Dear Diary,
So I'm not sure how to start, or where in the story I should start... I guess I can give a quick back story perhaps, so understanding the labor with Seeley is more understandable.
Back story: I was induced with my daughter, Eva, at 40 weeks and 2 days. We began that lovely drug pitocen about 8:30ish, I would think, by the time we got checked all in, hooked all up and the trainee had a go at putting my IV in (she failed, but ya gotta start somewhere). I lasted roughly 3 hours before breaking down and receiving an epidural. I want to say I was terrified and scared of being a first time Mom and came in completely uneducated on pretty much everything that dealt with the whole process of birth. I remember being very solemn, worried the whole time ( Josh said he was really worried about me, I may have dealt with some baby blues and not even realized it). I began to plateau in my labor and my dilation slowed. Around 8 that evening I began to run a fever. My contractions stopped being strong enough to push Eva down. I had to have that one monitor inserted to measure my contractions' strength. So they began to up my pitocen again. Fast forward a bit around 9ish and the word c-section started to be tossed around.... ahh heck no. I willed my body to get in gear and at 10 PM I began pushing. 10:28 PM she was born, 9 lbs 1.5 oz. No gestational diabetes.
Fast forward almost two years.
When we decided to try for baby 2. I wanted a natural birth. I didn't by any means regret my birth with Eva. My nurses were phenomenal, and I, in general, just remember a nice experience. But, I knew I wanted to go natural. I wanted the beautiful, stunning, make me tear up and weep pictures! The water birth and that look of utter relief and amazement that are depicted time and again on these amazing women's faces as they hold their baby that literally just entered the world seconds before. I wanted the immediate skin to skin contact. To watch my baby root and nurse for the first time right their on my chest. The delayed umbilical cord cutting and for Josh to do it. I wanted hands off, no wires and monitors. I just wanted that experience, ya know?
I did not get that...
We decided to go to the birth center, and over all I loved all the midwives. Each spent a good portion of time each check up and talked with me, never hurried. I think I knew from the beginning my pregnancy and delivery weren't gonna pan out how I envisioned it. From the beginning I voiced my concern on not going into labor, size of the baby, etc. And the midwives the closer to the due date would ask over and over again how my labor and delivery went with Eva. Around 34 weeks I began measuring 4 weeks ahead and eventually went in for a growth ultrasound at 37 weeks, and he was measuring normal and was around 8 lbs 10 oz.
I'm gonna fast forward to week 41. I tried everything in the books to induce labor. I literally was drinking pitchers of red raspberry leaf tea, clary sage essential oil, evening primrose oil, birth ball, sex, pressure points, and in the last week black cohosh. We and the midwives, specifically Fran decided I was a good candidate for a soft induction. It's where I go to the birthing center and she would break my water. Which we did and I started contracting beautifully 30 minutes later. But it went downhill from there. My contractions weren't ever really consistent but averaged about 2 minutes apart, but became unbearably painful. I remember laying in the bed as each contraction would come and if I even moved my legs during one just piercing pain would just shoot everywhere, up through my stomach, down through my legs, and around my back. I remember Fran asking near the end of the birth center stay if I wanted to get up and walk.
My reply was something about I cant even move my legs haha. Not long after that I broke down and said I was done, I wanted an epidural. So Fran and Josh packed everything up and I barely made it to the car. I look back and giggle now because once we pulled up to labor and delivery, Josh and Fran were both running around haha. Josh ran to get a wheel chair for me and was just gonna leave the car parked on the curb *sigh* I love him. So Fran pushed/ran me into the hospital. I thought to myself at the time (Fran is probably late 50's-60's) she was too old to be running like this; seriously the woman was booking it. We made it to my room and into utter chaos, nurses were running in and out, Fran was running in and out. And I'm laying there moaning through contractions. Then the beautiful woman that would give me sweet relief arrived. I didn't care about the burning sting that I knew was a freaky long needle sliding between two vertebrates in my back or that I would need a stupid catheter or not be able to walk (I couldn't anyway) I just wanted the severe pain in my legs and my stomach to stop. As I think back on it, it may have been Seeley trying to move down... but obviously due to his size, he couldn't.
Once my epidural took hold, my sense of humor and appetite came back and uncontrollable shaking. Some kind of side effect apparently and crazy itching all over my stomach from the epidural. I had a wonderful woman there who was supposed to photograph my awesome birth center birth came with us to the hospital and her and I talked the whole time just about. I recall giving my nurses a hard time about not letting me eat or even have a popsicle. Or complain about the awful cotton mouth that no amount of water helped haha.
