Today my college professor posted a link to his Facebook. It was a YouTube video of a young college student participating in a poetry slam. She used her words to describe life with her mother, as she watched her mother deprive herself of food in an effort to be thin, and as she saw herself doing the same. The words were poignant, well chosen, delivered with impact.
I watched the video while bouncing my fussing 6 month old on my hip. But I hardly heard his whimpering. The words MOVED me. My 2 year old daughter came in the front door, slamming it behind her, cheeks red from the cold. "MOMMY!" as she proceeded to tell me about her adventures. But I couldn't hear her. I was hanging on the words of the poet. And it wasn't even so much what she was saying as it was the way that she said it, the feeling behind it; the way she twisted and molded the words to have meaning and beauty and depth.
"MOMMY WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!!!!!" my toddler impatiently asks, tugging on my shirt. "Who knows what mommy's doing?" I heard my husband say.
And it's funny, because neither of them would understand if I told them. My husband's an engineer, and poetry isn't exactly his thing. And my daughter... well she doesn't know me as anything but "mommy". She doesn't know that I was an English major in college... that I've loved reading and dissecting and ruminating on words since I was a child. Or that this same college professor who posted this link told me when I graduated college that I had a real knack for literature and that if I wanted to be I had what it took to be a literature professor someday. Or that deep in my soul I have always wanted to write. To her, I'm just "mommy".
And today is one of those hard days. Where even though I have chosen this path of full-time stay at home mom, I feel some sadness that I'm not chasing all of those dreams. I have this part of my soul that loves art and literature and creating beauty. But that part of me is holding it's breath while I change another diaper and kiss another boo boo.
Tonight I looked down at my chubby baby boy, sitting naked in his bath in the kitchen sink. He looked up at me with his bright blue eyes and flashed me his incredible smile. I realized in that moment that motherhood is full of paradoxes. I don't regret where I am for even a second, and yet I often long for what will never be. If I'm not careful guilt begins to creep in, and I feel bad for acknowledging those feelings. But there they are. I want my children to know that part of me someday. I want them to know that I have dreams to be more than just their mommy, and yet am more satisfied in my soul being their mother than doing anything else in the world.
Thursday, October 24, 2013
Wednesday, October 9, 2013
Josh's Birth Story
Next week my baby boy turns 6 months old! I can't believe it! I realized a few weeks ago that I haven't written his birth story yet, and so I want to do it before the details start to fade.
As many of you know from my earlier postings I don't have the easiest pregnancies. There are many women out there who have it harder than me, but overall both my pregnancies have definitely had their challenges. Josh's birth story isn't the typical "my contractions started getting closer together" or "my water broke" type of birth story. His story really begins when I started having complications, so I'll give you some background.
Beginning at week 30 the doctors found out that my blood pressure was starting to get into an unhealthy range, and so I was put on medication (Labetelol) that I had to take twice a day. I also had to go in every week for an ultrasound/biophysical profile to check my fluid levels and the growth of the baby. It was really special for me to get to see my baby on ultrasound every week, especially because we didn't know what we were having. Every week I got to see the baby sucking his thumb, stubbornly staying in the "head up" breech position, and even got to see his little foot kicking me! After my ultrasounds I would get my blood pressure checked, and then head home. I was so blessed that Ben's mom, Jeanne, would come over every week to watch Abby for me during my appointments so that I didn't have to worry about bringing her with me to the doctor every time.
Since I began the medication at 30 weeks my blood pressures were pretty well controlled. The doctors like it to stay under 140/90, because any higher than that and it can begin to negatively affect the baby. And if it gets too high, then the mother is at risk of seizures. Most weeks my blood pressures were about 130/80, which the doctor was satisfied with. So for me the weekly visits began to feel fairly routine. I felt a huge sense of relief that the medication was working and that the doctor considered me to have a totally normal pregnancy otherwise.
My due date was April 28, but because of the complications that can potentially arise at the end of a pregnancy where there is high blood pressure present, the doctor planned to deliver me at the end of my 38th week. Because Josh was breech, that meant scheduling a c-section. Although I wasn't happy about the impending surgery, I felt like at least I would get to have some control over when to schedule the birth! Ben and I were hoping for a Friday, so that the majority of his days off would be at home with us, rather than in the hospital during the week. We got lucky and found out that my doctor does most of his c-sections on Fridays, and so the nurse said "So, does April 26 sound like a good day to have a baby?" At that point I was as big as a whale, so ANY day would have sounded like a good day to have a baby.
I was really nervous about the upcoming surgery. I'd never been hospitalized before (aside from Abby's birth), and had never had surgery. I was terrified of laying on a table in the operating room, and the more I thought about it and pictured it the more anxious I became. So I told Ben, "Look, I don't want to sit here and wait around to be cut open. We've got 3 weeks before this baby is coming, let's do something fun." So I asked him to get us Phillies tickets. I just wanted one last night out doing something special. Ben was a little skeptical that I would be able to make it through the whole game... but I insisted that it was what I wanted to do more than anything. So he bought us the tickets for Thursday, April 18. We lined up a babysitter, and I counted down the days before our last date night.
The next couple of weeks were uneventful. We finished washing all the baby clothes, getting the bassinet ready, and spent time with Abby. I continued going to my regular Tuesday doctor appointments.
One of the things I had to be careful about was watching for signs of preeclampsia. The specialist that I saw told me that I had a 50% chance of getting it again, and so I needed to watch out for the symptoms, like blurred vision, headaches, or suddenly swollen hands/feet. Preeclampsia is so serious that if you do develop it, and the baby is close enough to term, they will deliver the baby immediately. But so far I didn't have any symptoms, and for that I was thankful.
Then, on Sunday, April 14, during church, I remember feeling a pain on my left ring finger. I looked down and my hands had swollen to the point that my ring was starting to cut off my circulation. I was able to get it off, but in my gut I knew something wasn't quite right. I went home and immediately took my blood pressure. It was high, over 140/90, but I had just huffed and puffed my way up the stairs to take it, so I decided to lay down for a few minutes and take it again. Looking back now, I think I should have called the doctor at that point, but I had become a little desensitized to the high blood pressures, so I decided to wait it out. About 15 minutes later my pressure came down, and I knew I had a doctor's appointment coming up on Tuesday, so I could wait until then to talk to the doctor about my symptoms.
Tuesday (April 16) rolled around, and I got myself and Abby up and ready for Grandma (Jeanne) to come over so I could go to my doctor's appointment. I remember running late that morning trying to get Abby dressed and ready, and so I unintentionally skipped breakfast. My appointment was at 11am, and I figured I could run and grab some lunch afterwards on my way home. Jeanne came over, and I hugged and kissed Abby goodbye. I promised her that when I got home we could go outside to play, and that I wouldn't be gone long. I remember that morning that although Abby had become used to our Tuesday routine, she was more stressed than usual that morning. She cried when I was leaving, which was unusual, and as I left I remember thinking I couldn't wait to get home to her. I knew the new baby was coming in just 10 days, and I was really trying to soak up every minute of my time alone with her before everything would change.
My usual routine for Tuesdays was first to go upstairs to the ultrasound office to have my biophysical profile, and then afterwards head downstairs to see my doctor. I went upstairs, and said hello to the office staff, who knew me well by this point. Another woman was in there, showing off her new week-old baby to the nurse. She asked when I was due, and I told her it was 10 days away. She said "don't be so sure, I thought I had two weeks left, and this one surprised me by coming early." I remember rolling my eyes and thinking "there is no way this baby is coming early..." I went in and had my ultrasound, confirmed my little stinker was still breech, and joked with the ultrasound tech that she only had to see me twice more before my surgery. She said "well, unless he comes early!" Yeah, right.
