Stella’s Arrival, part one: Labor and Delivery

Baby Stella turned four weeks old today, so sadly my chance to relay these facts with a fresh memory has passed.  But, these past four weeks have been busy, to say the least.

On Tuesday August 7th, I went for a follow-up visit to my OB.  I knew that she’d be pushing me to schedule an induction, as it had already been brought up a week earlier.  I was trying my best to avoid the pitocin and a scheduled birth, but I knew that I’d put up all the fight that I had in me.  They did a quick assessment of the baby (including using a stimulator to wake her up inside me) while a nurse booked my appointment.  She came back and handed me a slip of paper with a number to call to confirm my induction for that Wednesday at midnight.

I proceeded to walk, climb stairs, do laundry, eat spicy food, and have S. give me foot rubs in hopes of labor inducing magic. But no go.  S. and I went to one of our fav little restaurants for burgers so that I could eat a big meal before I wasn’t allowed to eat.  As we took the check our server told us to “have fun tonight”.  If only he knew.  We went home to nap.  Unable to sleep, I played Words With Friends and checked on the Olympic results, knowing I was going to miss the US airings.  Midnight came and it was finally time.

I got checked in, put on a gown and tried to relax.  The hospital had little nature videos to listen to while you tried to rest, so i put them on and slept.  My doula sat in the rocker while S, paced the floor.  He was feeling sick, covering himself in the yoga blanket I’d packed.  He blamed it on the bacon and egg burger he’d had earlier, but didn’t seem to realize that it must have been his nerves, the immensity of the situation that wasn’t sitting well.  At 2am they started my pitocin drip and I dozed on and off, checking the clock as they increased my doses hourly.  Come morning I walked the halls eating grape popsicles, S. pushing my IV pole.  I felt great.  One doctor commented that I looked too happy to be in labor.

That’s because I wasn’t.  Not until much later.  Sometime after noon, in the midst of my dad trying to visit and doctors coming to give me a spiel about our daughters Tetralogy labor kicked in.  I was in the bed, feeling a bit sickly, and I asked S. to climb in with me.  He did, but a moment later I had to get up.  I had a terrible need to go to the bathroom, so I wheeled my pole in and squatted, but nothing seemed to help.  I went back into the room and as I was washing my hands I felt a terrible pressure, causing me to lean against the sink.  I was hunched down when I saw a splatter of water across my gold flip-flops.  “So that’s what it’s like to have your water break”, I thought.  That’s when it kicked off.  There would be no more walking, no more popsicles.  I couldn’t sit, stand or lie down.  I tried sitting on the ball.  Rocking in a chair.  There was no start or stop to the contractions–just a pressure that if I was forced to describe would be a combination of having to make the largest bowl movement of your life while someone shot you in the intestines.

I attempted natural labor for a while longer (how long exactly is unclear to me now) but it was terrible.  I asked the nurse for an epidural.  She suggested they check to see how far dilated I was, so I complied, but told myself that unless I was 9 cm or more, I wanted the epidural.  The exam revealed me to be 6 cm, just 2 cm more than I’d walked in at, (and had been for several weeks).  I flatly asked for the epidural.  I sat quivering at the edge of my bed, leaning into a nursing student, trying to stay still through a contraction as they did the spinal.  A few moments later, I was back in bed, asleep.

I don’t remember much more, except that a nurse came in and woke me, asking if I felt like pushing.  Yes.  Yes, I did.  I rolled onto my back and began the process of bearing down a bit, just lightly still because there were no doctors or anyone coaching me at that point.  Sometime later, I began to shake.  My legs, my body, feeling a combination of fatigue and endorphins.  My doula leaned down toward me, “Do you know what this means” she whispered.  “You’re transitioning.”  I’d read about this, just enough to know that this meant she’d be here soon.

