My Birth Story
My birth story definitely didn’t go as planned – I mean, like at all. The hospital that I was supposed to deliver at had us fill out paperwork describing our ideal birth plan. Mine went something like this:
I would like to have a Doula by our side to be our advocate and I want to have enough pain medication so that I don’t feel it. Seriously, I don’t want to feel it. I’d prefer to have a vaginal delivery, but I understand that things don’t always go as planned, so of course I’ll have a c-section if the doctors believe that it’s best for both baby and I. This is my first pregnancy and it took a lot to get us here, so I will have questions and will need good support from all staff.
Well, that’s not at all how my birth story went. You see, I neglected to mention that I wanted to deliver at full term. Sha yeah, who would have thought, I mean, I thought that would go without saying. I just assumed that I would deliver at the 40-42 week marker. Well, I was wrong.
Back up to August 2nd, 2017 – my 28 week appointment (I was actually 29 weeks, because my doctors at the time were incompetent, but I will share more on that in another post) where I was to go in for my Glucose Test. You know, the one where you drink that sugary orange drink and then have your blood drawn an hour later? That’s the one. Well, I did it and later found out that it all came back great. But, before we got those results, my routine urine test came back in bad shape, real bad shape.
I remember a nurse peeking her head in the room, just as we were about to say goodbye to the doctor and head home to meet the concrete guys that were currently laying our patio for my upcoming baby shower. The nurse looked at the doctor and said, “protein plus 4” (referring to my urine sample) and then the doctors face changed. She remained calm and said, “I’m going to have you go over to Labor and Delivery where they can do tests that we can’t.” We were like, ok, sure. We told the concrete guys that we’d only be gone for an hour, so we hoped that it would be quick. We get to labor and delivery and the front desk lady shows us to a triage room with a bed and a gown. Hmmm…. okay. She asks that I change into the gown and lay down. At this point I really didn’t think too much of it, because I’m generally not a skeptical person. I believed that it was all procedure and carried on with what she asked of me. The next thing that I know, the room erupted, as my husband describes it. And it did! There were nurses poking me and hooking me up to all sorts of meds. Then comes a shot… in my butt. The nurses were explaining as they were going, but of course my mind was still stuck trying to figure out if they got the right patient or not. I wasn’t fully absorbing everything at that point, but I tried. It wasn’t until a new doctor came in and said that I wasn’t leaving the hospital until I delivered the baby. Wait, what?! No no no, you’re mistaken… I’m only 29 weeks pregnant, so this is all wrong. This is the moment when my strong husband, who in 14 years, I’ve only seen cry three times, completely broke down. He had to leave the room for a moment, because clearly he absorbed what was being said a lot quicker than I did. I’m still laying there believing that they are mistaken and we will be going home soon. We have the concrete guys at the house, and they expect me back in an hour. It was then, that the doctor repeated that I had severe preeclampsia. Yeah, I’ve heard of it. My mom had preeclampsia with me, but she didn’t have to deliver early. What’s going on?! Apparently preeclampsia and severe preeclampsia have major differences. One being that I need to deliver now, not in 10 weeks.
So, she explained that the shot given to me, yeah the one in my butt, was one of two very important steroid shots that would help develop my baby’s lungs. I’m so thankful for those shots, because they made a world of difference. When Ron came back in, he had a few questions for the doctor, which she answered to the best of her ability. It looked like the baby was coming. One thing we did have a choice in, was which hospital we wanted to be transferred to. Keep in mind that the hospital that we were currently at was chosen because it was 5 minutes from our home and brand new with state-of-the-art birthing suites. This is where we were planning to give birth and now we have to choose another hospital because they aren’t equip to handle a premature birth? And it’s farther away? Since I didn’t have time to research my two new options, I naturally chose the next closest one, but then asked the doc her opinion on which was best. She said that the one that’s farther away has a Level 4 NICU – the best in the region and they can pick me up 2 hours sooner than the closer one can. So, we said okay, take us there. Mind you, at this time, I’ve heard of a NICU, but didn’t really know much about it. All I knew was that I needed my baby to have the best chance that he could get and this seemed like the right choice. The doc made the call and they sent Flight for Life to transport me ASAP.
