For about a week before my actual due date (Mother's Day: May 12, 2013), I had been feeling Braxton Hicks contractions, where my belly would tighten up rock solid with no pain. One night, the weekend prior to my due date, those contractions were 5 or so minutes apart, and I thought I would wake up in labor for sure. But Mother's Day came and went, and I remember that Sunday telling Rob that I wish he could just stay home with me instead of going to work on Monday.
The next day, Monday, May 13, around 8 a.m., I woke up feeling a little "gushy," kind of like the feeling when you know your period is coming as soon as you stand up and get to the bathroom. I went to the bathroom and felt a gush of water that was clearly not pee. As I wiped, I saw chunks of mucus snot and wondered if I lost my mucus plug, a sign of impending labor, or if my water broke, also a sign of impending labor. I put a fresh pair of underwear on and left the room, gush again. Put a new pair of underwear on and added a pad, gush again, with tons of snot on the pad (by the way, if this is already gross for you, stop reading now). Rob was texting me to email him a few things to apply for a position, and I told him I was pretty sure Cole was going to be born. I also told him not to leave work until I figured out what was going on. I also texted Ashley, but told her to keep her lips sealed. I didn't want anyone to make a big deal if I had just peed myself or something.
I went right online to search out my symptoms and was still left asking myself, mucus plug or water? But what my online search confirmed was if you think water, call doctor. So I called my doctor's office and chatted with a nurse. She asked me to cough and see if anything gushed out, which it didn't, but she told me to go straight to the office for a checkup anyway, which I did.
At the office, I checked in with the pleasant receptionist and got checked in by a younger nurse/helper. I completed the regular routine of blood pressure (it happened to be really high that day but they wouldn't tell me the numbers), weight (184, a 56 pound weight gain) , urine sample and went into the examination room. They asked me to change from waist down, and as I walked from the changing area to the table, I left a little trail of drops. Clearly, my water had broke. One nurse came in to examine me and noticed my trail, and we laughed together over the mess. The younger nurse/helper who had originally checked me in came into the room and looked horrified at the water on the ground, and I just said to her, noticing her face, "I dripped."
The nurses called the doctor on call at the hospital (Dr. Lochner) who told me to get to the hospital. At this point, I called Rob and gave him the 911 get home call. I also told him that I would drive myself to the hospital and meet him there (since he was coming from Huntington). He thought I sounded ridiculous and told me he would call my mom to come get me. He also said he would do the rounds of calls to everyone so I could avoid all the conversations and same questions, but everyone started to call my phone anyway. From that point, I really didn't want to talk to my family and give out details. I just wanted to get back home, grab my bags, and use the bathroom. Oh yes, for the two days before my water broke, my body was naturally cleansing itself to save me the embarrassment of pooping on the table. I spoke to my mom on the phone and was like okay - need to crap my brains out please. And - I did. I also remembered to eat a little something - just in case they withheld food from me. I grabbed a quick yogurt for my last meal.
By the time I was ready to go, Rob had screeched into the driveway. He was clearly nervous and excited - almost a little brain dead and forgetful. I was fairly calm, went through my last minute hospital item checklist (makeup, purse, phone charger, pillow). I looked up on the iPhone how to get to the hospital (since we had no idea), and we were off. As we pulled out of the driveway, Muriel (mother in law) was pulling in. Not sure exactly why she raced to our house, but she zoomed to the hospital as if she was the one in labor. After we got out of the driveway, I called my mom to tell her Rob was home and taking me; she rambled on and on about how that's how she wanted it to be and how she didn't want to get to the hospital before us, and I honestly have no idea what she was saying. I call this state of mind "Grandma Drunk." And I was in my "about-to-give-birth" state. Rob was amazed he got home from Huntington (45 min. drive) before my mother got to Patchogue from Shirley (15 min. drive). He said he drove about 90 mph on the way home, even past a cop. On the drive to the hospital, I made sure to down water, as Ashley had told me hospitals believe in "Chinese torture," not allowing you to eat or drink while in labor. I downed a huge bottle just in case.
When we got to the hospital, we pulled up to the valet parking area and asked if we were in the right spot for labor/delivery. The attendant said that department "should be" in the main building where we were, but he didn't sound too confident. Rob decided to not valet because he was afraid of where they were parking the cars and if he wanted to run back to the car and couldn't. Then, we drove around and couldn't find a spot anywhere. We finally ended up on the third level of the parking garage in no-man's land. We took some of the important items from the car and headed back to the hospital area. I was now on the hunt for a bathroom.
As we walked inside, we ran into Muriel, who somehow beat us to the hospital. I tried one bathroom, but it was locked, so we went into the labor/delivery area. The male receptionist asked me for my information and couldn't find me in the system, until he realized I was entered into the database with my maiden name. Rob joked about the last name of his baby. Then, we sat and waited a bit, and a nurse came over and asked me if my water had broke and if it had meconium in it; I told her I had no idea but it wasn't clear. (Obviously, everyone knew Cole had taken a dump in utero except for me - although I was suspicious after doing my research).
