Ramble Ramble

*Disclaimer: This post is a continuation from yesterday, and will discuss my delivery. I’m not so much for the crazy sharing, so it won’t be graphic and gross, but if you’re not into the stories of this sort, be forewarned. Also, it’s long. What can I tell you–I had a lot to say*

I did not want a c-section. It was the one thing I had talked about throughout my pregnancy as not wanting. But there seemed to be this perfect storm of reasons leading me that way. And my doctor is sitting there saying, look, we can wait some more if you want but we’ve been waiting at the same place for hours and there’s been no change. You can wait but he’s not going to change position. You can wait but you’re stuck and we’ve spent hours trying to get you unstuck to no avail.

My first instinct was to tell her “let’s wait”. Let’s just wait one more hour with the pitocin and let’s see if anything changes, and then we’ll talk about a c-section. I kept thinking to myself, surely things will change if we just wait a little longer. The baby isn’t in danger, I’m not in danger, surely this is going to happen if we just wait.  Everything was moving along so well before, surely things will pick back up again. But the more we talked–to the doctor, to my mom, to each other–the more that came to seem like wishful thinking. I had been stuck at the same point for hours, my baby wasn’t in a good position for a vaginal birth (in a couple of ways), and because of the epidural, I couldn’t get up and move around to try and move him–though by that time, he was already engaged, so I don’t think he would have moved anyway. I finally said yes to the c-section.

I wasn’t scared of the surgery–I knew what to expect, I knew my doctor was excellent, and I knew that I was in good hands. But there was a portion of me that hated myself as they were wheeling me to the OR. I knew that now I wouldn’t get to hold  or breastfeed my baby for hours. I knew that now I wouldn’t even get to touch my baby for hours. I knew that now I would spend the time immediately after Jackson’s birth by myself in the recovery room, while my husband kept a watchful eye over our son in the nursery that only gets used for c-section babies. It broke my heart to know that I wasn’t going to get that time with him.

Turns out that everything my doctor said was right–Jackson was a big baby (with a big head and a big chest to boot), he was facing all kinds of wrong directions, and because of how he was looking, he was kind of “stuck.” I think, all things considered, the c-section was probably the right call–I’m positive that had I somehow progressed to be able to deliver him vaginally it would not have been pretty, and I’m not sure it wouldn’t have resulted in the use of forceps or vacuum extraction or a giant episiotomy or tear due to his positioning. Or all of those things. And there’s always the chance that had I not done the c-section, things would have gotten to an emergency situation.

But somehow, I still feel like a failure.  I feel like I should have fought the doctor more, or tried to do without the epidural longer, or tried to go off the epidural to be able to move around, or, or, or…something. I hate that for the first 3 hours of Jackson’s life, I was off in another room, separated from him. I hate that I didn’t get to hold him as he came into this world. I hate that I feel like it’s my fault. I hate that I’ll always wonder if I could have changed things. I hate that I feel this way, when I have a beautiful amazing little boy sleeping in the next room–why do I care so much how he got here? Why does it bother me so much?

I don’t know why, but it does bother me. Maybe it’s because of the surprise of it–things were going so well on their own for so long (or so it seemed to me). Maybe it’s because I was hoping that, even though my pregnancy didn’t live up to my expectations, my delivery would. Or maybe it’s the reverse of the women who feel judged for all-natural births. Maybe I feel like I’m being judged for taking the “easy way”–I mean lots of women have back labor, and lots of women have longer labors than mine, and lots of women deliver incorrectly positioned babies vaginally, and lots of women sacrifice to make sure the entrance of their child is “better” for the baby, not just easier for mom. Maybe it’s just one more level of the judgment and criticism that moms face that I internalized without realizing it.

I didn’t get the delivery I hoped for, and that is something that I’m having to reconcile in my mind. It in no way diminishes the kid–he’s perfect and amazing and somehow separate from the disappointment I feel about how things worked out–but it is there. Luckily, I’ve got an amazing gift out of it all that can help me with that. He’s the prize, and no matter how he got here, the end result is worth it.