I was 38 weeks along, and so at that point I was seeing my doctor every week. This particular week his schedule was so full they couldn't fit me in to see him. I was told I would need to see a different doctor in the practice. When I walked into the appointment the nurse handed me a pamphlet on what to expect during and after my c-section. I didn't have time to look at it before I was called back into the exam room to see the doctor. I was a little annoyed that I was seeing someone different in the practice... I had a lot of questions and anxieties about my upcoming c-section, and I really wanted to talk it over with my doctor. But I didn't get to think much about it when they started my appointment by taking my blood pressure. It was 140/90. The nurse frowned, and left to get the doctor. The doctor came back in, a young woman in her 30's who had just had a baby herself a few months before. She took my blood pressure a second time... this time it was 150/92. She told me that she was concerned by those numbers, but she wanted to give me a little time to lie down and rest, to see what would happen. She said she needed to run over to the hospital to do a delivery, and to rest while she was gone. She came back about 20 minutes later (wow, that was a quick delivery!), and rechecked me. It had gone back down to 140/90, but the doctor said that she was concerned that I was heading in the wrong direction, and she would feel better if I went to triage to be observed for a couple of hours to see exactly what my BP was doing over a longer period of time. I asked her if I needed to call my husband, and she said "No, I think it is ok to wait. It might turn out to be nothing, and you might get to go home. Go ahead and check into the hospital, and then we will let you know in plenty of time if something changes and we need to deliver you."
I stepped out into the waiting room, and visions of Abby's birth began coming back to me. I remember going in at 37 weeks with her, and getting similar BP at my checkup and going to the hospital for observation. I was induced that night and delivered her the next day. I wondered if today would be the day that I would meet this baby. I called Jeanne as I left the office, and told her that I wouldn't be home for a few hours, and needed to be observed in the hospital. She sounded worried, but I tried to downplay everything, hoping that if I could convince her it was no big deal that I could convince myself too. I felt guilty that I wouldn't be home in time to play with Abby like I had promised. Funny the little things we worry about as big things are happening.
I walked out to my car and called Ben. By then it was about 12:30pm. I was really hungry, because I had skipped breakfast, but I had no time to stop for lunch. I explained to Ben what was going on, and that I was headed over to the hospital (which is right next door to my doctor's office) to be observed. He asked me if I wanted him to come, and I told him that I could handle it by myself for now, and didn't want him to have to leave work for no reason. I told him that I would just be laying there on the monitors, and would call if I needed him. He sounded unsure... I don't think he wanted me to be alone. I remember feeling a sense of calm as I was walking towards the hospital. I didn't know what was ahead, and I was a little bit nervous, but I sensed God's presence with me, and I knew that no matter what was about to happen He was right there. And so it was like a supernatural confidence that kept me calm as I headed into the hospital.
I got checked in, and a nurse brought me into a small room to take my blood pressure. It had risen to about 160/100. She raised her eyebrows as she looked at the numbers. And then she leaned over and whispered "I'm no doctor, so don't quote me.... but I've been here a long time... and you're having a baby today." I remember feeling a huge mixture of emotions come over me... excitement, nervousness, a little fear, and some disbelief that this was really happening. They took me into a room, I got changed into a gown, and was hooked up to all kinds of monitors. I fidgeted as we awaited the official word from the doctor. I called my mom to tell her what was going on, and within minutes she was in the car headed to the hospital. Just a few minutes later the nurse came back in and said "We got word from the doctor! Today is a great day to have a baby! Call your husband!" I called Ben and told him the news. Turns out he had ignored me when I told him I could handle being monitored alone and was already on his way to come and be with me. He asked if he had time to turn around and go home for my hospital bag and our camera. I remember feeling so overwhelmed by the idea that I was actually going to have my baby that day... have SURGERY that day... that I couldn't even answer him. I wanted him with me that very second... but I didn't have anything with me! My whole hospital bag was at home, patiently waiting for April 26. I told him yes, to turn around and get our stuff. After what seemed like an eternity (but was only about 30 minutes) Ben arrived and I could tell he was in a state of disbelief too. We were both trying to wrap our heads around the fact that the baby was coming TODAY. We called Jeanne and told her to go upstairs to our room to find the list I had written out of all the things that Abby needed packed in order to go to Jeanne's house (sometimes being Type-A is a wonderful thing). And then we realized that if the baby was coming today that meant we were going to miss the Phillies game later that week! My date night had gone out the window... but I was going to meet my baby, and that was MUCH better than any date night :)
The nurses and doctors came in and out, asking me lots of different questions, and doing another ultrasound to confirm baby was still breech. After determining that yes, baby was still head up, and that I would need a c-section, they asked me when the last time was that I had eaten, because I would need to wait at least 12 hours after my last meal to have my surgery. Well, I told them, ironically enough I ran out of time to eat breakfast today, and I never made it to lunch, so I haven't eaten since 9pm last night. They were happy to hear that, as my blood pressure was continuing to climb and they needed to get the baby out quickly. They scheduled my c-section for 5pm. And that's when I started to see that verse that says "And God works all things together for the good of those who love him..." really start to play out. Had I eaten breakfast that day I would have had to wait until 9 or 10:00 for my surgery, all the while trying to control dangerous blood pressure. And then I got some more good news. My doctor (the one whose schedule had been too full for me to see that day), was the doctor on call in the OR doing all the c-sections that day! Isn't it funny how God works? Here I was frustrated I didn't get to see him in the office earlier... but God knew I was going to have my baby that day. And He knew it would be an emergency c-section. And He knew I would feel most at ease with my own doctor doing the surgery. And He knew I shouldn't have breakfast that day. And there He was, despite all my annoyances over missing breakfast and lunch and not seeing my doctor, working out EVERYTHING for my good.
I went upstairs to the pre-op area (the same place I had gone for my version 10 days before). I remember it was the day after the Boston Marathon bombings, and so the news was replaying the images over and over. I asked Ben to turn off the tv... I was so nervous about my surgery I just needed to stay in a positive frame of mind. The nurse came in and gave Ben a set of scrubs, and then attached some strange wrap sort of devices to my legs. She told me it would help with my circulation after surgery and prevent blood clots. Then the anesthesiologist came in and talked about the spinal that I would get to make me numb, and then the resident OB came in to introduce himself and explain that he would be doing my surgery along with my doctor. I don't remember much else that they told me.. I was getting more nervous by the second. After I was all prepped and ready, Ben and I headed to the OR.
Ben was told he had to wait outside while I went in and was given my spinal. After I was completely numb he would be allowed inside. I was terrified. All that warm-fuzzy supernatural confidence I had felt in the parking lot earlier was gone. I was facing surgery... I was about to be CUT OPEN... people were going to see my INSIDES... MY GUTS... and I was TOTALLY FREAKING OUT. I was wheeled on a stretcher over to the operating table. It was my first time in an operating room. It was huge! A lot bigger than I had imagined it would be. There were bright lights everywhere, and it was really really cold in there. I had to shimmy my way from the stretcher onto the table. The nurse anesthetist came over and introduced himself. I forget his name, but I will never forget his kindness. He explained exactly what would happen as the doctor put the needle into my back. He smiled and reassured me, "Everything is going to be 100% ok." I told him "I'll believe you after this is all over." The spinal went into my back, and within minutes I was numb. They laid me gently down onto the table, and put up a big blue curtain in front of my face. I could see their reflection a little in the lights over my head, so I refused to look up there for fear I might see my guts hanging out of my body. Then a nurse came over and moved my arms out to the sides next to me. Typically they tie your hands down so you don't have any sudden movements while they are working on you. I told the nurse anesthetist that I was afraid of having my hands tied down. He whispered that he would just make it look like they were tied, but leave the strings totally loose so that if I got nervous I could lift them at any time. It would be our secret.
Ben was allowed in and he came and sat down on my left, up by my head. The nurse anesthetist said "someone will always be near your head in case you need anything." I said, "Will it be you?"... he looked around. I could tell it wasn't his usual job... but then he looked at me... and I think he must have sensed the terror I was feeling and so he gently said "Yup! It will be me. I promise I won't leave your side." It's funny, I had just met him 5 minutes ago, but hearing him say that brought me more comfort than anything else. He reminded me everything would be ok... and I reminded him that I would not believe him until after it was over.