An intern performed perineal massage while I worked out a breathing rhythm with my team.  Doula on my left, S. on the right, they held my legs, helping me to push to the count of ten, three times, over and over.  My yoga experience with focused breathing kicked in.  I thought back to my days in roller derby when my mantra was, “you can do anything for five minutes”, ten minutes…however many minutes this would take.  Each time I pushed, I grabbed the undersides of my thighs and pushed like it was the last push. I was in a haze when I noticed that S. was putting on blue surgical scrubs, and I knew we were close. I was wheeled into the OR where a NICU and cardio team was waiting for Stella.  I continued my pushing, trying to feel around for the hair that everyone was saying was appearing.  I could feel her moving downwards, a two steps forward, one step back dance with this little being descending through my pelvis.  When I could finally feel the hair, I exclaimed, “It’s like a puppy!”  Any moment now, I was sure.  Three more pushes.  Three more pushes.  Then someone asked me for a fourth push, and I knew this was it.  I felt the slippery release of pressure and exhaled.  She was here.

I saw her little gray form as she was swooped into the exam area, S. following the docs.  The doula and I were in awe.  I smiled through embarrassingly loud cries of joy.  Placenta passed and I was just listening for her tiny cries as they filled the air.  Moments later, they brought her to me and I saw the dewy eyes that I immediately recognized as being like my husband’s.  I don’t remember what I said to her, but I’ll never forget the way she looked toward my face, recognizing the sound of my voice near her ear.

I tried to ignore the cardiologist that had to come take her away a few minutes later, (I don’t envy the intern that has to take the newborn cub from the lioness)  handed her over knowing that S. could go up to NICU with her.  I was taken back to my room, made my phone calls to annouce her arrival, ordered some room service, and waited while the epidural wore off so that I could go see her.  It was about 2 hours later when S. came back for me and wheeled me to her.  We took turns snuggling her to our chests, taking in the details of her tiny face, noticing her tiny fingernails and thin lips.  I recognized the tiny hands with the thick palms, the button nose.  She was finally here.

41 weeks: Who knew?

If you’d have ever asked me if I would still be pregnant on 8/8 I’d have said no way. Not a chance.  I’ve always been sure I’d go early.  Then when they told me I was 4 cm dilated 3 weeks ago, they said I could go at anytime. Yet,  here I am, doing my nails so that they look cute when I get induced tonight.

It’s been a really rough week…the most emotional due to pregnancy for sure.  Last week my dr. told me that they wanted to induce me then, but I stalled for a week, hoping baby would come on her own.  No go.  Now, I’ve likely passed the window to avoid pitocin so I’ll be getting a chemically altered birth.  Not thrilling.  Furthermore, I’m getting induced at midnight tonight so I’ll be tired and run down before I even start pushing.  Not thrilled about that either.  As much as this week has been hot, hormonal and disappointing, I’m just trying to focus on getting my baby.  Hopefully, by this time tomorrow, I’ll be holding our daughter.

One highlight in all of this: my yoga.  I’ve attended 9 pre-natal yoga classes and at this last one I had a real epiphany about my approach to the labor.  Instead of feeling contractions, I want to feel openness.  During a breathing exercise I had a braxton-hicks contraction and felt like a lotus flower opening in my belly.  It was remarkable.  I wept openly when I told the teacher how grateful I’d been for this class.  I only hope I can keep that focus and openness tonight/tomorrow as I labor.

 

 

27 weeks

Ok, I’m not sure how nearly 2 months has passed, but it’s been a rough 2 months, so we’ll let it go and start anew.

Baby Stella (because that’s your name now), you’re getting very big!  At your 26 week ultrasound you weighed 1 lb 13 Oz.  You kick me hard now, hard enough that I can see where you’re kicking and so can your daddy.  Today we had a visit with your cardiologist to get a fetal echo and you were kicking the ultrasound wand.  You kick my lap desk when I work.  You kick when I’m trying to fall asleep and every morning when I wake up, you’re popping off fireworks.  You don’t seem to like it when I roll over–it seems to make you do stuff.

Speaking of other stuff you don’t like: you do not like to cooperate for your ultrasounds.  Last weeks ultrasound, you were facing backwards, so they couldn’t get a good look at you.  Today, you kept moving, so it took 90 minutes to get your echo done.  Little stinker.  But, your dad and I both think that it’s a sign that you’re smart–you’re responsive when there’s stimulus.

