Please know this blog post is the raw and exposed me and that everything that happened was done in the best interest of me and my baby.
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Baby B boy was 1 week late. He was healthy as could be and even though there was some discomfort and I was definitely uncomfortable, I was excited that he was coming on his time. Because despite him coming on his own schedule, the contractions were coming and my body was progressing. This was working. Maybe my vbac would be something that could and would work.
So Tuesday the 17th rolled around and I was grumpy and uncomfortable and irritated at the thought of making dinner, so I ordered some pizza, salad and hot wings and remember while we were sitting there, thinking with a tinge of sadness, "Wow this could be our last meal as a family of three." We put our sweet Miss B to bed and I got a second gust of wind and decided to scotch guard our new couch. By this time I has noticed I was having some contractions here and there but wasn't timing anything. I put a wash in the washer and finished some small things around the house and finally headed to bed 10 or 11. M joked and asked me (as he did every night) to please go into labor so that he could meet his baby boy and get his "baby-cation."
By this time I was pretty sure I was in labor. I was having consistent contractions every 5-7 minutes and just felt like my body was doing something different this time around. I texted my doula who said she thought this might be it and I finally settled in around midnight to watch some TV and try and get some rest.
And around 1A was when I felt the infamous "POP!!"
I couldn't believe it. My water had broke and along with it came the biggest gushes of water EVER and the most intense contractions every 1:30-2 minutes apart. It was hard to focus on my Hypnobabies birthing plan because I just had no time for recovery and was just so mentally ALL OVER THE PLACE.
I went to wake Myka and let him know it was time, and bless his heart, he woke up and remained as calm as he could. I informed him of everything and we decided to start to getting ready to head to my Grandma's to labor and drop off Miss B. (Funny labor side note: I was one of those laboring women, who in the middle of intense contractions, stopped at the washer and insisted I needed to get the wash into the dryer before we left. Because that was clearly a priority!)
So off to grandma's we headed. I turned on my Hypnobabies tracks in the car, squeezed Myka's hand and tried to get into my zone. But it just was not happening. When we got to my grandma's, where we met my mom and doula, my contractions were still about 1:30 apart and I could barely walk from the car to the front door without stopping. I was exhausted and wanted to curl up in bed. I cried to my mom as I sat on the toilet, incoherently making jokes about nothing I can remember, as wave after wave of contraction came. At this point, I remember starting to panic a little, thinking that my contractions were so close and on top of one another...was something wrong? Was I progressing faster than I assumed? And being that we were 30 minutes or so from the hospital, I thought it might be a good idea to start to head down that way. Plus, even though it's like the worst position to be in, I wanted to lay in the bed and rest when I could. Infact, at that moment, nothing sounded better to me than sleep.
So off we headed. I got picked up in a wheelchair at the Emergency Room (and I'm pretty sure I freaked out the ladies as I moaned and groaned the entire ride to L&D) and soon was getting checked and monitored in the L&D triage. It was at this point, 1) I found out I was still only 2-3 cms and 2) I started to push with my contractions and ended up getting scolded by the nurse. I was so discouraged. My contractions were still coming so fast, essentially causing me to tense up and panic, and I was still only 2-3 cms, which is what I had been at my dr appointment on the previous Friday. I wanted and started to cry. And I think I might have started asking for another cesarean at this point, I'm not sure. Luckily Myka and my doula Kristen, were both calm and reassuring that I was doing fine, but that I needed to relax, because my tension was causing the baby to tense and his heart rate to fluctuate and have to recover after each contraction. This, of course, freaked me out even more. But slowly, I started to try and get into a rhythm. I labored on my side, in the fetal position, and every contractions, my labor team helped remind me to relax and breathe out in "O" And apparently, I was so loud, I could be heard down the entire L&D hall.
There wasn't much I could do once I got to the hospital. And I honestly, just wanted to curl up in a ball anyways. I had to be hooked up to a saline drip, so I couldn't get into the shower or bath. The baby's heartbeat was constantly dropping and he was continuously moving, so I had and preferred to be hooked up to the monitors to watch him. I just continued to labor as best I could under the circumstances. At this point, I remember thinking, this labor is NOT going the way I wanted or envisioned at all.
