, the hating my favorite foods because they made me vomit...after having my heart completely broken this time last year and feeling nothing but hopelessness...after years of waiting and feeling like if I'd made one good decision in my life and marriage, it was to wait until the moment was right to have a baby...after spending the majority of 2012 looking at my belly and knowing that not another damn thing would ever matter in this world again...I finally felt like a real mother.
In a few hours, that would become reality....
Monday, October 15, 2012
Reeve Part One: Waiting on the World to Change.
Hello blog! Golly gee, it sure has been a while since my last post, which was about pineapples. That tells me it's been nearly a MONTH since I posted! So much has happened and changed in our lives, and it's kinda spectacular that I've found the time to blog right now. At any moment, the most precious angel will awake and be ready to EAT, so it may take a while for me to actually share this post. Let me preface with an apology for any errors. I'm running on fumes and chocolate these days, so I might not come across as the grammatical guru that I truly am deep within. It's seriously a victory if I put clothes on during the day. For real.
Well, I really want to share Reeve's birth story. I've thought a lot about this, and I've come across two main dilemmas: 1) how much to share? My story isn't glitz and glamour by any means. I was NOT Beyonce, relaxing in the most elegant and peaceful manor while Reeve gently slid out of my body. Umm no. So what all should I include in my story? I don't want to get on Derick's bad side by mentioning my girl parts too much. (He does a good job changing diapers...I need to keep him happy!) 2) How am I going to find the time to sit down and write a story that long? Our boy eats frequently. I mean, FrEqUeNtLy! ---and the boy awakes!---(An hour later---) See what I mean? I guess I'm just going to type until I am called to duty elsewhere. Actually, my friend, Heather, has a really cool blog that has been a point of both reference and solace during my pregnancy/mommy journey. She had the best idea by breaking her birth story into parts. Duh, why didn't I think of this?? Anyway, I'm stealing her idea. View her hilarious and heartwarming blog here: cakeandgreenbeans.wordpress.com
Anyway, without further ado, here it is. Part one of: The Birth Story of Reeve Magnus Roberts aka Brother aka Muscle Man.
On the evening of Thursday, September 20, I was at my parents' camper at Onslow Beach here on base when I thought my water broke. (Later, I truly found out what it's like when your water breaks. Had it truly occurred at the camper, there would have been no question.) I got everyone excited (despite my deliberately calm demeanor) by saying that I might need to eventually go to the hospital that night. Derick and I hung out at the camper for a while, then headed home so that I could shower just in case we decided it was time. Nothing big happened until I tried to get out of bed to use the bathroom and nearly fell over in pain. Now that I know what an actual contraction feels like, that early pain is quite laughable. But at the time, despite everyone's insistence that I "would know" when I was having a contraction, it felt like maybe the real thing? So Derick and I loaded our bag, Reeve's bag and the car seat into the car and took off. They wheeled me in a cool wheelchair to the maternity ward (doesn't the word "ward" make you think of a crazy-person place?) I thoroughly enjoyed the wheelchair ride. I wanted to tell her I could walk, but the ride was too fun. At this point, I wasn't having any pain, so I was pretty convinced they were sending me home. The nurse, Rita, who was one of the many gems in this story, told me that she was so excited I was there. I was apparently the only person on the birthing wing, so she was thankful for some potential excitement. Too bad for her though because after several tests and a couple hours of watching TV and drinking apple juice, they determined my water was in tact. I'd just peed my pants, which I'd initially told Rita I thought might have happened. She said the pain was caused from dehydration, so she gave me a giant Onslow Memorial mug, which I love, and sent me packing. The whole packing thing bummed Derick out a little bit. He was determined to get as many days off as he possibly could, and he really didn't want to go to work the following day. But we went home, went to bed, and waited some more...