My doctor came in (a graying man in his 60's) and said "hey kid! looks like we're having a baby today huh?" The resident leaned over and asked if I felt anything. I said no. He said "good, because I just pricked you pretty hard, so that must mean the spinal is working." I nodded, but was still secretly afraid that I would feel them cutting my belly open. I still wouldn't look up at those lights. I was NOT going to risk seeing my insides.
They began to cut me open, and literally within minutes they had the baby halfway out. He came out feet first, little butt sticking up in the air. Once he was partially out, they let Ben stand up and watch the rest of him being born. We kept asking "What is it? A boy or a girl? WHAT IS IT?!!" Ben couldn't see because the baby was breech, and his butt was blocking the view of his boyness or girlness. My doctor said to the resident "TELL THEM WHAT IT IS!!!"
"IT'S A BOY!"
Oh my gosh. It's a BOY! IT'S A BOY! I couldn't even wrap my head around it. A BOY. I turned to Ben, "We have a BOY! Can you believe it?!!!" They lifted him the rest of the way out and took him over to the incubator. We waited in silence as we watched the nurses and doctors work. He was having trouble breathing, and needed some extra help at first. But within minutes they had him stable and I got to watch from the table as they took his footprints and rubbed him till he was a pinky, rosy color.
A boy! Tears were streaming down my face. I just couldn't believe it. The doctor asked me what his name was. "Joshua David". My very own Joshua David. 6 lbs 12oz, 19 inches long, born at 5:03pm on April 16, 2013.
As many of you know from my earlier postings I don't have the easiest pregnancies. There are many women out there who have it harder than me, but overall both my pregnancies have definitely had their challenges. Josh's birth story isn't the typical "my contractions started getting closer together" or "my water broke" type of birth story. His story really begins when I started having complications, so I'll give you some background.
Beginning at week 30 the doctors found out that my blood pressure was starting to get into an unhealthy range, and so I was put on medication (Labetelol) that I had to take twice a day. I also had to go in every week for an ultrasound/biophysical profile to check my fluid levels and the growth of the baby. It was really special for me to get to see my baby on ultrasound every week, especially because we didn't know what we were having. Every week I got to see the baby sucking his thumb, stubbornly staying in the "head up" breech position, and even got to see his little foot kicking me! After my ultrasounds I would get my blood pressure checked, and then head home. I was so blessed that Ben's mom, Jeanne, would come over every week to watch Abby for me during my appointments so that I didn't have to worry about bringing her with me to the doctor every time.
Since I began the medication at 30 weeks my blood pressures were pretty well controlled. The doctors like it to stay under 140/90, because any higher than that and it can begin to negatively affect the baby. And if it gets too high, then the mother is at risk of seizures. Most weeks my blood pressures were about 130/80, which the doctor was satisfied with. So for me the weekly visits began to feel fairly routine. I felt a huge sense of relief that the medication was working and that the doctor considered me to have a totally normal pregnancy otherwise.
My due date was April 28, but because of the complications that can potentially arise at the end of a pregnancy where there is high blood pressure present, the doctor planned to deliver me at the end of my 38th week. Because Josh was breech, that meant scheduling a c-section. Although I wasn't happy about the impending surgery, I felt like at least I would get to have some control over when to schedule the birth! Ben and I were hoping for a Friday, so that the majority of his days off would be at home with us, rather than in the hospital during the week. We got lucky and found out that my doctor does most of his c-sections on Fridays, and so the nurse said "So, does April 26 sound like a good day to have a baby?" At that point I was as big as a whale, so ANY day would have sounded like a good day to have a baby.
I was really nervous about the upcoming surgery. I'd never been hospitalized before (aside from Abby's birth), and had never had surgery. I was terrified of laying on a table in the operating room, and the more I thought about it and pictured it the more anxious I became. So I told Ben, "Look, I don't want to sit here and wait around to be cut open. We've got 3 weeks before this baby is coming, let's do something fun." So I asked him to get us Phillies tickets. I just wanted one last night out doing something special. Ben was a little skeptical that I would be able to make it through the whole game... but I insisted that it was what I wanted to do more than anything. So he bought us the tickets for Thursday, April 18. We lined up a babysitter, and I counted down the days before our last date night.
The next couple of weeks were uneventful. We finished washing all the baby clothes, getting the bassinet ready, and spent time with Abby. I continued going to my regular Tuesday doctor appointments.
One of the things I had to be careful about was watching for signs of preeclampsia. The specialist that I saw told me that I had a 50% chance of getting it again, and so I needed to watch out for the symptoms, like blurred vision, headaches, or suddenly swollen hands/feet. Preeclampsia is so serious that if you do develop it, and the baby is close enough to term, they will deliver the baby immediately. But so far I didn't have any symptoms, and for that I was thankful.
Then, on Sunday, April 14, during church, I remember feeling a pain on my left ring finger. I looked down and my hands had swollen to the point that my ring was starting to cut off my circulation. I was able to get it off, but in my gut I knew something wasn't quite right. I went home and immediately took my blood pressure. It was high, over 140/90, but I had just huffed and puffed my way up the stairs to take it, so I decided to lay down for a few minutes and take it again. Looking back now, I think I should have called the doctor at that point, but I had become a little desensitized to the high blood pressures, so I decided to wait it out. About 15 minutes later my pressure came down, and I knew I had a doctor's appointment coming up on Tuesday, so I could wait until then to talk to the doctor about my symptoms.
Tuesday (April 16) rolled around, and I got myself and Abby up and ready for Grandma (Jeanne) to come over so I could go to my doctor's appointment. I remember running late that morning trying to get Abby dressed and ready, and so I unintentionally skipped breakfast. My appointment was at 11am, and I figured I could run and grab some lunch afterwards on my way home. Jeanne came over, and I hugged and kissed Abby goodbye. I promised her that when I got home we could go outside to play, and that I wouldn't be gone long. I remember that morning that although Abby had become used to our Tuesday routine, she was more stressed than usual that morning. She cried when I was leaving, which was unusual, and as I left I remember thinking I couldn't wait to get home to her. I knew the new baby was coming in just 10 days, and I was really trying to soak up every minute of my time alone with her before everything would change.
My usual routine for Tuesdays was first to go upstairs to the ultrasound office to have my biophysical profile, and then afterwards head downstairs to see my doctor. I went upstairs, and said hello to the office staff, who knew me well by this point. Another woman was in there, showing off her new week-old baby to the nurse. She asked when I was due, and I told her it was 10 days away. She said "don't be so sure, I thought I had two weeks left, and this one surprised me by coming early." I remember rolling my eyes and thinking "there is no way this baby is coming early..." I went in and had my ultrasound, confirmed my little stinker was still breech, and joked with the ultrasound tech that she only had to see me twice more before my surgery. She said "well, unless he comes early!" Yeah, right.
I was 38 weeks along, and so at that point I was seeing my doctor every week. This particular week his schedule was so full they couldn't fit me in to see him. I was told I would need to see a different doctor in the practice. When I walked into the appointment the nurse handed me a pamphlet on what to expect during and after my c-section. I didn't have time to look at it before I was called back into the exam room to see the doctor. I was a little annoyed that I was seeing someone different in the practice... I had a lot of questions and anxieties about my upcoming c-section, and I really wanted to talk it over with my doctor. But I didn't get to think much about it when they started my appointment by taking my blood pressure. It was 140/90. The nurse frowned, and left to get the doctor. The doctor came back in, a young woman in her 30's who had just had a baby herself a few months before. She took my blood pressure a second time... this time it was 150/92. She told me that she was concerned by those numbers, but she wanted to give me a little time to lie down and rest, to see what would happen. She said she needed to run over to the hospital to do a delivery, and to rest while she was gone. She came back about 20 minutes later (wow, that was a quick delivery!), and rechecked me. It had gone back down to 140/90, but the doctor said that she was concerned that I was heading in the wrong direction, and she would feel better if I went to triage to be observed for a couple of hours to see exactly what my BP was doing over a longer period of time. I asked her if I needed to call my husband, and she said "No, I think it is ok to wait. It might turn out to be nothing, and you might get to go home. Go ahead and check into the hospital, and then we will let you know in plenty of time if something changes and we need to deliver you."