Around the 4A mark, I started talking to Kristen and Myka about an epidural and pain management. I didn't feel like my body was handling the labor the way I wanted/needed it to and I needed some relief. After consulting with my labor team and anesthesiologist, I ended up deciding that an epidural would help give my body and the baby a little bit of the break it needed. The anesthesiologist was amazing, answered all our questions and the epidural was so much more of a positive experience than my birth with Miss B. I was able to move, still feel all my contractions and felt like I was able to finally rest.
However within the hour of getting my epidural, I vaguely remember my blood pressure dropping and needing to go on the oxygen mask while all the nurses came into my room to get me stabilized. I remember thinking, "Why are all these people here and is everything ok?" Soon I was able to monitor my breathing and even though baby's heartbeat was still decreasing with each contraction, he was still recovering okay. Around that time I was checked and informed I was 8-9cm but that the baby was still stationed high. Since I had stalled at 4cm with Miss B and that was a goal of mine to get past this birth, I remember looking wide-eyed at Kristen and saying, "Oh my god, I did it. I'm almost there!"
Since everything was going smoothly and we had all been up for most the night, everyone started to get some rest. I got a second wind and started getting chatty with everyone, but eventually I was able to get some rest and really FEEL my labor while feeling my body relax, which I knew was the going to be one of my biggest hinderances in labor. But instead I felt every contraction and was so happy to be able to feel in control of my legs and body. By the time the nurses changed shift, between 7-8A, I had progressed to 10cm. I was excited. My body was ready to go.
Unfortunately though, the baby was still not, and he was still stationed at between a -3 & -2 station. I remember reassuring myself, that this was going to be ok, and that this birth was different than Miss B's and that he could and would come down. The nurse told me everything looked great and that instead of me trying to push, tire myself out and force him down, especially with his fluctuating heartbeat, she wanted to give him the time he needed to come down on his own. He would come. I just knew it.
They started sterilizing my room and getting ready for his birth. This was happening.
Then, everything got a little chaotic. And while the whole night is fuzzy to me, this is especially fuzzy.
Sometime in the late 9 o'clock hour, we started having a hard time finding the baby's heartbeat. He was moving around a lot and the monitors weren't able to track him the way they were supposed to. The doctor on call came in and mentioned that she wanted to feel how he was positioned and maybe see if that could have been causing him to be so high or whatever. She checked me and mentioned that she thought the baby was having a hard time coming down into my pelvis and that he was facing and looking towards my right. I'm not sure what the timing was after and between all this, but because his heart was decreasing, she mentioned putting a internal monitor on him to monitor his heart rate. And this is where shit hit the fan.
Once the internal monitor was placed on his head, apparently the little guy was not a fan, and his heart rate dropped. I remember hearing 90s, 80s, 70s, 100s. Whatever it was, his heartbeat was not recovering to where it should have been. Nurses started rushing in. Everyone started getting nervous. The doctor mentioned that his heartbeat had been down for about 5-7 minutes and that they needed to get him out ASAP. I immediately started shaking and crying. Myka was flustered and trying to get suited up for surgery. Kristen and my mom consoled me and reassured me that I had done everything I could and that this was going to be ok. And honestly, I WAS ok with it. What I wasn't ok with, was jeopardizing my baby's health so much to need a emergency c-section. This was not okay to me.
In the midst of my tears, Myka kept asking for scrubs to get suited for surgery. And as he left to finally get dressed, they started rushing me through the halls to the OR to get the baby out. Once in the OR, everything was chaos. People were yelling at one another. The screen was put up to block my view. The doctor was snapping about the baby's heart rate and arguing with the anesthesiologist. The anesthesiologist was trying to get the spinal block in as fast as he could via my epidural, which did NOT work. He kept telling the doctor that he needed about 5-10 more minutes. And this is when I began to feel the doctor prep my stomach and proceed to cut into my abdomen to get my son out while I screamed. And all the while, Myka was nowhere to be found. They had left him in our L&D suite.
I cannot even begin to express the feelings and emotions I felt. The anesthesiologist started yelling at the doctor that I could feel everything and that he was going to need to put me under general anesthesia. My hands started to move to instinctively push away the doctors as they continued to cut. The nurses who were at my head began to console me the best they could and squeezed my hands through the pain while I screamed and cried, my entire body shaking. Where was Myka? What was happening?? Why was this happening to me??
The last thing I remember, is the mask coming over my face, the anesthesiologist telling me to breathe and that it would be alright. And lastly, as I closed my eyes to sleep, I dreamt of a field of flowers and my Poppy.
to be continued...
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