Something else that I learned, Flight for Life also has a ground crew – thank goodness, because how much would a helicopter cost?!? Before I knew it, the ambulance arrived and they loaded me up, catheter and all. Oh yeah, I forgot to mention that I got one of those, as well as loads of magnesium. So, I was feeling pretty crumby. The ground crew was so kind to me and set high expectations for my future care to come. I have never heard of the hospital that we were going to, so I had no idea where we were going. All I remember seeing through those two small back windows of the ambulance, were tree tops, a few underpasses and then buildings. As far as I knew, I was in another state.
As soon as I arrived at the new hospital, it was like we were all speaking the same language. I mean, they listened to me and provided answers!! Who would’ve thought?! My experience with my previous doctors/hospital consisted of me telling them how much pain I was in, them telling me that I was over-exaggerating and then running expensive and useless tests. I was finally in a place where I could describe all of my pains and they had answers! Holy smokes, for the entire second trimester, I’ve been suffering from severe preeclampsia and my liver and kidneys were shutting down. Those where my pains that I was feeling. I told you! I wasn’t faking it! Anyhoo, the nurses rolled my swollen self to the ultrasound room where my new doctor checked the baby and asked how I was feeling. Ron arrived shortly after with bags that he threw together real quick (because we didn’t have our hospital bags packed, yet). After that they wheeled me into Room #316 where I would remain for the next week holding my baby in.
I’ve always thought of myself as a healthy person before going through fertility. I’ve never been in the hospital before, so being admitted and being told that I was “very sick” was a lot to swallow. I was admitted on a Wednesday and the next day the doctors wanted to deliver the baby. We were so scared! We had so much that we wanted to do, too. We wanted a birth photographer present, we wanted our families in the waiting area, we wanted a cord blood kit… Ron thought fast and rush ordered a cord blood kit to save the stem cells from Los Angeles, but they couldn’t get it to us until Thursday evening around 10:30 pm. My swelling and blood pressures were worsening by the hour, but the docs agreed to wait for the kit. Next thing we know, the kit is delayed and can’t come until 1:30am Friday. What were we going to do?! We need that kit if we’re going to have a preemie. We need to save his stem cells! The doctors again agreed to wait and prepped for the baby to come. Then, by some act of God, my levels and blood pressure stabilized. Waiting for that kit bought us time. We were able to keep the little babe in there another day longer. Each day counted and I was willing to stay in there until my due date if I had to – stuck in that bed until October 14th – I would’ve done it. We had a couple more close calls like that over the course of a week where we thought we would have to deliver. But, we made it a whole week, we were able to keep him in my womb for an entire week all while fighting to keep both of us alive.
I had no idea just how severe of a situation that we were in. Not only did I have SEVERE preeclampsia, I also had the HELLP Syndrome. My body was swollen beyond belief, my blood pressures where at dangerous highs putting me at risk for seizures and a stroke. My kidneys and liver were shutting down. But, I had to hold this baby in to allow him time to grow. I would do whatever it took. I didn’t care that the longer the baby was inside, the sicker I got – it was worth it.
On August 9th, exactly one week since we had been admitted, Ron needed a break. He decided to go on a walk and we had decided to have him pick up some Voodoo donuts as a thank you to all of our AMAZING nurses and doctors. I was going to take a nap while he was away. Next thing I know, the doctor comes in and says that the baby’s vitals were dipping low. We needed to deliver in 30 minutes. Thirty minutes?! But, my husband isn’t here. I text Ron right away and he ran back with a box of donuts in one hand and a 5 gallon bucket of donuts (yes, they have those) in the other. As soon as Ron arrived, they handed him his scrubs and it was go-time! We didn’t have time to call family or anything. They had to get this baby out. They wheeled me down the hall to the operating room and had Ron wait in the hall while they prepped me.