I stepped out into the waiting room, and visions of Abby's birth began coming back to me. I remember going in at 37 weeks with her, and getting similar BP at my checkup and going to the hospital for observation. I was induced that night and delivered her the next day. I wondered if today would be the day that I would meet this baby. I called Jeanne as I left the office, and told her that I wouldn't be home for a few hours, and needed to be observed in the hospital. She sounded worried, but I tried to downplay everything, hoping that if I could convince her it was no big deal that I could convince myself too. I felt guilty that I wouldn't be home in time to play with Abby like I had promised. Funny the little things we worry about as big things are happening.
I walked out to my car and called Ben. By then it was about 12:30pm. I was really hungry, because I had skipped breakfast, but I had no time to stop for lunch. I explained to Ben what was going on, and that I was headed over to the hospital (which is right next door to my doctor's office) to be observed. He asked me if I wanted him to come, and I told him that I could handle it by myself for now, and didn't want him to have to leave work for no reason. I told him that I would just be laying there on the monitors, and would call if I needed him. He sounded unsure... I don't think he wanted me to be alone. I remember feeling a sense of calm as I was walking towards the hospital. I didn't know what was ahead, and I was a little bit nervous, but I sensed God's presence with me, and I knew that no matter what was about to happen He was right there. And so it was like a supernatural confidence that kept me calm as I headed into the hospital.
I got checked in, and a nurse brought me into a small room to take my blood pressure. It had risen to about 160/100. She raised her eyebrows as she looked at the numbers. And then she leaned over and whispered "I'm no doctor, so don't quote me.... but I've been here a long time... and you're having a baby today." I remember feeling a huge mixture of emotions come over me... excitement, nervousness, a little fear, and some disbelief that this was really happening. They took me into a room, I got changed into a gown, and was hooked up to all kinds of monitors. I fidgeted as we awaited the official word from the doctor. I called my mom to tell her what was going on, and within minutes she was in the car headed to the hospital. Just a few minutes later the nurse came back in and said "We got word from the doctor! Today is a great day to have a baby! Call your husband!" I called Ben and told him the news. Turns out he had ignored me when I told him I could handle being monitored alone and was already on his way to come and be with me. He asked if he had time to turn around and go home for my hospital bag and our camera. I remember feeling so overwhelmed by the idea that I was actually going to have my baby that day... have SURGERY that day... that I couldn't even answer him. I wanted him with me that very second... but I didn't have anything with me! My whole hospital bag was at home, patiently waiting for April 26. I told him yes, to turn around and get our stuff. After what seemed like an eternity (but was only about 30 minutes) Ben arrived and I could tell he was in a state of disbelief too. We were both trying to wrap our heads around the fact that the baby was coming TODAY. We called Jeanne and told her to go upstairs to our room to find the list I had written out of all the things that Abby needed packed in order to go to Jeanne's house (sometimes being Type-A is a wonderful thing). And then we realized that if the baby was coming today that meant we were going to miss the Phillies game later that week! My date night had gone out the window... but I was going to meet my baby, and that was MUCH better than any date night :)
The nurses and doctors came in and out, asking me lots of different questions, and doing another ultrasound to confirm baby was still breech. After determining that yes, baby was still head up, and that I would need a c-section, they asked me when the last time was that I had eaten, because I would need to wait at least 12 hours after my last meal to have my surgery. Well, I told them, ironically enough I ran out of time to eat breakfast today, and I never made it to lunch, so I haven't eaten since 9pm last night. They were happy to hear that, as my blood pressure was continuing to climb and they needed to get the baby out quickly. They scheduled my c-section for 5pm. And that's when I started to see that verse that says "And God works all things together for the good of those who love him..." really start to play out. Had I eaten breakfast that day I would have had to wait until 9 or 10:00 for my surgery, all the while trying to control dangerous blood pressure. And then I got some more good news. My doctor (the one whose schedule had been too full for me to see that day), was the doctor on call in the OR doing all the c-sections that day! Isn't it funny how God works? Here I was frustrated I didn't get to see him in the office earlier... but God knew I was going to have my baby that day. And He knew it would be an emergency c-section. And He knew I would feel most at ease with my own doctor doing the surgery. And He knew I shouldn't have breakfast that day. And there He was, despite all my annoyances over missing breakfast and lunch and not seeing my doctor, working out EVERYTHING for my good.
I went upstairs to the pre-op area (the same place I had gone for my version 10 days before). I remember it was the day after the Boston Marathon bombings, and so the news was replaying the images over and over. I asked Ben to turn off the tv... I was so nervous about my surgery I just needed to stay in a positive frame of mind. The nurse came in and gave Ben a set of scrubs, and then attached some strange wrap sort of devices to my legs. She told me it would help with my circulation after surgery and prevent blood clots. Then the anesthesiologist came in and talked about the spinal that I would get to make me numb, and then the resident OB came in to introduce himself and explain that he would be doing my surgery along with my doctor. I don't remember much else that they told me.. I was getting more nervous by the second. After I was all prepped and ready, Ben and I headed to the OR.
Ben was told he had to wait outside while I went in and was given my spinal. After I was completely numb he would be allowed inside. I was terrified. All that warm-fuzzy supernatural confidence I had felt in the parking lot earlier was gone. I was facing surgery... I was about to be CUT OPEN... people were going to see my INSIDES... MY GUTS... and I was TOTALLY FREAKING OUT. I was wheeled on a stretcher over to the operating table. It was my first time in an operating room. It was huge! A lot bigger than I had imagined it would be. There were bright lights everywhere, and it was really really cold in there. I had to shimmy my way from the stretcher onto the table. The nurse anesthetist came over and introduced himself. I forget his name, but I will never forget his kindness. He explained exactly what would happen as the doctor put the needle into my back. He smiled and reassured me, "Everything is going to be 100% ok." I told him "I'll believe you after this is all over." The spinal went into my back, and within minutes I was numb. They laid me gently down onto the table, and put up a big blue curtain in front of my face. I could see their reflection a little in the lights over my head, so I refused to look up there for fear I might see my guts hanging out of my body. Then a nurse came over and moved my arms out to the sides next to me. Typically they tie your hands down so you don't have any sudden movements while they are working on you. I told the nurse anesthetist that I was afraid of having my hands tied down. He whispered that he would just make it look like they were tied, but leave the strings totally loose so that if I got nervous I could lift them at any time. It would be our secret.
Ben was allowed in and he came and sat down on my left, up by my head. The nurse anesthetist said "someone will always be near your head in case you need anything." I said, "Will it be you?"... he looked around. I could tell it wasn't his usual job... but then he looked at me... and I think he must have sensed the terror I was feeling and so he gently said "Yup! It will be me. I promise I won't leave your side." It's funny, I had just met him 5 minutes ago, but hearing him say that brought me more comfort than anything else. He reminded me everything would be ok... and I reminded him that I would not believe him until after it was over.
My doctor came in (a graying man in his 60's) and said "hey kid! looks like we're having a baby today huh?" The resident leaned over and asked if I felt anything. I said no. He said "good, because I just pricked you pretty hard, so that must mean the spinal is working." I nodded, but was still secretly afraid that I would feel them cutting my belly open. I still wouldn't look up at those lights. I was NOT going to risk seeing my insides.
They began to cut me open, and literally within minutes they had the baby halfway out. He came out feet first, little butt sticking up in the air. Once he was partially out, they let Ben stand up and watch the rest of him being born. We kept asking "What is it? A boy or a girl? WHAT IS IT?!!" Ben couldn't see because the baby was breech, and his butt was blocking the view of his boyness or girlness. My doctor said to the resident "TELL THEM WHAT IT IS!!!"
"IT'S A BOY!"
Oh my gosh. It's a BOY! IT'S A BOY! I couldn't even wrap my head around it. A BOY. I turned to Ben, "We have a BOY! Can you believe it?!!!" They lifted him the rest of the way out and took him over to the incubator. We waited in silence as we watched the nurses and doctors work. He was having trouble breathing, and needed some extra help at first. But within minutes they had him stable and I got to watch from the table as they took his footprints and rubbed him till he was a pinky, rosy color.
