Saturday, June 30 was pretty uneventful. M and I spent the day relaxing, doing last minute chores around the house, and having movie marathons. We went to bed around 930pm, and as M says, he woke up around midnight on July 1 to me screaming "oh God, it's coming out of me, it won't stop...my water just broke". I mean, it BROKE. EVERYWHERE. Five towels worth, through sheets, blankets and waterproof mattress covers. At first, it looked clear, but then as it continued and we got a better look....it was evident that it was murky- there was meconium (i.e. baby poop) in my amniotic fluid. That's an automatic admission to the hospital under my doctor's orders- after a call to my doula we confirmed that. We showered, packed and were on the road around 1 am, and contractions had started pretty heavy but far apart on the way to the hospital.
After being admitted to triage around 1:30am on July 1, they did an examination and confirmed I was still only 1.5 cm dilated. The directions from the doctor were to insert a Foley catheter into my uterus, blow up the balloon, and wait until it fell out. When it fell out I would be 3 cm dilated and hopefully on my way into active labor. It felt like forever- waiting to leave triage and be admitted to labor and delivery. I was very nervous and M had to calm me down. The contractions were still far apart and not too intense, but noticeably stronger given that my membranes had ruptured. Doula Nikki had arrived and was waiting for us to go up to labor and delivery. She is a very important person in this birth story, someone almost as important as M.
Once I was checked into labor and delivery, and we were all set up, the nurse put in the catheter and hooked me up to machines to monitor fetal heartbeat around 2am. From there, time seemed to stand still. The contractions were intense and coming closer together now, but were still manageable. I labored through the night into the morning, and around 9am the doctors and nurses came in to check me. At first, they said I hadn't dilated at all, but then realized the catheter had fallen out and I was 3cm dilated. Thank goodness!
From that point, it was up to my body to continue on that path with the hopes of ending up with the natural childbirth I had dreamed of. Unfortunately, the doctor who was on call that night didn't want to let me do it on my own, given the fact that my water had broken and there was meconium in it. They get nervous after 24 hours when your water breaks, because risk of infection goes up. It was decided I would be put on Pitocin to make my contractions become stronger and closer together so I could dilate more quickly. The doctor on call was not my doctor, and was clearly and interventionalist. Upon meeting me, the first words out of his mouth were "Don't be ashamed of the epidural. I don't like to see people in pain". I wanted to knock the smile clean off his face. This is exactly the kind of vibe I did NOT want in my labor room. From that point on, we referred to him as Dr. A-hole.
So around 10am I was hooked up to yet another machine and put on Pitocin to speed up my labor. Again, more interventions that I didn't want, but I thought that I could do it and I just had to get to 10cm. I labored through the rest of the morning and afternoon on Pitocin, dilating to 4cm then to 5cm. The contractions were on top of each other, there was no break in between. I breathed through them and dealt with the pain as best I could. Doula Nikki was the most amazing birth coach I could have ever hoped for. Between Nikki and M, I truly had the best birth team anyone could ask for. She was so comforting and was able to make me feel like I was in control, even when I clearly wasn't. Everything about her aura made me feel at peace and there is no one who I wanted in that labor room more than her. I am forever indebted to her for her services during one of the most vulnerable times in my life. I know M feels the same way.
I must have been in labor for another 10 hours, and each cervical check was disappointing. After many hours I had stalled at about 5cm, and Dr. A-hole was finished bartering with me. In addition, I had developed a fever and they were afraid that the baby would have a fever too because of the long labor and meconium. But above all else, I was told that the baby was "malpositioned", meaning that he was stuck behind my pubic bone and would not descend into the birth canal. As for Dr. A-hole, I thought maybe he would insist on an Epidural and cranking up the Pitocin to further speed up the labor, but that was no longer an option. He wanted to C- Section me right away and was not going to take no for an answer. I was resigned to that fact, and felt that I tried my hardest to labor and deliver without medical intervention. It was literally time to take my medicine (the spinal) and get wheeled into surgery. M told me numerous times during this process that I was his hero (with tears in his eyes) and I will never, ever forget that. I know I made him proud; I tried to give us the labor and birth how nature intended. It was not in the cards for me. M called our parents and they came to the hospital since I was going to be in surgery.