FF to Monday, September 24. I was at the camper again. My mom made a roast in the crock pot, and she was making mac and cheese and potatoes to go with it. She'd also bought a pecan pie, and my in-laws brought a coconut cake and chocolate cake. (We were really trying to persuade Reeve to get out here where the good stuff is...although it was a trick, seeing as he had a direct line to the good stuff while in my bell.) Anyway, Derick was at work, and I'd just assumed it'd be a long night for him, judging on the previous nights. I took Paris for a walk with my mom. During the walk, something felt strange, but again, I didn't want to excite everyone. I can be a drama queen, so I made it a point to be calm and not make anyone think it was the real deal. I tried to text Derick to see when he'd be coming, but he didn't respond. I had the "strange feeling" again, but didn't want to say for sure my water had broken. I mean, I was totally clueless about the weird things going on with my body during the entire pregnancy, so who was I to say for sure? My mom and Derick's mom were a little excited, despite my unusually collected disposition. My mom was freaking out that the draw bridge that connects Onslow Beach to the actual mainland of Camp Lejeune might be "drawn" to let some boats pass, thus leaving me on the beach to deliver the baby. My dad failed at his attempt to reassure her by saying, "Well, I'm sure someone around here has a radio and can just call up to the guy running the bridge." My mom wanted to know who would be the one to run around the beach searching for "the guy with a radio."
Derick finally arrived, and by that time, even my calm self couldn't control the obvious enthusiasm. We scarfed down our supper. Dad got mad at me for climbing/jumping over the edge of the couch. We left one of our vehicles at the beach, and rode off into the distance. We came home and repacked the car with the same stuff, and I left some food for Paris (who was still at the camper). During this time, I was still trying to not get my hopes up. My doctor had scheduled an induction for the following Wednesday since I'd be past 41 weeks. I wasn't too worried because I knew Reeve would arrive sometime that week regardless.
We headed to the hospital anyway. This time, my wheelchair wasn't as cool as the previous one, and it took a little longer for the nurse to come fetch me from the emergency entrance. I was wheeled up, though, and much to my surprise, sweet nurse Rita was there again. They went through the same protocol. I put on the stupid pointless gown that showed the world my everything, peed in a cup, watched football, and waited. At some point, Rita's shift changed and I received two new nurses, Anna and Brittany. Brittany was a nursing student in her final semester. Both these girls looked half my age. I immediately missed Rita.
We kept our parents as updated as we could. They really couldn't tell us anything until the results from the tests came back to determine whether my water had actually broken (now I know that the correct term for what happened is "ruptured membranes.") We just kept waiting.
Finally, Anna came in...or at least I think it was Anna... anyway, someone came in and told me that my membranes had, in fact, ruptured. I was about to have a baby....at some point anyway. My mind went a little blank. Sure, I was hooked to the monitors. I could hear and somewhat see his little rapid heartbeat. I could feel him kick in my belly. I could see the excitement in Derick's eyes, but it didn't seem real. I was about to be a mom? Me?? A mom? No way. Reality slowly burrowed itself into my mind when I came out of the bathroom to see that Brittany had written "Happy Birthday Reeve!" on the dry erase board with the How Are You Feeling smileys. It was happening. This hospital bed would be my home until Reeve Roberts was in my arms. I was about to be a mom. Me. A mom.
Well, I really want to share Reeve's birth story. I've thought a lot about this, and I've come across two main dilemmas: 1) how much to share? My story isn't glitz and glamour by any means. I was NOT Beyonce, relaxing in the most elegant and peaceful manor while Reeve gently slid out of my body. Umm no. So what all should I include in my story? I don't want to get on Derick's bad side by mentioning my girl parts too much. (He does a good job changing diapers...I need to keep him happy!) 2) How am I going to find the time to sit down and write a story that long? Our boy eats frequently. I mean, FrEqUeNtLy! ---and the boy awakes!---(An hour later---) See what I mean? I guess I'm just going to type until I am called to duty elsewhere. Actually, my friend, Heather, has a really cool blog that has been a point of both reference and solace during my pregnancy/mommy journey. She had the best idea by breaking her birth story into parts. Duh, why didn't I think of this?? Anyway, I'm stealing her idea. View her hilarious and heartwarming blog here: cakeandgreenbeans.wordpress.com
Anyway, without further ado, here it is. Part one of: The Birth Story of Reeve Magnus Roberts aka Brother aka Muscle Man.