Soon a nurse came over, and asked if I felt ready to hold him. At this point I was still flat on my back, totally numb from the waist down, and not totally sewn up yet. But nothing was going to keep me from my baby. The nurse brought him over, and laid him on my chest, skin to skin. There is absolutely nothing in the world like meeting your child for the first time. There are no words to describe the emotions that come over you like a wave as you hold that tiny, warm body close to your chest, and look into their deep blue eyes. He was mine. All mine. I forgot about the fact that I was lying on an operating table with my belly cut wide open. It was just me and my Joshie. My little man.
The nurse anesthetist asked Ben for our camera so he could take some pictures of us as family. He said we'd treasure this moment forever. He was right. I told him that I believed him now. Everything would be 100% ok.
They finished sewing me up, and a nurse took the baby to wrap him up. A large piece of machinery moved over top of the table, and the nurses hooked straps up to the blankets I was laying on. Then the machine lifted me up, sort of like in a big taco, and moved me over to a stretcher so I could be wheeled to the recovery area. The nurse handed me back the baby, and let me hold him all the way down the hall and into recovery where I was able to nurse him right away.
I kind of wish the story ended there... with recovery going great and sunshine and roses. But things didn't exactly happen that way. And that's ok. It's my story, and I've got to own it. Nothing really happened like I had imagined it would, and recovery was no different.
Typically you are brought into recovery for 2 hours, and then moved down to your postpartum room. That's where your family comes to see you and you have your baby in your room with you, etc. Well, 2 hours turned into 4, and 4 hours turned into 6 in the recovery room. Our parents were able to visit us, and I was pretty happy from whatever magical drugs they had given me, so I didn't really notice that I was in the recovery area a lot longer than they had said I would be. But about 11pm my doctor came back in. He said the reason they had delivered me was because it was the only way to get my blood pressure to go back to normal. But instead of going down, my blood pressure was still rising. It was about 170/115 when he came to talk to me at 11pm. My liver enzymes were high, and I was showing signs of developing eclampsia. Eclampsia is a life threatening situation that can cause seizures and even death to the mother if left untreated. I was told I would have to be put on a drug called magnesium sulfate for the next 24 hours to keep me from having a seizure. At the time I nodded, hearing what he was saying, but not really understanding what it all meant.
They started the medication in my IV, and took me over to the labor and delivery floor where I would be monitored around the clock. I still hadn't been able to get out of the bed since my surgery. Typically women are practicing getting up out of bed within a couple of hours after a c-section. My pain medication was starting to wear off and I was in a lot of pain. I went down to the labor and delivery room, and the nurse explained that I was going to get very tired and weak from the magnesium sulfate. I was exhausted from my surgery and the late hour, and could barely lift my head up off the bed. I wanted to nurse my baby, but I honestly was afraid I would drop him if I held him. She asked if I wanted her to take him to the nursery overnight, and feed him a bottle. Even though I felt 1,000 pounds of guilt over it, I weakly nodded yes. I was starting to feel as sick as I really was. That night and the next day were some of the worst I've ever experienced. The magnesium sulfate works by slowing down everything in your body. I could barely hold my eyes open, and I felt drugged an unable to understand a lot of what was going on around me. I barely even remember our parents visiting us. I was seeing double because the medicine made one of my eyes go lazy, and I couldn't eat or drink anything while I was on the medication. That meant I hadn't eaten anything since late on April 15, and it was now mid-day on the 17th. I had a hard time bonding with Josh because I was so sick, exhausted, and drugged.
I know I was lucky to have such good medical care. My condition was really serious. I needed that medication to keep me from having a potentially life threatening seizure. But it wasn't easy. I asked not to have any visitors outside of our parents for those first couple of days. I wanted to be able to enjoy seeing our family/friends, but I couldn't when I was stuck in bed with a catheter and a lazy eye. Thankfully at 5pm on the 17th I was allowed to come off the medication, and slowly start walking around.
Things got much better after that, and within a couple of days we were headed home with our Joshua.
It wasn't the way I imagined it would go. But it's my story. Our story. And I've been blessed with the most precious son a mother could ever hope for. He is sweet and loving, slow to anger, and quick to cuddle. He loves his sister, and laughs every day. He reminds me of what's important, and to cherish every minute because he is growing way too fast. And I love him with my whole heart 100% forever and ever. He was worth every second of what I had to go through for him to be born. I am so, so blessed.
Saturday, July 13, 2013
Blades of grass
As for man, his days are like grass-- he blooms like a flower of the field; when the wind passes over it, it vanishes, and its place is no longer known. Psalm 103:15-16
Today Ben and I took the kids up to see my grandparents in the Poconos. They hadn't had a chance to meet Joshua yet, and we were glad to be able to spend the day with them. I always enjoy getting to see them, as it brings back warm memories of childhood summers spent in the mountains baking brownies with my Grandma and riding tractors with my Pop Pop. And of course, listening to stories of the past, told in that special way only grandparents know how to do.
Today Ben and I took the kids up to see my grandparents in the Poconos. They hadn't had a chance to meet Joshua yet, and we were glad to be able to spend the day with them. I always enjoy getting to see them, as it brings back warm memories of childhood summers spent in the mountains baking brownies with my Grandma and riding tractors with my Pop Pop. And of course, listening to stories of the past, told in that special way only grandparents know how to do.
Today, as I sat nursing my chubby baby boy, my grandma told me about the days when she was raising her four babies. She remarked at how different things are now, with the new nursing covers that allow women to nurse their babies discreetly in public. She said that in her day women were expected to nurse in private. She told me about a party she attended after having her first baby, and how she had to go into a back bedroom to feed him away from the other guests, and that at one point a small boy wandered into the room, about five or six years old, and couldn't believe what he saw! When he rejoined the party someone asked him what he had seen and he said, "That baby is eating Pat!" She laughed as she told the story, remembering it like it was yesterday instead of almost sixty years ago. As she looked at me holding my baby, it made her think back to the days when she had her babies, and I realized just how quickly time must have passed for her.
When I was pregnant with Josh, many mothers told me how time passes so much more quickly with your second child than your first. I didn't know what they meant until Josh arrived. Now I've hardly blinked and he is already 3 months old. I suppose that's how my Grandma feels... she's hardly blinked now she's holding her great-grandson.
I know it's unrealistic to cherish every moment, life just isn't that easy. But I do so wish I could capture and describe and forever remember the most precious moments with my babies. The way they look when they fall asleep, so peaceful, so beautiful. And the way their eyes crinkle when they smile. And the sound of the laughter that comes from deep in their bellies when I tickle them. And the sweetness of their smell when they fall asleep on my chest. And the softness of their skin when I kiss them goodnight. And how it feels when my tiny baby grabs my finger and squeezes hard, and how warm my hand feels when Abby slips hers in mine.
I don't want to close my eyes for fear that I will blink too fast. I just want to cherish and remember all of it, so that sixty years from now, when my children are grown and the house is quiet, I can close my eyes and still hear the laughter and taste the sweetness. And if I'm lucky, I hope someday I can pass on this love in stories to my own great-grandchildren.
Tuesday, June 25, 2013
The juggling act
Before Josh was born I remember a few people asking me if I was worried about how much life would change going from one to two kids. At the time I said no, I wasn't especially worried, I figured it would all sort itself out eventually. Besides, what's the point of worrying about the inevitable? I once heard someone say that change, even a welcome change, brings stress and difficulties. And I knew that having a second baby would be a welcome change, albeit a stressful one at times.
For the most part, it hasn't been so bad. I've already been through the baby stage once before, so I am less worried about getting everything right this time. I think what I didn't anticipate was the guilt I would feel when both kids need me at the exact same time, and I am not able to meet both of their needs right away. They say the love in your heart multiplies when you welcome a second child, but I think I needed my hands to multiply as well. Sometimes there is just not enough of me to go around.
