8 Short Years Ago

This is reposted from a journal I was writing in at the time, word for word. 

Well, he’s here, he’s gorgeous and I’m in love.  He was born on Wednesday the 10th at 5:22am.  And I had a c-section!  Of all the things, I never expected an emergency c-section.  Poor Kile couldn’t even be there to comfort me (not that I was even conscious) , but he also couldn’t witness the birth of his son.  Neither did I.  That’s still kind of sad.  Something I do regret.  Well, let me tell the story.

It starts on Tuesday the 9th with my doctor appointment.  They found some protein in my urine and my blood pressure was still a bit high.  Not too bad though so I wasn’t worried.  They took some blood to test, just in case.  My doctor examined me and I was 3 centimeters, 50% effaced and the baby’s head was right there.  I’d made progress!

I didn’t give it much thought the rest of the day.  I had another appointment the next morning to go over the results of the blood test.  I spent the afternoon with my friend.  She thought I was being pretty cranky but I insist that I was refining my snark.

Kile and I had just dug into our TV dinners that night when the doctor called.  She’d gotten the test results and the level of uric acid was elevated.  That normally indicates the beginnings of renal failure, gout or preeclampsia.  Guess which one I was?  We knew it wasn’t the first two.  She told us to meet her at the hospital for a non-stress test.

We put our bags in the car (thank god they were packed) and went on our way.  I was sure we’d be coming back home that night.

We got to the hospital and got into a room.  It was about 7:45 so we got settled and then watched “Buffy” on the TV while I was hooked up to some external monitors.  At 8:30, my doctor and her colleague came by.  They checked me and I was still 3 centimeters.  They were also checking how ready my cervix was towards being induced.  They decided to ahead with it and we started making our phone calls.

Around 9pm, I got an IV.  The first one got messed up and my nurse had to do it again.  It hurt pretty bad!  I got fluids and pitocin.  My friend came by to visit and the three of us hung out and watched TV or a few hours.  The contractions didn’t hurt, were basically just strong Braxton-Hicks.  About 12:30, Jenn left and my doctor checked me again.  I was 4 centimeters this time.  They wouldn’t give me any medication, but then I wasn’t in any pain.  Yet.

Around ten to one, Kile and I decided to try to nap a little before it started hurting.  Kile slept, but I was too interested in watching the contraction monitor.  At 1:45, it really started to hurt all of a sudden.  And it hurt BAD.  Kile got up and tried to help me breathe through the contractions.  That was about a joke and didn’t work very well.  It only made my mouth and throat dry.  I couldn’t relax at all in between contractions and they were coming so fast.  I was shivering and shaking uncontrollably.  the pain was so bad, they finally gave me a shot of stadol around 2:15am.  That helped me to relax, almost sleep, in between contractions.  They still hurt, but it was almost as if I didn’t care.

Around 3:30, the contractions started getting really bad again and the stadol was wearing off.  I felt terrible and even threw up.  My doctor checked me again and I was 5 centimeters.  He asked if I wanted an epidural.  Of course!  The anesthesiologist showed up close to 4 am and started to get to work.  It took him a little over a half hour to get the epidural all set up.  Meanwhile, I was in agony.  The contractions really hurt and were really close together.   I was still trying to do breathing, the epidural didn’t seem to be working.  I couldn’t believe how much it all hurt.  I was very annoyed with the anesthesiologist for taking so long and for not making to work right.

My doctor checked me again and I was at 10 centimeters already!  Go figure!  I was ready to push so they turned off that pathetic excuse for an epidural.  I remember a ton of people in the room, some holding my legs even.  I remember Kile was holding my right leg back and new nurse holding my left.  I saw the bassinet and instrument table all set up.  I tried my best to push but the baby wouldn’t come out.  They tried vacuum extraction and his head would crown but then he would slip back up to +1 station.  Finally, around am, they decided to go for a c-section.  For some reason, they couldn’t do an epidural for it, since the previous one hadn’t worked and time was of the essence.  So it would be under general anesthesia.  At that point though, I really didn’t care.  I was still having horrible contractions and these were pushing contractions.  I just wanted the pain to be over.  I was exhausted.  Kile gave the doctors the okay and they gave me an antacid for my stomach so I wouldn’t get sick.  I felt like a weak kitten.

They wheeled my bed into an operating room and I was moved onto an operating table.  There were about a million people in the room, buzzing around.  They put a screen up (??) and gave me a new IV.  I guess they didn’t like the old one.  Meanwhile, I was still having contractions.  They told me I was going to be put under soon.  It took a while, but soon I was out.

I woke up in a long room.  There were two nurses there, buzzing around and talking.  I was very disoriented and my throat really hurt.  I was shivering and shaking so a nurse put a warmed blanket on me.  I think I kept dozing and waking again.  Before long, my doctor came in.  She was a sight for sore eyes.  She was very gentle as she talked to me and checked me out.  Kile came in and held my hand.  I was very curious about the baby (naturally!) so I asked him.  Kile said he was find and in the nursery.  He’d seen and held him already.  He looked good.  I wished I could see him.  Kile had to leave and I’m not sure how long I was in there until they moved me.  That was about at 7:30 or so.  I don’t recall it very well.  They were giving me shots of Demerol for pain.  I really wanted to see Harry.

Finally, about 10:00am, when I was settled into my postpartum room, they brought him in from the nursery.  I put him to my breast but he didn’t do much besides snuggle.  He was gorgeous.  He had to be the best looking newborn I’d ever seen.  I fell in love at first sight.  But it wasn’t long until the nurse took his temperature and it was a bit low so they took him back to the nursery to sit under the warmer.  I was disappointed to see him go.  I was still having a hard time believing it all.

Well, to make a long story short (is it too late?), Harry had some episodes in the nursery where he had trouble breathing.  He was sent to the Intensive Care Nursery and didn’t have any more episodes there, but he did develop some pretty gnarly jaundice.  He couldn’t come to me anymore, so I had to make myself get out of bed and into a wheelchair and down to the ICN to see him.  He continued to do well, except for the jaundice.  We started nursing the next day and he took real well to that.  He’s the best baby and I just love him to death.

So that’s it.  8 years ago this morning, Harry was born.  We just brought him breakfast in bed (chocolate chip pancakes, orange juice and bacon!) and later on, he’s going to the planetarium with some friends.  Happy Birthday, big guy.  I still can’t believe it’s been EIGHT YEARS.