*Disclaimer: This post will discuss my labor. I’m not so much for the crazy sharing, so it won’t be graphic and gross, but if you’re not into the stories of this sort, be forewarned. Also, it’s  long. What can I tell you–I wanted to get down everything.*

I was scheduled to be induced on Sunday, 9/6. I was only a week overdue, but between the pubic bone separation pain, the lovely PUPPS rash that was making me want to claw my skin off, the heat wave we were having (with no AC in my house), and the inability to walk for more than 15 minutes or so without excruciating pain, my doctor, husband and I all agreed that induction was a good idea.

But of course, Jackson had other ideas. Around 11 pm on Saturday night, I started feeling contractions. I had had one or two contractions throughout the day, but nothing time-able, nothing consistent, nothing more than what I’d had for the last week or so. That all changed with that first noticeable contraction on Saturday night. I went from practically nothing to contractions that were 1-2 minutes long, 3-5 minutes apart pretty much instantly. After an hour of that, we got everything together, got in the car, and drove the 11 miles to the hospital. To my utter dismay, we found out when we got there that I was only dilated to 1. Our hospital really suggests waiting to come in until you’re dilated to 4 or 5, so they sent us home with the instructions to “try and sleep, get some food, and come back in the morning.” Since I was already scheduled for an induction the next day, I’d either come back further along in my labor, or they’d get me further along when we came in.

Up to this point, I was “handling” my contractions. They were painful, but not excruciatingly so, and I felt like I was doing OK. But then my back labor started at the exact same time that the contractions got longer and the down time between them got shorter. All of a sudden, I felt as though someone was jabbing a searing hot knife in my spine every minute and a half. My contractions were 2-3 minutes long, with no more than 2 minutes between them. Sleep? HA! The pain came in waves that literally brought me to my knees. Who could sleep through that? Eat? Sure, because that’s easy when you feel like you’re going to vomit from the pain.

This is the part of my labor that gets hazy for me. I lost all track of time, completely consumed by pain. I tried to eat in between contractions for energy, getting a bite or maybe two in at a time. At some point I got in the shower to try and help relax and/or alleviate the pain. I guess I was in the shower or the bath for a couple of hours, though it felt to me like 20 minutes. At some point I got out of the shower, and proceeded to try and deal with the pain through every stupid position I could remember from my childbirth class. None of them worked. My husband and mom told me that I would occasionally fall asleep during the short minute to 2 minute breaks between contractions. I know there was a point where I’m pretty sure I was hyperventilating trying to breath through these contractions that were coming so rapidly. I know that there were several points where I felt positive that there was no way I could last through the night until the hospital had said I could come back. I know I said more than once “I can’t do this”.

Finally, finally, it was 6am. The hospital had said to come back at 7, but my husband figured a little early wouldn’t hurt. He was so amazing during that night, but I think he finally hit his limit of how much pain he could watch me be in. And while I was dreading the car ride back to the hospital, all I could think was “please, please, please let me be dilated enough for an epidural.”

When we got to the hospital, I was thrilled to discover that they had my room ready and waiting for me. Within minutes, they had me hooked up to monitors, and they had checked my dilation–joy of joys, I was dilated to 4. The next words out of my mouth? “Can I have an epidural yet?” An hour or so later, when my IV fluids had all gotten into my system, the anesthesiologist came to give me the epidural. Within minutes, my body was finally able to relax after hours of pretty continuous contractions.

I could feel the contractions, just as pressure and not pain. I was able to nap off and on for a few hours, getting some desperately needed sleep. And best of all, things were progressing along nicely. My water broke on its own at some point. By around 11 am, I had dilated to 7 or 8. I felt really good about how things were going, convinced I was within hours of having my little boy. Now that the back labor wasn’t crippling me, I felt nervous but confident that I could handle delivering the kid. But then, things started to change.

The first thing that happened was I went backwards in my dilation. I went from a 7 or 8 to a 6 or 7. That was pretty discouraging. At some point they put me on pitocin to make sure things kept on going. That was disappointing (I knew if I was induced I probably would have ended up on pitocin, but I thought since I had gone into labor on my own and things seemed to be going ok that I would be able to avoid it), but not the end of the world.