Like when Abby wants to eat lunch, and Josh decides he needs to nurse at that exact moment too, and when they aren't fed IMMEDIATELY both end up screaming and crying and I run around like a maniac trying to satisfy everyone. Or when Abby wants to go outside and play and I need to get her shoes on and Josh needs a diaper change at the same time, and again, when either of them has to wait for even 3 seconds, they end up screaming.
I've had to just accept that at any given point in time one of my children is most certainly going to be crying and/or screaming and tell myself that I am doing the best I can.
But it makes for a long day.
For the most part, it hasn't been so bad. I've already been through the baby stage once before, so I am less worried about getting everything right this time. I think what I didn't anticipate was the guilt I would feel when both kids need me at the exact same time, and I am not able to meet both of their needs right away. They say the love in your heart multiplies when you welcome a second child, but I think I needed my hands to multiply as well. Sometimes there is just not enough of me to go around.
Like when Abby wants to eat lunch, and Josh decides he needs to nurse at that exact moment too, and when they aren't fed IMMEDIATELY both end up screaming and crying and I run around like a maniac trying to satisfy everyone. Or when Abby wants to go outside and play and I need to get her shoes on and Josh needs a diaper change at the same time, and again, when either of them has to wait for even 3 seconds, they end up screaming.
I've had to just accept that at any given point in time one of my children is most certainly going to be crying and/or screaming and tell myself that I am doing the best I can.
But it makes for a long day.
Sunday, April 7, 2013
Many are the plans in a mother's heart
It's been a long time since I blogged. As a matter of fact, I haven't written one this entire pregnancy. I think it has something to do with running after my 2 year old all day, and dealing with high blood pressure throughout this pregnancy that leaves me with very little physical or mental energy at the end of the day.
But today I am 37 weeks pregnant, with just 2 more weeks to go, so I thought I would get one pregnancy blog in before we bring home our new son or daughter. Be prepared, it's a long one, 9 months in the making!
It's amazing to me how much our children teach us, even before they are born. I have been learning so many lessons from this little one already. But I think the hardest, and most important one is that "many are the plans in a [mother's] heart, but it is the Lord's purpose that prevails" (Proverbs 19:21).
I have never shared Abby's birth story, but her story has a lot to do with how I wanted the birth of this little one to happen. I had a difficult pregnancy with Abby, including gestational diabetes and preeclampsia. I remember walking into the doctor's office when I was 37 weeks pregnant with Abby, and my blood pressure was so dangerously high that I had to be induced immediately. I was blessed with a wonderful team of doctors who took excellent care of me, but there were many frightening moments during labor, including a time when Abby's heart rate was so low I was almost wheeled into an emergency c-section. At the last second Abby's heart rate came back into the normal range, and I was able to avoid surgery. But my epidural caused me severe back pain for weeks following her birth, and I struggled with my blood pressure for 3 months. I am so blessed that she was born healthy, beautiful, and ready to take on the world. But I was scared about what the next pregnancy would bring.
This little one made his or her presence known to me right away. I remember the moment I knew I was pregnant. Ben and I had been working on a number of home projects, and one afternoon in August I was taping up our large bay window so that I could paint the trim. I was standing on the window seat working in the hot afternoon sun, and all of the sudden nausea hit me like a strong wave. And that's when I knew... I was only 3 weeks along! The doctor couldn't believe I had morning sickness so early on. But this baby has always had plans of its own.
I had much worse morning sickness those first 12 weeks than I ever did with Abby. Food was my enemy, and there was a period of about 3 weeks where all I could stand to eat were Ramen Noodles. But once those first 12 weeks passed, I started to get my energy back and feel much better. I knew my next hurdle would be taking the test for gestational diabetes. I had a big scare when I took the test while pregnant with Abby. It caused my sugar to go so high I had to be admitted to the hospital for a day until I was stabilized. Needless to say, I was very nervous to take the glucose test again.
It was around the week that I had to take my glucose test that I started praying and asking the Lord to help redeem the experience I had with my first pregnancy. I desperately wanted things to be different this time. I remember the day I received the call from the nurse telling me I had passed the glucose test. I didn't have diabetes this time!! I literally shouted for joy on the phone. I felt like a weight had been lifted from me, and I was convinced that this meant the rest of the pregnancy would be "easy". I knew that with no diabetes I was considered "low risk" for the first time! And so I began to think a lot about what I wanted in terms of my labor and delivery. Many are the plans in a mother's heart....
Part of what made my experience with Abby so difficult was the intense pain that my epidural caused for weeks after her birth. It made bonding with her and caring for her so much more difficult, and made my recovery much slower. Because of this and a few other reasons, I made the decision that I wanted to have a drug-free birth this time around. I knew it would be difficult and painful, but I hoped that it would also make my recovery faster and easier. Once I knew this is what I wanted, I began to look into the possibility of switching practices, as part of me just wanted to get as far away from the difficult memories of labor with Abby in the hospital and do something entirely different. I found a wonderful birth center, with very experienced midwives. I called and talked to them about my history and hopes for this birth, and they were extremely supportive and shared my vision entirely. They had a facility that felt like home. It was such a calm and soothing place! But they told me that they could only accept me into their practice if my blood pressure stayed low, and everything else remained 100% low risk.
I had my first "official" appointment with them at 30 weeks. I walked into their office excited about my new birth plan, and so excited to have the hope of a completely different experience this time. I sat down and in the exam room, and started my appointment. And that's when all of my plans started to unravel. When the midwife took my blood pressure that day it was 155/110. Dangerous to me and the baby. I laid there being monitored for 2 hours while the midwives discussed what would need to happen next. They told me that unfortunately, with my history, and my current blood pressure, that I could not be their patient and could not deliver my baby with them. They called my original doctor, who asked that I be sent to his office immediately. When I arrived at his office, with Abby in tow, he made it very clear that he was angry I had switched practices, and that he felt that it was a very poor choice on my part. I was crushed. Not only did I have to give up my plans for birth at the birth center, I now had an OB who was frustrated with me and felt that I had made a choice that could have compromised my health. After another few hours of monitoring, my blood pressure came down enough that I was allowed to go home. I had to start blood pressure medication immediately. And I was now high risk. Again.
It took many weeks to feel "normal" again after that. Blood pressure medication works by slowing everything down in your body. If I thought I was tired before I started that medication, fatigue had a whole new meaning after I began the medication. It was frustrating, as it made it very hard to care for Abby, and I had to rely on the help of family and friends to get through those first few weeks adjusting to the medicine.
But by about 33 weeks, I started to feel much better, and my body began to get used to the effects of the medicine. One of the side effects of the medicine and blood pressure problems is that it can cause growth restriction of the baby. In other words, it can affect how much blood the baby gets and cause it to be born underweight. In order to make sure that this did not happen, I was scheduled for weekly ultrasounds and monthly visits with a high risk specialist. Each week I went in, my baby looked great! As a matter of fact, it was growing a week or two ahead of schedule. In other words, perfectly healthy. I was so thankful! And although I was told I had a 50/50 chance of developing preeclampsia, each week that passed my blood pressure looked better and better. Other than needing medication, there was no other intervention needed. My doctor was very happy with my progress, and said that this was the best case scenario for someone with high blood pressure. He said that he would induce me at 39 weeks to avoid the possible complications that can occur in the last few weeks of pregnancy for someone with high blood pressure, but other than that no other intervention was necessary. And so other than having to give up my plans of birthing at the birth center, I was again looking forward to the drug-free birth that I had wanted so badly this time. I started researching ways to manage pain in the hospital, and how to work with the hospital facility and staff to create a supportive environment for my experience. Many are the plans in a mother's heart...