Then deja vu from Eva's birth began. A fever began. I tried everything to get it down, my oils on my feet and back, diffusing them, and just willing my body. Which worked a little, because it did go down, just not enough. Then my labor slowed and eventually stopped progressing. I stayed dilated at 9 cm from 5 PM to 11:30 ish PM. I remember Fran thinking he may be turned wrong and couldn't really feel "molding" on Seeley's head. And he never progressed past zero and eventually went back to -1. At 10ish Fran and the doctor that was on duty that night said if I didn't progress to 10 cm in 2 hours a c section was the last resort, they were also going to up my pitocen to get stronger contractions. Fran said that they have done everything possible to progress the labor. I asked if me getting an epidural caused the slow progression. Her reply was "No, if anything, it would've helped it with relaxing you." Midnight rolls around and instead of an awesome 10 cm I was an 8....
Apparently, if you test positive for group b strep you are more prone to develop infections, which is what happened both times in labor and my uterus was tired and just gave up... in a way I feel betrayed by my body in that sense and that it never went into labor to begin with.
I remember laying there as people began to start coming in to prep me. Telling me the devastating news that not only would I be cut open, but no you can not do skin to skin, no delayed umbilical cutting. Josh and baby would go back to the room without me... while I was being put back together, Josh could do skin to skin when they got back to the room, but he couldn't even hold him until then. Everything I wanted stripped away with 1 cm...
I had a sarcastic-ish anesthesiologist guy. He came in and started to give me the stronger dose epidural and gave me something to drink to help nausea because 30% of people get sick. I was in that category. They had laid me flat which was very uncomfortable for me. I started to feel sick almost immediately. I can still imagine the ceiling tiles as they rolled me to the operating room, and willing myself not to be sick. Josh had to stop at the end of the hallway and wait to be let into the room. I guess so they could prep me. They wheeled me into the operating room. Bright, white, and cold. And I couldn't handle it anymore. I told the sarcastic-ish anesthesiologist that I was going to be sick and before he could do anything I puked all in the oxygen mask he had just placed on me, which conveniently just shot my puke all back in my face and down one side and into my hair. And all he did was dab my face... no cleaning me up. And I had started the stupid uncontrollable shaking again from such a high dose of the epidural. Here I was about to welcome a my son into the world and I was strapped down on this table in an unbearably cold, stark feeling room and now I had puke all over me.
Josh came into the room and Fran I remember being there and I just cried, the sobby crying that makes your body bounce (I know this because I could feel my still very pregnant stomach bounce ha) and Fran grabbing my hand and I can hear her telling Josh to comfort me and me replying "I'll be ok." I remember praying that I would be ok, and so would Seeley. Like a sudden fear that something would go wrong and my babies would grow up without a mom... All the while hearing them on the other side of the blue "curtain" saying the were cutting... It was by far the worst, most bazaar feeling in the world, the tugging and pulling (it was still painful to a point too) and knowing they aren't just cutting skin but nerves and mucsles. Then painful pressure as the pushed hard at the top of my stomach to I guess push him out. I groaned quite loudly I think and then I felt him leave and my stomach deflate. "You have a linebacker" "He's huge" "There was no way she was going to have him vaginally" and other numerous comments swirled around the room and Josh talking in my ear saying he was here and look how big he was... All I could see was my naked, purple baby couple feet away from me. They took him to a table and swaddled him. And brought him over for me to look at. All I could do was kiss his face.
And then he and Josh were gone. I was still there feeling the awful tugging and words like "a lot of blood" "clots" and imagining my stomach and muscles open. Still wigs me out. When I did make it to my room, I was shaking so bad, I was too afraid to hold Seeley and probably didn't even get to hold him until he was an hour old.
I can say now 3 weeks post partum that I regret nothing. That, yes, my birth story is no where near what I intended or wanted, in the end both my son and and myself came out of the experience just fine. Maybe my recovery is longer than with my daughter and that totally sucks, but looking into that sweet chubby face and seeing his little blue grey newborn eyes focus on me makes it so worth it. I feel weepy when I look at his beautiful perfection and a little pride that both Josh and I could make such a beautiful baby, and thank God daily for blessing me so much.
Honestly, Mommy
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