Friday, October 3, 2014

Longest Labor, Biggest Baby To Date!

Now that the chaos has died down somewhat and I can sit down by myself and type for a while, I can fill you in on my last delivery before the baby-centered portion of my world becomes much, much more personal.

Last Thursday I sat at my desk at work, casually timing my contractions. They were coming at four to six minute intervals and while they were not “STFU contractions,” they were enough so that I was definitely not smiling. As I posted previously, I called the Big Hospital and was advised that it might not be a bad idea to come up and get checked out. I told them I would come in if they continued after the hour-ish drive home. They did, but I decided to try stopping at home and laying on my left side after a long drink of water. One of the tests to see if labor is real or not is to attempt this. If the contractions go away, then it's not real labor. If they don't, then it's probably time to check in. Well, they went away, but the doctors wanted me to stay close to the hospital on Friday just to make sure things didn't pick back up again.

Monday as I mentioned, we had our OB appointment and Dr. Colorful tentatively scheduled us for induction on Tuesday. I decided to go to work, since I had attended a work-related conference one town north of home on Monday anyway, and nothing had been set off. Besides, I was told that if I was to go in early on Tuesday morning, I'd get a call around 6:30 am. I didn't, so I went to work and followed the secondary protocol: Check in by 9:00 am if no one had called me. They hadn't, so I called and was told that they might be able to squeeze me in later, so I should call back around 1:00 pm. That call met with success. I was to head up to the hospital right then to be induced.

I texted Mum to let her know that she and Dad should meet me at the Big Hospital at 2:30 to begin the process. We even made it into a room and I got changed and hopped onto the bed before the nurse came in apologizing profusely, but asking us if we'd be willing to come back Wednesday, because three laboring mothers were inbound and space was still kind of tight. Disappointed, Mum and Dad agreed, so I got dressed and we headed out for the night.

At 6:45 Wednesday morning, Mum texted me to ask if I'd heard from the hospital yet. I blearily replied that the Labor & Delivery ward was only fifteen minutes late calling, but to double check I called my voicemail at work and checked to make sure they hadn't tried calling me at the wrong number. While on that call, I got a voicemail from Labor & Delivery on my cell, telling me to call them back. Of course what they meant was, “go ahead and have breakfast, get a shower and come in.” Mum and Dad were informed and I promised to text them when I headed out.

By 8:30 am, I was gown-clad and hooked up to fetal and contraction monitors, and the nurses were introducing themselves and talking us through the early stages of the induction process. Three attempts at my veins finally got an IV into my hand and saline and penicillin were on their way into my bloodstream. Can I just tell you: Penicillin BURNS. Thankfully, increasing the saline drip dilutes it so it doesn't bother, but holy mackerel! OW! Pitocin followed shortly thereafter and early labor was on its way.

At Hubs' suggestion, I asked to see an anesthesiologist early on to get an epidural started before labor got really difficult. Hubs seemed to think that doing it while I'm not bellowing and clawing at people would make it more effective. It took several hours of having our nurses pester the docs, but after two c-sections, one of them was finally free to come in and stick a needle and catheter into my back. Ladies and gentlemen: Hubs was right. Turns out that when you get the epidural after active labor begins, the medicine can't keep up with the contractions, so you wind up not getting relief.

Once the penicillin drip was complete, one of the doctors who'd delivered Tempest came in and broke my water. Not much happened, to be honest. We all kind of expected the same tsunami as before, but no one worried much that it didn't all come at once. I wasn't feeling any pain, and so I was perfectly happy to let labor progress as it would.

Except that hours and hours later, I wasn't progressing at six centimeters dilation. Nugget was tolerating labor just fine – heart rate and movement were healthy, but I was starting to get frustrated; and Mum was all but pacing from excitement and anticipation. Another cervical check showed that there was a “forebag” of amniotic fluid preventing Nugget from coming down any further. That bag was ruptured, and again some fluid came with, along with a healthy dose of bloody show, and the doctor left, content that this would encourage more progress.

It didn't. Two hours later, I was still at six centimeters and guess what? Yet another forebag presented itself. This one ruptured but-good, and the aforementioned tsunami emerged and then some. By this point the epidural wasn't giving me 100% relief, but it was still taking a lot of the edge off. At this point, I had figured out that I had yet to really relax my pelvic muscles – a major no-no in birthing. In previous experiences, I'd felt the contractions, so it reminded me to breathe, keep my jaw loose and my “bottom” relaxed. Now I was able to hum through the contractions while Mum, Dad and our third nurse (we had gone through two other shifts by that point) fiddled around with a birthing ball, then a birthing ball trying to help me find a position I liked. My idea was that if I sat up as I had with Tempest, we could try to use gravity and the pressure of my upper body to encourage Nugget to come down more and faster; thus dilating me better. I soaked through a practical regiment of “chux pads” (the ones that are quilted on one side, and plastic on the other, to protect sheets from bodily fluids) as amniotic fluid continued to surge out with every contraction. This did work. At my next cervical check, I was at nine centimeters.