A little after 6pm they wheeled me into the OR and gave me my spinal. I have to admit that it was a relief after 17 hours of horrible pain to finally be numb from the waist down. I was so exhausted and had almost been awake for 36 hours. They prepped me for surgery and I could not stop shaking from the hormones and the pain medicine. They kept putting warm blankets on me but I wasn't shaking because I was cold. I was sweating, and I just wanted them off of me. They started the surgery and I could hear everything. I felt the pressure and I could hear the doctors talking. M was right beside me the whole time and holding my hand, because they were strapped to boards. I finally heard my baby cry when they announced they had pulled him out of me. I couldn't see him at first, only hear him. The doctor said "he's peeing all over the place!". I thought, I hope he pees right on Dr. A-hole. They passed Luke to the other doctors, that aspirated his lungs because of the meconium. They took his Apgar scores, which were 5 at 1 minute and 9 at 5 minutes.
Luke Michael was born at 6:33pm on July 1, weighing in at 8 lbs 8 oz and 21 inches long. This is our first picture together. I was shaking, he was crying. Not what I had in mind AT ALL for our first meeting... we didn't even get any skin to skin time. They whisked him away, swaddled him and gave him to M. At least they gave him to M. I didn't want him to worry about me, I just wanted my baby to be in the arms of his daddy if he couldn't be in mine.
I started to feel sick when they were closing me up. Ironically, I threw up the anti- nausea medicine they gave me before surgery and continued to shake violently. I started seeing spots and told the doctors I wasn't feeling well. It wasn't until afterwards that I was told my blood pressure had dropped and I had lost a lot of blood. So much blood loss that I would later need two units of blood in a transfusion. M said that as they were massaging my uterus after I was stitched up, and he saw blood shoot out from down below...and the doctors all looked at each other with panic. They kept all of the doctors there until I stabilized, and in case, as they said, they had to "go back in". After another half an hour of watching me, and saying I was stable, they wheeled me into recovery. Usually people are in recovery for 2 hours, I was there for 4 while they monitored my vitals and would not let me drink anything. I saw a soda in the corner that they gave to M, and after the doctors left he gave me some of it. I drank the whole thing, not even caring.... just wanting to feel the liquid in my mouth. I was so parched, that's the thing I remember most.
Once in recovery, after I was still stable for a couple of hours, I begged to have doula Nikki come up and help me get Luke to latch. I wanted to breastfeed so badly after we got off to such a rough start. Nikki was able to come up and Luke was a champ. He clamped on right away and started nursing. I was so happy that finally something had gone right. After Nikki left, our parents were able to come up to visit us. It was so great to see them and we got some pictures as they saw their grandson for the first time.
We finally got released from recovery around 10:30pm on July 1, almost 24 hours after my water broke. We were transferred to the maternity ward and were asked if we wanted to have the baby taken to the nursery. I was adamantly against it initially, but after almost 48 hours of no sleep I conceded on the condition that they would bring him to the room every time he cried to be nursed. Every two hours or so the first night, they did bring him in. I nursed him the best I could, and he did a great job...he was a pro! I did not like having him in the nursery- again, not how I imagined our first night together.
The next day, my parents came to visit and brought us lunch. I had been up most of the night in pain, and on Percocet pain medicine. The pain meds did not agree with me, and I threw up most of the day for those first few days until they found another medicine that was better. I hate taking asprin, much less being on those pain meds where I don't know how they impact breastfeeding. Everything about the situation felt so medical, which was everything I was against. Later that day, I was informed that my hemoglobin was low, and my white blood cell count was high, indicating an infection. I also had started to get a fever again, so I was pumped full of antibiotics, on top of being told I should have a blood transfusion because I was not recovering well from the surgery. I ended up getting a blood transfusion a few days later, and feeling much better afterwards. I am still freaked out to this day to have else's blood in my body.