On the evening of Thursday, September 20, I was at my parents' camper at Onslow Beach here on base when I thought my water broke. (Later, I truly found out what it's like when your water breaks. Had it truly occurred at the camper, there would have been no question.) I got everyone excited (despite my deliberately calm demeanor) by saying that I might need to eventually go to the hospital that night. Derick and I hung out at the camper for a while, then headed home so that I could shower just in case we decided it was time. Nothing big happened until I tried to get out of bed to use the bathroom and nearly fell over in pain. Now that I know what an actual contraction feels like, that early pain is quite laughable. But at the time, despite everyone's insistence that I "would know" when I was having a contraction, it felt like maybe the real thing? So Derick and I loaded our bag, Reeve's bag and the car seat into the car and took off. They wheeled me in a cool wheelchair to the maternity ward (doesn't the word "ward" make you think of a crazy-person place?) I thoroughly enjoyed the wheelchair ride. I wanted to tell her I could walk, but the ride was too fun. At this point, I wasn't having any pain, so I was pretty convinced they were sending me home. The nurse, Rita, who was one of the many gems in this story, told me that she was so excited I was there. I was apparently the only person on the birthing wing, so she was thankful for some potential excitement. Too bad for her though because after several tests and a couple hours of watching TV and drinking apple juice, they determined my water was in tact. I'd just peed my pants, which I'd initially told Rita I thought might have happened. She said the pain was caused from dehydration, so she gave me a giant Onslow Memorial mug, which I love, and sent me packing. The whole packing thing bummed Derick out a little bit. He was determined to get as many days off as he possibly could, and he really didn't want to go to work the following day. But we went home, went to bed, and waited some more...
FF to Monday, September 24. I was at the camper again. My mom made a roast in the crock pot, and she was making mac and cheese and potatoes to go with it. She'd also bought a pecan pie, and my in-laws brought a coconut cake and chocolate cake. (We were really trying to persuade Reeve to get out here where the good stuff is...although it was a trick, seeing as he had a direct line to the good stuff while in my bell.) Anyway, Derick was at work, and I'd just assumed it'd be a long night for him, judging on the previous nights. I took Paris for a walk with my mom. During the walk, something felt strange, but again, I didn't want to excite everyone. I can be a drama queen, so I made it a point to be calm and not make anyone think it was the real deal. I tried to text Derick to see when he'd be coming, but he didn't respond. I had the "strange feeling" again, but didn't want to say for sure my water had broken. I mean, I was totally clueless about the weird things going on with my body during the entire pregnancy, so who was I to say for sure? My mom and Derick's mom were a little excited, despite my unusually collected disposition. My mom was freaking out that the draw bridge that connects Onslow Beach to the actual mainland of Camp Lejeune might be "drawn" to let some boats pass, thus leaving me on the beach to deliver the baby. My dad failed at his attempt to reassure her by saying, "Well, I'm sure someone around here has a radio and can just call up to the guy running the bridge." My mom wanted to know who would be the one to run around the beach searching for "the guy with a radio."
Derick finally arrived, and by that time, even my calm self couldn't control the obvious enthusiasm. We scarfed down our supper. Dad got mad at me for climbing/jumping over the edge of the couch. We left one of our vehicles at the beach, and rode off into the distance. We came home and repacked the car with the same stuff, and I left some food for Paris (who was still at the camper). During this time, I was still trying to not get my hopes up. My doctor had scheduled an induction for the following Wednesday since I'd be past 41 weeks. I wasn't too worried because I knew Reeve would arrive sometime that week regardless.
We headed to the hospital anyway. This time, my wheelchair wasn't as cool as the previous one, and it took a little longer for the nurse to come fetch me from the emergency entrance. I was wheeled up, though, and much to my surprise, sweet nurse Rita was there again. They went through the same protocol. I put on the stupid pointless gown that showed the world my everything, peed in a cup, watched football, and waited. At some point, Rita's shift changed and I received two new nurses, Anna and Brittany. Brittany was a nursing student in her final semester. Both these girls looked half my age. I immediately missed Rita.
We kept our parents as updated as we could. They really couldn't tell us anything until the results from the tests came back to determine whether my water had actually broken (now I know that the correct term for what happened is "ruptured membranes.") We just kept waiting.
Finally, Anna came in...or at least I think it was Anna... anyway, someone came in and told me that my membranes had, in fact, ruptured. I was about to have a baby....at some point anyway. My mind went a little blank. Sure, I was hooked to the monitors. I could hear and somewhat see his little rapid heartbeat. I could feel him kick in my belly. I could see the excitement in Derick's eyes, but it didn't seem real. I was about to be a mom? Me?? A mom? No way. Reality slowly burrowed itself into my mind when I came out of the bathroom to see that Brittany had written "Happy Birthday Reeve!" on the dry erase board with the How Are You Feeling smileys. It was happening. This hospital bed would be my home until Reeve Roberts was in my arms. I was about to be a mom. Me. A mom.
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