Next thing I know, I’m laying on the thin table (it felt as if my swollen body had swallowed up that toothpick of a table, haha) shivering as the anesthesiologist gave me some more meds. I was shivering so bad – this happens when I’m nervous – that they wrapped my upper body in warm blankets. One of my fears going into having a c-section, was that I would feel them cutting. And no, this was not an irrational fear… I didn’t know how to describe it at the time, but apparently I metabolize meds very very quickly. I’ve always reacted differently to meds in past minor procedures that I’ve had, so I was worried. The anesthesiologist assured me that I’d be fine. She said it was a common fear. I knew better. She then did a wet cloth test and I admit, where she did the test, I was numb. I felt her pressure, but not the cold of the cloth – in that particular spot. Next thing I know – OUUUUUUCH! I yelp, “That’s sharp that’s sharp! I can feel that! I can feel the scalpel!” The doctor stopped the cut. The anesthesiologist quickly became angered, as if I was saying that she didn’t do her job, and told me that I couldn’t feel the pain, only the pressure. So, the doctor continued the cut and I yelped again! I felt it. At that moment, both my husband and the amazing medical student told her that I felt it. Ron was videotaping and the medical student was holding my hand. They both knew I wasn’t lying. So, the anesthesiologist injected me with something else that made me semi-pass out – I was in and out. Remember, I don’t seem to react the way that I’m supposed to to meds, for some reason. I was supposed to be “out all of the way” but I felt them pull me open and yank my little babe from my body; this time without pain. It was the saddest feeling that I can ever remember feeling. That’s the best way that I can describe the feeling. It was like they yanked him from me fast. I wanted him back. I remember hearing him squeak a little as they rushed him to his little table where he had a whole team working on him to ensure that he was okay. My husband was so upset with the anesthesiologist because she told him that I was out and just as she said that, I said, “I have something in my throat.” I felt as if I was choking. That’s when I was told that she gave me more meds and then sucked blood from my throat. Ahem… Anyway, after they checked the baby, they brought him over to me for me to see him, but by then, I was already all of the way out because the anesthesiologist finally gave me enough meds. So, I missed him! I feel robbed. I really missed out on the opportunity to see him right away. Little did I know, I wouldn’t be able to see him for another 25 hours and 10 min. He was rushed to the NICU and I was taken to the PACU. When I woke up, the nurse asked if I could wiggle my feet – yup. Then she told Ron that I wasn’t supposed to be able to do that, yet. Then she asked if I could lift my butt – yup. Mind you, I just had a c-section and I could do this. She was shocked, but there was nothing to be done. The meds were wearing off quickly.
And now I had to wait 25 hours and 10 min. to see my baby. I was still on magnesium, so I needed to give it time. Thank all-that-is-good for FaceTime. My husband was able to FaceTime me from the NICU so that I could at least lay eyes on my precious baby boy. Ron said that as soon as I started talking on FaceTime, that Reacher looked up at the phone because he recognized my voice!! That made me cry; I lost it. I had to wait for the epidural and magnesium to wear off, that’s why I had to wait so long to see him. It was the longest day of my life, but as soon as the clock said that I could go, I was outta there. I had the nurse ready with a wheelchair so no time was wasted. The nurse asked if I wanted to shower and cleanup, and I said, “no thank you, please hook my pee bag to the chair and lets roll!” My husband ran me 1/4 mile through the hospital – literally from one end to the other – to see my baby for the first time. Better yet, I was able to hold him for one uninterrupted hour. It was the best hour of my life so far!
So, needless to say, this was not the birth plan that I had in mind. We weren’t delivering at the hospital near home, we didn’t have our hospital bags packed (because we thought we had 10 more weeks), we didn’t have a birth photographer and the actual birth wasn’t what I had thought. But, it’s our story and ours alone. We all made it out alive and safe and that’s truly all that I care about. I now understand when people say that they would do it all over again. I don’t necessarily believe that I would forget the pain, but I do believe that I would push all of that aside and not care about the pain. Reacher is worth it.
Remember the medical student? She was amazing. She actually acted as our birth photographer! She was so sweet to give us the gift of photos that we otherwise would’ve never had. So, in the end, it all worked out. I was in the hospital for two weeks and my sweet baby boy was in the hospital for 42 days (49 if you count him still in the womb while I was admitted). It was a long road but worth traveling. I feel so blessed!