The first three days in the hospital were a blur of doctors, a constant change in nurses, and people trying to tell me everything that was wrong with me. For a healthy woman, I have never felt so sick as I did in that hospital. I didn't know if I was going to get out of there alive. The second night in the hospital, we sent the baby to the nursery again because of my pain and nausea...again, on the condition that they would bring him to me every time he wanted to nurse. One of the last times they brought him to me, close to the morning hour, he became inconsolable and would not nurse. He was having a hard time breathing and when the nurse took his vitals, he had a fever again and something they call "rapid breathing", which means his breaths per minute were >100 (normal is 30-80 for a newborn). They gave him 15 minutes to get control of himself, and if he couldn't, they were taking him to the NICU. Of course, he could not, so off he went...taken from me at two days old. I was so sick I could not even accompany them to the NICU for testing-M had to go with them.
After an hour or two (I was in and out of sleep and pain) M came back and updated me on all of the tests that had been done on Luke. He had been tested for everything under the sun, including a spinal to test for meningitis. The spinal culture was a 72 hour culture, so Luke had to stay in the NICU until the 72 hours was up. Those three days were the most torturous of our lives. After about one day, it was clear that Luke was just fine- no more fever and breathing had stabilized. However, he had to stay in that horrible place as a matter of protocol. The first night he was in there he was under a heat warmer wearing nothing but his diaper. He looked completely miserable and sweaty. He was NOT a premature baby, he was almost 9 lbs for God's sake! The nurse after that shift took him out of the warmer, saying it was unnecessary. Well no sh*t!! I was furious that he was made to be so uncomfortable for so long just because that's what they always do.
The three days he spent in the NICU were filled with every three hour feedings and fending off NICU nurses. Luke did such a good job feeding in even the worst circumstances. The nurses were horrible- each nurse had a different set of instructions for us on how to feed, when to feed, etc...we didn't know which way was up!
We usually left the NICU feeling like horrible parents, and on more that one occasion I was almost hysterical and demanding to speak to doula Nikki. She supported me during those horrible days, reminding me that my baby was healthy and everything would work out. Towards the end of the NICU stay, it was noted by one of the nurses that Luke's blood sugar had dropped from their NICU threshold, which is very very different from the rest of of the babies on the normal floor. My milk had not come in yet, so Luke was getting very little but it was just enough for his little tummy. The first week of life their little tummies only hold 5-7mL of liquid at a time. But the nurses weren't satisfied with that, they wanted me to give him a bottle of formula or else "he would have to stay for a few more days to get his sugar monitored". Which, by the way, had NOTHING to do with why he was previously admitted to the NICU. M gave him a bottle of formula in order to just "play the game". I had to leave, I couldn't watch my baby be force fed some disgusting formula, only for him to spit up most of it afterwards because IT WAS TOO MUCH FOR HIM TO PUT IN HIS STOMACH. Single worst moment of my life so far. Heart breaking, upsetting and caused me to be inconsolable most of that night. The only good thing was that he passed his next blood sugar test and the paperwork was being drafted for him to be discharged.
Luke and I were discharged on the same day, Friday July 6, six days after he was born. Discharge day was a happy day- M and I took showers, packed our bags, and got ready to take Luke home. We went down to the NICU with our car seat and couldn't wait to finally have him free of the wires and medications. He had lost a pound of his birth weight, and looked more sick leaving the NICU than being admitted to it. We just couldn't wait to get him home, safe, and in a routine. The hospital is no place for sick people. We put him in his car seat and the boy who pretty much hadn't cried the entire time he was in the hospital wailed inconsolably the entire trip from the NICU to the parking lot. WAILED. People stopped and stared it was so upsetting. It was also almost 100 degrees out that day and waiting for the car to cool down seemed like forever. After we finally got him in the car, I got in the back with Luke to try to console him.
As soon as we started moving, he stopped. And I started. I was so emotional and so glad to be free of those NICU nurses that I cried hysterically the entire car ride home while Luke just slept next to me. Poor M didn't know what to do with us. Talk about being a hero- my husband is MY hero. From the day Luke was born, he had two patients to deal with. We were both sick , and tired, and just so overwhelmed from the week's events.
I would do it all again in a HEARTBEAT because I have never known so much love. I love him so much, I could not imagine our lives without him. He has brought us closer as a couple and going through these trials made us stronger than ever. My little man has so much love in his life, there is nothing that we wouldn't do for him.
He's our IVF miracle.
Now, only 18 more years to go...