How is pregnancy?  Well, I’ve just entered 7th month and 3rd trimester.  I’m still small, by most people’s opinions.  A waitress offered me alcohol today, so I think that people aren’t just being nice–I think you’re just a tight little package.

I definitely hit a rut for a while, bogged down in school and depressed because I can’t move around like I used to.  But, last week I went for my first prenatal yoga class, and loved it! I’ve always been pro-yoga, but it was amazing how great it felt to get stretched out and relax.  I will be continuing this.  Hopefully, I can find some good water-robics classes or something.  I’m a whiner when it comes to my feet hurting, and since it jumped into the high 80’s and I’m swelling up, I can’t bring myself to do walks very much.

We’ve started clearing out the room that will be yours.  We’ve got the crib and some little outfits, but we’re still shopping and registering for things like cloth diapers and all of those necessities.  Fortunately, I’m graduating with my bachelors degree next week, so I’ll have some time this summer to get caught up and get ready.

We still don’t know when you’ll need your first open heart surgery, but your dr. seems to think there’s a 50/50 chance you’ll need one as a newborn.  It’s possible that you’ll need 2 total in the first year, but also possible that they’ll just repair your heart with the newborn surgery…too soon to tell.  My only hope is that you don’t have to undergo more than one surgery, but whatever it takes–I know you won’t remember any of it, so that’s a comfort.

 

Surrogates: A One-and-a-half Woman Monologue

The following is a monologue I wrote for my non-fiction writing course:

Surrogates

I was about fourteen weeks along when I realized that I hadn’t told very many people that I was pregnant. Starting to show, and not wanting people to just think I’d let myself go, I still couldn’t bring it up. I thought of it as on a need to know basis, despite the fact that the big risk of miscarriage had passed. A friend then told a bunch of our mutual friends when she was only 6 weeks. They were all thrilled for her. Then I felt like I was stealing her thunder, so I waited even longer.

What’s weirder still is that I thrive on being the center of attention. There I was, at the attention gleaning opportunity of a lifetime and we’d told no more than three people.

I started to wonder, why hadn’t I told anyone. Was I not happy? That wasn’t it. I was ecstatic. Following doula bloggers and researching the baby slings and debating which handsewn stuffed animal my baby would like more, the fox or the raccoon. I’d started crocheting a baby blanket in white months before I’d ever gotten pregnant.

So why not tell anyone? Why not let them be happy with me.

Because it seemed like no one was. I’d called my mom on Skype, so that I’d be able to see the reaction of the first person I told. We chatted a while about the new year and I told her she was going to get to be a grandma. I thought she seemed happy, so I said something like, “I figured you might have been wondering when this might happen.”

“Well, you didn’t have to do this for me.” She told me. I sat there a minute, watching as her gaze drifted off screen. “You’re not doing me any favors.”

But, my mom has never really been one to like kids, unless maybe it’s some cute kid that said something funny on Jay Leno. This didn’t come really as a surprise. I mean, who knows better that someone doesn’t really like kids than her own kid, right?

I didn’t tell anyone else for close to two whole months after that. Not even when I had morning sickness around the clock. Not even when I was having heart palpitations every day. Not even after my doctor walked out in the middle of my first check-up because she thought I’d had a miscarriage. Not even, three days before Christmas, when my ultrasound doctor told me to come back in seven to nine days if I hadn’t had a miscarriage. Instead of gifting grandparents with surprise children’s books or bibs, I sat and opened gift cards, clenching my legs together, as if that might be able to stop what seemed to be inevitable.

I focused on that little being I’d seen on the monitor. Something my husband and I said looked like one of those candy circus peanuts. We said we’d be ok to tell people after the next ultrasound came back ok. Then they said that the baby’s heart had been just fine all along, but, I still couldn’t tell anyone. I just hung out. Pretending like I just felt a little down, or was fighting a cold.