Except I stayed there through three more checks. We turned me over – yes, I had enough epidural going to make fine motor control in my left leg all but impossible - and I knelt on the bed, leaning against the head, which had been raised up fully. The intent here was to keep my pelvic muscles relaxed and encourage Nugget's head to push that last little lip of cervix out of the way. It didn't work; it just made my legs tired and wobbly. It was then decided that I might have better luck laying on my right side. At least that way we could maybe encourage the epidural to do more work on the side that was no longer getting the same relief as my left.

This didn't have quite the effect we intended it to, at first. Over the course of the second and third trimesters this pregnancy, if I ate within three hours of bedtime, Nugget would protest and make me throw up whatever I had eaten and then some. These last few weeks, I wasn't able to eat much past 2:00 pm most days. I had eaten a few bites of fruit and granola parfait from a local breakfast shop, and had a few sips of orange juice as my breakfast. Lunch and dinner were long over, but I'd swallowed a decent amount of water, apple juice and gingerale; and had been allowed a grape popsicle, which I couldn't finish. I'd thrown up a little bit, earlier, but apparently not enough. I let it all go.

The next thing I knew, I felt Nugget's head slip past my cervix and begin the journey down my birth canal. I had been warned earlier that Dr. Colorful, who was now on duty, was slow to arrive for deliveries, so I tried to give as much notice as I could. I told my nurse, “The baby just made its way down past my cervix. Pushing is imminent. You'll want to get the doctor now.”
The residents, pediatrician and other nurses made their way into the room and suited up, as they had already prepared a cart for delivery.

By the time the medical staff's gloves were on, I was actually trying to hold Nugget back. No pushing was necessary. In fact, one of the residents had to put her hand between my lefts to STOP Nugget from just sliding out. I kid you not folks, I did not push AT ALL to get Nugget to this point.

I was told several times that we all really needed to wait for Dr. Colorful to arrive, but frankly it's not comfortable having a baby's head crowning and just sitting there. I asked several times if we could please just deliver the baby. Both residents were properly trained, and I'm fairly certain that both had attended Tempest's birth as well. Finally, they assented, as Colorful was nowhere to be found.

Two grunts later – I say grunts because they really weren't pushes, Nugget's head and shoulders were out and the doctors were declaring the baby a boy. I wish I had a camera to show you Mum and Dad's faces – Mum's jaw was on the floor, but the rest of her face was awash with emotion. Dad's face, however, was just a mask of flabbergast. It was downright hilarious. On top of that, Colorful showed up after Mum and Dad cut the baby's umbilical cord and the nurses helped wrap Mum and baby up, skin-to-skin. I laughed at him and declared, “You're late! You totally missed the whole thing!”

Folks, we had all expected a bellowing, screaming, clawing, chaotic mess, but through seventeen hours of labor, all anyone got was a little humming, a lot of breathing and a few grunts. We had four fantastic nurses, five great doctors and a top-notch anesthesiologist. I couldn't have asked for better.

I'm sure by now plenty of you magnificent readers are looking for all the stats on baby Nugget. I shall now therefore oblige. Nugget's real name (with Mum's permission) is Hudson. He was born at 2:28 am on Thursday, October 2, 2014. He weighed in at 9 pounds, 6 ounces and measured 21 inches long. As soon as the doctors set him on the bed between my legs for cord-cutting, he let out a good, strong bellow and apparently I missed that all of the attending nurses were in tears, right along with Mum. I'm told this is very rare. And yes, I am pumping breast milk for Hudson for at least three months.

As for me, I'm sore. Incredibly sore. I guess it comes with the territory if an almost nine and a half pound baby is going to just slide out of me. I also probably shouldn't have agreed to a flu shot, twelve hours postpartum, but I figured that the maternity nurses wouldn't have offered it to me if it were going to cause problems, right? Oh well. That's what ibuprofen, ice packs and hot packs are for.

Hubs and I are definitely, DEFINITELY going to try to get pregnant for ourselves next, and then if the timing works out for Mum and Dad, we'll work with them again to give them a second child. I learned from several of the nurses, during labor, that my hope of having a home birth for my next baby is not a great idea. Because I have a tendency to hemorrhage and clot quickly after delivery, and because I'm technically considered to be of advanced maternal age, home birth is not optimal. Now, we did discuss the possibility that these nurses might simply have a bias against home birth, but they were able to say and prove, through knowing and having worked as backups for a few local home birth midwives, that this wasn't the case. I may still have an honest chat with one or two of these midwives to see what they have to say about my bleeding issues, but I have a suspicion that they'll also declare me to be a poor candidate for home birth. I think I can live with this. The nurse-midwives at The Big Hospital have a good reputation, and to be honest I have enjoyed my experiences with the doctors at that hospital anyway.


I think that's all for now, folks. Stay tuned – I'll keep you posted on my own progress with my next baby, I promise!

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