One of the "upsides" to being high risk meant that I had the opportunity to see my little one every week on an ultrasound. I got to see him or her kicking, and making faces, and playing with it's little fingers every week! My ultrasounds started at 30 weeks, and each week my baby's head was way high up in my ribs and it's precious feet were kicking me for all it's worth down in my bladder. As the weeks crept by, I kept waiting for the baby to flip head down. About 85% are head down by about 32 weeks, and by 36 weeks 97% of babies are head down. Less than 3% are still in the head-up, or breech, position by full term (37 weeks). And so the ultrasound technician assured me at 33 weeks I had nothing to worry about, that the baby would turn. And then she said it again at 34 weeks..... and 35 weeks... And every week the baby was still head up. I started researching methods to make my baby turn. There are a lot of "exercises" out there guaranteed to help your baby flip. Head stands off your couch, laying upside down on an ironing board at 45 degrees, crawling around on all fours multiple times a day. I tried them all. At my 36 week appointment, I waited for the news I already knew was coming. My baby was still breech, of that I was sure. I can feel the head sticking in my ribs like the horn of a saddle if I lean over too much. The doctor told me that I had two options. Either I could let him try to manually turn my baby from the outside. Or I could schedule a c-section for 39 weeks in the hope that the baby would turn on its own before then. I had already done my research, and knew that manually turning the baby was my last hope at achieving the birth I so wanted for me and my baby.
I agreed to the procedure. It's called an external cephalic version (ECV). So on this past Friday, I was admitted to the hospital at 11:45am for my ECV. I was terrified. I knew a few people who had had the procedure done, and it sounded like one of the scariest things I had ever heard of. The doctor actually pushes on your belly as hard as he can from the outside, pushing and pulling the baby into the correct position. The baby is monitored the entire time to make sure that the pushing and pulling does not cause any distress. And it is done in a room on the c-section floor in case an emergency occurs. Thankfully, my doctor suggested that I have an epidural for the procedure as it helps to relax the muscles and make the turning easier. And although I was terrified of the back pain that resulted from my last epidural, I knew that I would not be able to withstand the procedure without it.
The anesthesia team came in and administered my epidural around 2pm. Within a few minutes of inserting it, I knew something was wrong. My ears had a strange pressure in them, I was unable to hear, and I felt like I would pass out. The team checked my epidural, and found that it had migrated into my blood vessel. My entire left side was numb, and my right side still had full feeling. I had to be lifted up, the epidural completely removed, and a new one inserted. The doctors and nurses were whispering frantically to each other behind me, no one telling me what was happening. They just kept saying "I can't believe it migrated to her blood vessel, this is so rare, this is so rare." I remember asking them "Am I going to be ok??" Thankfully they were able to fix the problem, and it took a few more minutes, but I was stabilized and they were able to numb my right side. At this point I just kept praying "Lord, after all of this PLEASE let this work. PLEASE turn my baby."
My OB came in, and with help from another doctor the procedure began. For about 15 minutes I laid there, eyes closed, holding the hand of a nurse but in my mind it was the hand of Jesus. I can't really describe the procedure adequately. They literally lifted the baby up in my stomach and began to turn it around, in a forward roll kind of motion. I just kept my eyes closed, breathing deeply, and praying. It hurt at first, but as I prayed, the pain went away and I was able to focus on staying relaxed. They got the baby turned about 3/4 of the way, but it stopped there. They tried for about 15 minutes, and each time they turned it a little, it would turn back. As the minutes passed by, I began to realize that it wasn't going to work. That my baby wasn't going to turn. The doctor let go of my stomach and looked at me. I could tell how sorry he was. He said one of the baby's feet was positioned so low that it would not budge, and was the reason the baby can't turn around. It has one leg fully extended, anchoring it in the breech position. I thanked the doctor for trying.
Then the room began to empty out, and after a few minutes it was just me and Ben in there, alone. And I was left with the reality that I will have to schedule a c-section in 2 weeks. And there went the rest of my plans. And so here we are, two days later. I am still working through my feelings. Some people have said to me "Remember, the only thing that matters is a healthy baby." I get frustrated by this. I am this baby's mother... OF COURSE the most important thing to me is the health of my baby. But this baby is coming out of my body, and so my experience is inextricably linked to the way in which my baby is birthed. I have a vested interest in how this goes, and I deserve some time to grieve the loss of the experience that I hoped for. A c-section is not the end of the world, but it is also not a cut and dry experience. It is major abdominal surgery, and it is often a much more difficult recovery. And it means giving up certain things, like immediate skin to skin contact, and the ability to get up and move around after delivery. I don't need advice on the c-section, I just need some space to process my disappointment and the freedom to move forward at my own pace.
I am adjusting to the idea of it all. I am working on accepting it. I am learning that, despite how "ruined" my plans get I can trust that the Lord is good. He was with me during my diabetes test, calming my fears. He was with me that day my blood pressured soared. I felt his presence as I waited in fear of what would happen to my baby, and rejoiced that He protected us both. And He was with me on Friday, holding my hand and telling me I could withstand the ECV procedure. And He is with me right now as I write this, working out my feelings and comforting me in the loss of my dreams.
I can't wait to meet my baby. The one who has caused me all this trouble, but whom I love with my whole heart already! The one who daily reminds me, "Many are the plans in a [mother's] heart, but it is the Lord's purpose that prevails."
But today I am 37 weeks pregnant, with just 2 more weeks to go, so I thought I would get one pregnancy blog in before we bring home our new son or daughter. Be prepared, it's a long one, 9 months in the making!
It's amazing to me how much our children teach us, even before they are born. I have been learning so many lessons from this little one already. But I think the hardest, and most important one is that "many are the plans in a [mother's] heart, but it is the Lord's purpose that prevails" (Proverbs 19:21).
I have never shared Abby's birth story, but her story has a lot to do with how I wanted the birth of this little one to happen. I had a difficult pregnancy with Abby, including gestational diabetes and preeclampsia. I remember walking into the doctor's office when I was 37 weeks pregnant with Abby, and my blood pressure was so dangerously high that I had to be induced immediately. I was blessed with a wonderful team of doctors who took excellent care of me, but there were many frightening moments during labor, including a time when Abby's heart rate was so low I was almost wheeled into an emergency c-section. At the last second Abby's heart rate came back into the normal range, and I was able to avoid surgery. But my epidural caused me severe back pain for weeks following her birth, and I struggled with my blood pressure for 3 months. I am so blessed that she was born healthy, beautiful, and ready to take on the world. But I was scared about what the next pregnancy would bring.
This little one made his or her presence known to me right away. I remember the moment I knew I was pregnant. Ben and I had been working on a number of home projects, and one afternoon in August I was taping up our large bay window so that I could paint the trim. I was standing on the window seat working in the hot afternoon sun, and all of the sudden nausea hit me like a strong wave. And that's when I knew... I was only 3 weeks along! The doctor couldn't believe I had morning sickness so early on. But this baby has always had plans of its own.
I had much worse morning sickness those first 12 weeks than I ever did with Abby. Food was my enemy, and there was a period of about 3 weeks where all I could stand to eat were Ramen Noodles. But once those first 12 weeks passed, I started to get my energy back and feel much better. I knew my next hurdle would be taking the test for gestational diabetes. I had a big scare when I took the test while pregnant with Abby. It caused my sugar to go so high I had to be admitted to the hospital for a day until I was stabilized. Needless to say, I was very nervous to take the glucose test again.
It was around the week that I had to take my glucose test that I started praying and asking the Lord to help redeem the experience I had with my first pregnancy. I desperately wanted things to be different this time. I remember the day I received the call from the nurse telling me I had passed the glucose test. I didn't have diabetes this time!! I literally shouted for joy on the phone. I felt like a weight had been lifted from me, and I was convinced that this meant the rest of the pregnancy would be "easy". I knew that with no diabetes I was considered "low risk" for the first time! And so I began to think a lot about what I wanted in terms of my labor and delivery. Many are the plans in a mother's heart....
Part of what made my experience with Abby so difficult was the intense pain that my epidural caused for weeks after her birth. It made bonding with her and caring for her so much more difficult, and made my recovery much slower. Because of this and a few other reasons, I made the decision that I wanted to have a drug-free birth this time around. I knew it would be difficult and painful, but I hoped that it would also make my recovery faster and easier. Once I knew this is what I wanted, I began to look into the possibility of switching practices, as part of me just wanted to get as far away from the difficult memories of labor with Abby in the hospital and do something entirely different. I found a wonderful birth center, with very experienced midwives. I called and talked to them about my history and hopes for this birth, and they were extremely supportive and shared my vision entirely. They had a facility that felt like home. It was such a calm and soothing place! But they told me that they could only accept me into their practice if my blood pressure stayed low, and everything else remained 100% low risk.