It wasn’t until I told my dad and his wife that I started to be ok again. We went to breakfast, the four of us, one of those breakfast places that has omelets and gyros on the same menu. I sat in the booth and was speechless when Julie guessed that I was pregnant before I even had to tell her. Instead of surprising them, they surprised me. My dad was beaming and I had to look away when I saw the tears in his eyes. But I couldn’t shake the fact that she’d guessed it. She said she’d had a dream that I was pregnant, that she’d already thought about telling her brothers that she was going finally to be a grandma. There was no way she could have known. I was dumbstruck. I just kept asking, “how did you know”. Not just suspected, but been so sure that she’d want to tell people.

“Sometimes, a mother just knows.”

I was glad my dad was excited. But, that was the first time I’d felt like I had a mother in years.

My next reveal was my roller derby team. If you’ve ever watched any of the media reports on Roller Derby, you always hear about how derby is played by moms, women that tuck their kids into bed and then sneak out to strap on skates and be badasses. But, my team happens to be the exception. I happened to be on a team with mostly childless women. And by childless, I mean the kind that made fun of other girls that had to miss the after-parties when the sitter backed out. The kind that celebrated on Facebook when their husbands finally got vasectomies. I was dreading the tell. It felt to me to be the equivalent of telling your baptist congregation that you’re gay. I was about to be excommunicated.

We were all together at a basement party, me with pineapple juice to pass as a cocktail, and for a second, I thought about not saying anything. But then, I’d have to tell more people one on one, which seemed harder. I held up my plastic beer mug. “I’m not drinking.”

I’d braced myself, but I actually flinched at the sounds of the shrieks. Jump-off-your-bar-stool and spill-your-beer shrieks. Everyone ran over and hugged me. There was a circle around me, coo’ing, looking at my belly. The child-haters, as it turned out, seemed to hate every child but mine.

Now, when they see me, they say, “hey mama”, ask how I’m feeling and tell me about the prenatal yoga class at their studio. They’re throwing me a baby shower with my team theme, anchors and sailors. They show me cute fabrics with little jellyfish on them, because they know I’ll like it, in case I want them to help me make curtains.

The day after I told my team, my heart palpations stopped.

I once knew a woman who told her grandma about her exciting news, only to hear, “don’t worry about it too much. You may still miscarry.” Sometimes, you just have to know that your family is going to let you down, even though they think they’re keeping you up. It’s not just my family or your family. I mean, everyone’s family has that streak to it.

Lots of other parents are going say stuff to try to scare you, even though you’re already pregnant. Especially when you’re already pregnant. People ask if you’re supposed to be drinking that coffee (even though it happens to be decaf). Then some co-worker will assure you that you won’t be less of a woman, just because you get an epidural, even though they didn’t have pain management when she had her boys. How, just wait, you think it’s bad now. Your kid will never sleep. You’ll never sleep. You’ll never have sex again. Your house is going to be trashed and it’s going to be 18 years before you take a vacation that’s not to Disney.

I’m not going to tell you any of that. Chances are, someone already did. And it didn’t help. And it’s probably not even true, but what do I know. What I’m going to tell you is that you’ve got to find your family—no matter who they are. If your aunt won’t talk to you because you got pregnant before her daughter did, then you don’t have to talk to her. If your mother-in-law thinks you just did this to and keep her son from going to medical school, tough shit. If your mom just wants to be called “Darlene” instead of “Nana”, oh well. Find someone else to be “Nana”.

Chances are, your kid will end up with more surrogate Nanas that way. Your kid can never have too many Nanas.

First Trimester Wrap Up

My current fav. mommy blogger, Jen Renee did a nice post today on the idea of taking a moment to recognize the awesomeness of pregnancy, or as she puts it, “Just to make sure I’m taking the time to remember this experience. To internalize and process how incredibly cool it all is.”