Finally, around 2pm, I was dilated to 9, with the baby pretty much in position to go.

And at 3pm I was dilated to 9, with the baby pretty much in position to go.

And at 4pm I was dilated to 9, with the baby pretty much in position to go.

And at 5pm I was dilated to 9, with the baby pretty much in position to go.

Throughout all of that time frame, the nurses had been adjusting my pitocin, checking the baby, checking my dilation, and talking with my doctor. And at 5pm, my nurse said, “I’m going to call the doctor to have her check you out.”

I should have known then how things would go. I should have known that the point at which the nurses aren’t confident anymore is the point at which interventions happen. But I just felt like it was so close. That if we could just get over this hump, then within hours or maybe minutes, I’d have my little boy.

When my doctor came in, she checked me and said a series of things that changed everything.

She said, “He’s in a posterior presentation.” (He was facing the wrong way–hence the back labor).

She said, “And he’s looking up, instead of chin to chest like most babies. So the smallest part of his head isn’t what’s presenting for a vaginal delivery.”

She said, “And you haven’t progressed at all, in hours, even with pitocin.”

She said, “And, he’s a big baby.”

Then she said, “I’d really strongly recommend a c-section.”

…to be continued tomorrow

Well, the waiting is almost over–I’m going to be induced tomorrow. After discussing several issues with my doctor, it was what we decided would be the best option. I’m nervous but I’m so ready to meet this kid it’s unreal. And there are some other reasons to get this kid here sooner rather than later that I’m sure I’ll talk about another time.  Suffice it to say, meeting the kid is going to be good for so many reasons.

I’m hopeful that everything will go smoothly, that my doctor’s approach to induction makes things a little less intense than some of what I’ve read, that it won’t be a horribly long experience. But mostly, I’m just excited to finally meet this guy!

Some things you might not want to hear when you’ve gone past your due date with no signs of labor coming soon:

1. This heat wave is supposed to last another 4 days!
2. Are you sure the baby’s ok? Because my sister went past her due date and (fill in horror story here).
3. Don’t you wish you hadn’t gone on maternity leave yet, now that you’re just wasting it sitting around waiting?
4. No really, are you sure the baby’s ok? Another lady I know went past her due date and (fill in different horror story here).
5. I bet you’re REALLY cranky *hahahaha*
6. My friend went 3 weeks past her due date!
7. You do know that late babies can be in danger, right? It’s called…failure to thrive or something like that? But I’m sure he’s FINE.
8. At least you get a few more days of sleep.

As always, more lists can be found over at Anna’s at abdpbt!

Today, it is 86 degrees inside my house and out–we don’t have air conditioning. I feel like my body temp is at least 15 degrees hotter than that.

Today, like every day the last week, I can’t even spend too much time on the computer because sitting in the computer chair hurts more than anything else I do.

Tomorrow is my “due date”, though I’m convinced that the little man is going to be at least a few days late, if not more.

I am hot, I am huge, I am uncomfortable in just about every manner I can imagine.

And yet, it’s not so bad. I’ve made my way to the pool the last few days to both cool off and alleviate some of the pressure of being so pregnant. I’ve got almost everything taken care of that I can take care of so that I can just sit when I’m in the house (preferably with 3 different fans on me and multiple ice packs helping to cool me off). I’ve been able to nap intermittently throughout the day, when I’m not too hot. And while I’m nervous as hell about the eventual labor and delivery that await me, I’m not stressing about it–which if you know me in real life, you know is an absolute miracle.

I don’t know who this somewhat zen person is who has taken over my (hot, swollen, uncomfortable) body, but frankly I’m kind of glad she’s here. There’s a lot going on, and if I were being my “normal” self, I’m pretty sure I’d be a raving lunatic right now.

Of course, we’ll see what happens when I go into labor!

P.S. Thank you all so much for the birthday wishes! It was a great birthday, and I loved hearing from you guys!