I had my first "official" appointment with them at 30 weeks. I walked into their office excited about my new birth plan, and so excited to have the hope of a completely different experience this time. I sat down and in the exam room, and started my appointment. And that's when all of my plans started to unravel. When the midwife took my blood pressure that day it was 155/110. Dangerous to me and the baby. I laid there being monitored for 2 hours while the midwives discussed what would need to happen next. They told me that unfortunately, with my history, and my current blood pressure, that I could not be their patient and could not deliver my baby with them. They called my original doctor, who asked that I be sent to his office immediately. When I arrived at his office, with Abby in tow, he made it very clear that he was angry I had switched practices, and that he felt that it was a very poor choice on my part. I was crushed. Not only did I have to give up my plans for birth at the birth center, I now had an OB who was frustrated with me and felt that I had made a choice that could have compromised my health. After another few hours of monitoring, my blood pressure came down enough that I was allowed to go home. I had to start blood pressure medication immediately. And I was now high risk. Again.
It took many weeks to feel "normal" again after that. Blood pressure medication works by slowing everything down in your body. If I thought I was tired before I started that medication, fatigue had a whole new meaning after I began the medication. It was frustrating, as it made it very hard to care for Abby, and I had to rely on the help of family and friends to get through those first few weeks adjusting to the medicine.
But by about 33 weeks, I started to feel much better, and my body began to get used to the effects of the medicine. One of the side effects of the medicine and blood pressure problems is that it can cause growth restriction of the baby. In other words, it can affect how much blood the baby gets and cause it to be born underweight. In order to make sure that this did not happen, I was scheduled for weekly ultrasounds and monthly visits with a high risk specialist. Each week I went in, my baby looked great! As a matter of fact, it was growing a week or two ahead of schedule. In other words, perfectly healthy. I was so thankful! And although I was told I had a 50/50 chance of developing preeclampsia, each week that passed my blood pressure looked better and better. Other than needing medication, there was no other intervention needed. My doctor was very happy with my progress, and said that this was the best case scenario for someone with high blood pressure. He said that he would induce me at 39 weeks to avoid the possible complications that can occur in the last few weeks of pregnancy for someone with high blood pressure, but other than that no other intervention was necessary. And so other than having to give up my plans of birthing at the birth center, I was again looking forward to the drug-free birth that I had wanted so badly this time. I started researching ways to manage pain in the hospital, and how to work with the hospital facility and staff to create a supportive environment for my experience. Many are the plans in a mother's heart...
One of the "upsides" to being high risk meant that I had the opportunity to see my little one every week on an ultrasound. I got to see him or her kicking, and making faces, and playing with it's little fingers every week! My ultrasounds started at 30 weeks, and each week my baby's head was way high up in my ribs and it's precious feet were kicking me for all it's worth down in my bladder. As the weeks crept by, I kept waiting for the baby to flip head down. About 85% are head down by about 32 weeks, and by 36 weeks 97% of babies are head down. Less than 3% are still in the head-up, or breech, position by full term (37 weeks). And so the ultrasound technician assured me at 33 weeks I had nothing to worry about, that the baby would turn. And then she said it again at 34 weeks..... and 35 weeks... And every week the baby was still head up. I started researching methods to make my baby turn. There are a lot of "exercises" out there guaranteed to help your baby flip. Head stands off your couch, laying upside down on an ironing board at 45 degrees, crawling around on all fours multiple times a day. I tried them all. At my 36 week appointment, I waited for the news I already knew was coming. My baby was still breech, of that I was sure. I can feel the head sticking in my ribs like the horn of a saddle if I lean over too much. The doctor told me that I had two options. Either I could let him try to manually turn my baby from the outside. Or I could schedule a c-section for 39 weeks in the hope that the baby would turn on its own before then. I had already done my research, and knew that manually turning the baby was my last hope at achieving the birth I so wanted for me and my baby.
I agreed to the procedure. It's called an external cephalic version (ECV). So on this past Friday, I was admitted to the hospital at 11:45am for my ECV. I was terrified. I knew a few people who had had the procedure done, and it sounded like one of the scariest things I had ever heard of. The doctor actually pushes on your belly as hard as he can from the outside, pushing and pulling the baby into the correct position. The baby is monitored the entire time to make sure that the pushing and pulling does not cause any distress. And it is done in a room on the c-section floor in case an emergency occurs. Thankfully, my doctor suggested that I have an epidural for the procedure as it helps to relax the muscles and make the turning easier. And although I was terrified of the back pain that resulted from my last epidural, I knew that I would not be able to withstand the procedure without it.
The anesthesia team came in and administered my epidural around 2pm. Within a few minutes of inserting it, I knew something was wrong. My ears had a strange pressure in them, I was unable to hear, and I felt like I would pass out. The team checked my epidural, and found that it had migrated into my blood vessel. My entire left side was numb, and my right side still had full feeling. I had to be lifted up, the epidural completely removed, and a new one inserted. The doctors and nurses were whispering frantically to each other behind me, no one telling me what was happening. They just kept saying "I can't believe it migrated to her blood vessel, this is so rare, this is so rare." I remember asking them "Am I going to be ok??" Thankfully they were able to fix the problem, and it took a few more minutes, but I was stabilized and they were able to numb my right side. At this point I just kept praying "Lord, after all of this PLEASE let this work. PLEASE turn my baby."
My OB came in, and with help from another doctor the procedure began. For about 15 minutes I laid there, eyes closed, holding the hand of a nurse but in my mind it was the hand of Jesus. I can't really describe the procedure adequately. They literally lifted the baby up in my stomach and began to turn it around, in a forward roll kind of motion. I just kept my eyes closed, breathing deeply, and praying. It hurt at first, but as I prayed, the pain went away and I was able to focus on staying relaxed. They got the baby turned about 3/4 of the way, but it stopped there. They tried for about 15 minutes, and each time they turned it a little, it would turn back. As the minutes passed by, I began to realize that it wasn't going to work. That my baby wasn't going to turn. The doctor let go of my stomach and looked at me. I could tell how sorry he was. He said one of the baby's feet was positioned so low that it would not budge, and was the reason the baby can't turn around. It has one leg fully extended, anchoring it in the breech position. I thanked the doctor for trying.
Then the room began to empty out, and after a few minutes it was just me and Ben in there, alone. And I was left with the reality that I will have to schedule a c-section in 2 weeks. And there went the rest of my plans. And so here we are, two days later. I am still working through my feelings. Some people have said to me "Remember, the only thing that matters is a healthy baby." I get frustrated by this. I am this baby's mother... OF COURSE the most important thing to me is the health of my baby. But this baby is coming out of my body, and so my experience is inextricably linked to the way in which my baby is birthed. I have a vested interest in how this goes, and I deserve some time to grieve the loss of the experience that I hoped for. A c-section is not the end of the world, but it is also not a cut and dry experience. It is major abdominal surgery, and it is often a much more difficult recovery. And it means giving up certain things, like immediate skin to skin contact, and the ability to get up and move around after delivery. I don't need advice on the c-section, I just need some space to process my disappointment and the freedom to move forward at my own pace.
I am adjusting to the idea of it all. I am working on accepting it. I am learning that, despite how "ruined" my plans get I can trust that the Lord is good. He was with me during my diabetes test, calming my fears. He was with me that day my blood pressured soared. I felt his presence as I waited in fear of what would happen to my baby, and rejoiced that He protected us both. And He was with me on Friday, holding my hand and telling me I could withstand the ECV procedure. And He is with me right now as I write this, working out my feelings and comforting me in the loss of my dreams.
I can't wait to meet my baby. The one who has caused me all this trouble, but whom I love with my whole heart already! The one who daily reminds me, "Many are the plans in a [mother's] heart, but it is the Lord's purpose that prevails."
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