I’ve been thinking lately that I need to document more about the oddest parts of pregnancy so far.  The little things.  Baby, you should know you’ve resulted in the following:

• Last night I had to tell your daddy to wash the lotion off of his hands, because the smell was enough to make me want to cry or throw up.  Though technically unscented, I described it as the smell of some fatty remains that had been eaten by an animal and then vomited back up.
• The other biggest smell trigger is  the smell of your future roller derby aunties.  You’ll understand what I mean later.  You’ll be growing up with that smell.
• I think you can sort of hear me now, and maybe know when I’m poking at you.  Sometimes I “tickle” you, or tell you what we’re about to go do.  I figure you’re in on whatever I do, so you might as well know the plan, even if there’s a good chance it just involves a trip to the bathroom.
• I’ve started to show and I kind of like it.  Sometimes I walk past a mirror and I’m surprised by how much belly is there for a 3 inch long teenie-weenie.  You’re small for a baby, but when you get here, you’ll still be small.
• We told your dad’s parents about you last weekend.  They were so excited, they pushed your dad out of the way to get at me for a hug.  (Poor dad.) They are gonna LOVE you!
• This weekend, we’re telling my dad about you.  I’m actually pretty nervous about this.  I’m never comfortable with seeing your grandpa cry.
• I’ve only thrown up twice, but somethings are still odd to me.  Salty flavors and chocolate nauseate me terribly.  Caffeinated coffee also gives me terrible heart flutters, which is a bummer, because I’d like just a little of it now and again to help me get over how tired I am.
• Right now, our name ideas are Stella (after your dad’s grandma) if you’re a girl, and if you’re a boy, you’ll take your dad’s name.  My hunch is that you’re a boy (dad agrees) but there are certainly days where I can imagine you’re a girl.  We’ll find out in another 2 months, fingers crossed.
• I’ve started making things for your nursery–I’m planning a woodland theme.  I’m determined to make it mostly gender neutral. The idea came from a batch of forest animal embroidery patterns I got.

More to come, teenie-weenie.

Mi Corazon: weeks 7-11 recap

I know I’ve been an absentee blogger, but frankly, I didn’t have it in me to share what I’ve been enduring the past few weeks.

Let’s recap, as best as I can, in short:

Mr. and I were more than excited about getting to tell our families about the baby at Christmas.  We planned to go to our first checkup on 12/21, then go shopping for baby books that would serve as surprise gifts for the grandparents.  We went into the doctors on 12/21 and all seemed good (got a new estimated due date of 8/1) and we were feeling good until I told the doctor about the bleeding that I’d had about 3 weeks earlier.  At that point in the visit, the tone changed drastically.  She was referring us to a “viability” ultrasound, saying the word viability as though I shouldn’t take it to mean anything less than ‘checking for dead baby’ ultrasound.  The doctor put her hand on my knee and told me that many of us lose babies for a number of reasons, many times we don’t even know that we’re pregnant…so on…none of which sounds as though she believes there is anything left in my uterus.   We put on our coats, got in the car, and tried to wait out the 18  hours until the ultrasound appt.  Mr. took me for dinner, hoping it would put the anxiety out of my mind, and all I can remember is chewing a bite of steak while thinking “I didn’t really want to be pregnant anyway”.  This is the coping mechanism one’s brain creates when one is told her baby might be gone, weeks gone.

Next morning, I’m in a dark exam room, holding my husband’s hand, and I watch up on the screen where I can see a figure–perhaps something the shape of a candy circus peanut.  It’s floating around, and I see a fluttery movement in it’s midsection.  Wow–see, I can actually see it’s heartbeat.  Except, there’s a “concern” (“if you want to call it that”, says the tech) that the heart rate is irregular.  Not weak, but that it skips a few beats occasionally. The doctor comes and takes a look, says that it could be a problem, but it’s really too early to say.  Sometimes, the heart rate is irregular right before a miscarriage, they tell us.  The doctor says his daughter in law had a similar situation, (meaning right before she lost her baby).  We’re asked to go home, wait, go to the hospital if there is any heavy bleeding, and if not, come back in 7-10 days.

All that means is that I got to go home, sit through a holiday weekend with family, waiting for a miscarriage.  No big reveals, no joyous  holiday–sitting, silent, waiting.

Fast forward through a week of waiting, analyzing each and every cramp or twinge,  (each day I’m feeling more positive for just not having had any miscarriage symptoms) and another ultrasound.  The heart rate is good, the doctor says.  The risk of miscarriage after week 10 is about 1.5%, and will decrease to about 0.5% after week 12.  With good numbers, a healthy looking baby that’s grown a good deal in 8 days (now looking less like a circus peanut) we can relax.  We go to breakfast, laugh about our baby’s ‘crown and rump” measurement, and enjoy the first break in anxiety we’ve had so far.  I joke that the baby probably had the hiccups in the last ultrasound.

Today, two weeks later, I’m about to enter week 12 and as much as I want to relax and focus on the 0.5% risk of miscarriage, I still can’t do so fully.  I broke down and bought maternity jeans (because why wait until I’m super big to enjoy comfortable pants?). I’ve made little purchases and lists of items to buy for the baby.   I’ve been stitching little woodland creatures for the nursery, planning out the room.  But still, each little feeling or flutter or spot or twinge seems like the other shoe about to drop.  We had our second appointment today, with a pretty fantastic mid-wife and got to hear the heartbeat.  How awesome a feeling to finally hear that “chachunk-chachunk-chachunk” sound!  Everything appears good.  I’ve gained my 6 lbs (which the nurse said is normal, or “welcome to motherhood” to be exact) and yet I just can’t relax and know I’m going to have a baby in 6.5 months.  It seems that the odds are impossible.

No wonder I’m having heart flutters constantly.  My heart is sending out a Morse code message to my baby, telling him or her that we’re together in this, for the long haul.

 

 

 

Week 5: Heart to Heart

Today’s adventure wasn’t really so much an adventure, except with the heart-pounding part of an adventure.  I started having heart palpation type feelings last night, lasting into this evening.  Fortunately, the after hours Dr. told me this was all totally normal–to drink more water and rest.  I am grateful to her for giving me common sense advice without laughing at me.  I ate dinner, pounded some (more) water, wrote an e-mail to my new Italian pen-pal, Domencio, and now I feel much better.  The anxiety about what seemed to be an impending heart failure certainly wasn’t making my heart feel any better.  Just some reassuring words (and more water) was what I needed.

Note to self: What I’d previously thought was a lot of water is about to seem insignificant–I really need to push myself on this!

In other news, nothing too major.  I had some light spotting after some “quiet study time” with the mister-which, according to the internet, is normal, but may require that we do not “study” together for a little while.  Not sure how I’m going to break that news to him just yet.

We’ve decided how we’re going to tell the Fam on Christmas eve–we’ve decided to pick out a baby book for each grandparent (and the uncle-to-be) and write a note, asking them to read it to the baby when it comes in 2012.  They can all open them at the same time. and hopefully figure it out without too much confusion.  (If we get a sonogram to include- that might help clarify for the slow-to-catch on.)

I just bought my first maternity wear–a Maternity Starter Kit from Forever 21.  A.) I had no idea Forever 21 sold anything for non-junior types. B.) A maternity starter pack! Genius!  C.) $11 and free shipping?  What? Do they still think it’s cyber Monday?

Thanks to Hey Jen Renee, my co-hort in pregnancy and love of key-lime ice cream, for that heads up.

Note to teenie-weenie: Today we made a deal.  I told you that  I am totally ok with putting up with any degree of pain while sneezing, chest pain, heart burn…whatever you can throw at me.  Your job is just to come out ok eventually.  Deal? Deal.

 

Poppy Seeds

This morning I woke up with the sunrise.  Hubby rolled over and said, “you’re not normally up before me” which is 99.9% accurate.  I tried to play it cool, but really, I just wanted to go take my pee test.

WHICH WAS POSITIVE!  Holy smokes, I’m making a baby!

Part of me kept wanting to ask the Mister if he’d actually seen the positive test too.  As in, was it really real?  The other part of me knew the test would be pregnant before I ever put bum to toilet seat.

To celebrate we went to First Watch, where my meal was accompanied by a poppy seed muffin.  Hubby points out that my phone app compared the baby’s estimated size to a poppy seed.  I tried to eat the muffin, but kept feeling like I was committing poppy-seed cannibalism by proxy.  See, hormones make you crazy.

Teenie Weenie, your daddy and I had a big hug this morning.  Despite tearing up in part at the knowledge that my pants will only fit me a few weeks longer, I was actually tearing up knowing you and I were going to get to be best buds for the next 8 months.