The nice receptionist let me go to the bathroom, where I gushed some more. Then, Rob, Muriel, and I sat in the waiting room. After a little while, my doctor came out and then a nurse who began to escort Rob and me to our room. Muriel said she was with us, so she came too. None of us really knew exactly what procedure we were following, and I definitely didn't realize they would be taking me into the room I would be having Cole. The bed was set up with towels and chucks for all the future baby goop. The baby warmer was ready for action.
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| The Baby Warmer: My inspiration during 25 hours of labor |
(Who would have thought that this room would be more like the red room of pain?) The nurse, Deana, handed me my gown and told me to change. I suggestively glanced at Rob as I walked into the bathroom, hoping he would kick his mom out. When I came out of the bathroom, she was still there - smiling stupidly (remember, grandma drunk). Finally, I didn't care how subtle my looks were, Rob clearly caught on and escorted his mother out of the room. Later he told me he said to her that I needed my privacy, and she just stood there smiling and nodding (grandma drunk - see). Deana gave me a towel to stick between my legs in case I gushed more and didn't want to lay in a pool of amniotic fluid, mixed with mucus and meconium. She also told me that I could have anyone come in as I please, and I told her that didn't want any visitors.
You see, I can easily compare the feelings I was having to how I feel before big races, and I knew I'd probably feel pretty comparable in both of these situations. I even texted some of my track friends that I felt like I do before a race: a little nervous, really excited, and ready to rock. Also, that's why I didn't need any visitors. I become a real loner before a race because I know there is nothing that any outside help can do - it's all on me. And there's no getting around that labor falls on the woman only (although my poor husband is probably scarred by the things that he saw in the next 25 hours).Once I was set up, a resident came in for the last sono of my pregnancy and confirmed I still had some fluid left, which I hadn't collected with my towel. Then, Dr. Lochner came in to fill me in on the plan. She explained that because my blood pressure was high (first time during the pregnancy) and because Cole was floating in meconium and could possibly inhale or ingest it, they would like to speed my labor along. One possibility was to give me cervadil, which would "ripen" my cervix and speed up dilation (I was only 1 cm dilated), a process that would add about 12 hours of wait time before real contractions/labor. Dr. Lochner advised against this plan just because of the meconium issue and recommended plan 2 - a slow drip of pitocin to encourage my natural labor to speed up (my "Braxton" contractions were actually contractions 7 minutes apart - and felt like nothing more than the hardening of my belly). They explained that they would start slow and build up, depending on how my body responded.
For a few hours, I laid around with a towel between my legs, full stretchy cloth band around my belly (that got a little itchy after a while) that held monitors in place; one monitor plays the baby's heartbeat, which is pretty cool, unless the baby is in distress, which is awful. I'm not really sure what the other one does. I was also hooked up to an IV in one arm that gave me a electrolyte substance and the pitocin. Usually they put the IV in a person's hand, but my nurse didn't like any of my veins there because they all had too many branches and no direct line. She resorted to the place where you get most of your blood taken, opposite your elbow, which is apparently not a favorable spot for an IV. They kept reminding me to keep my arm straight so that I didn't block the flow, and when I did bend my arm, a loud alarm would sound. Imagine trying to remember to keep one arm straight for hours on end. Then, my other arm was strapped with a blood pressure arm band that kept contracting on me about every five minutes; for a while, I thought that those contractions hurt more than the uterine ones.
As I laid there, the contractions began to get slightly stronger, but I was only discomforted a little and thought I'd master the labor process if contractions continued to feel this way. I described them to Rob and friends a few different ways: (1) like the damn arm band blood pressure machine on my uterus instead of my arm, (2) like too much stim during physical therapy, and (3) the way Ashley must feel when she gets runner trots after 10K races lol. My doctor came in after I had a series of these contractions one minute apart and asked me my pain level. When I said that I was a little uncomfortable, she clearly knew I wasn't in a hard labor yet. Then, she did an internal exam that hurt way more than the contractions. I tapped my toes as my eyes teared while she examined me, and she apologized and also explained that she was going to put some sort of sensor up my vagina to monitor my contraction strength and dilation, this way they didn't have to examine me too often since my water was already broken and I was at more of a risk for infection. At that point, I asked to use the bathroom, so I had to walk to the bathroom with wires hanging out of me from every possible end. My doctor said the exam would have been less painful if I had an empty bladder - now I know for the next time (if there will ever be one after my whole ordeal lol).
The anesthesiologist also came in to explain the pros and cons of the epidural. He explained that its a fairly easy and quick process and explained how the needles work. Then he explained the worse-case-scenario possibilities; I think I heard respiratory failure as one of them. I was still on the fence about the whole thing. I explained to the doctor that I was on the no-plan plan and I'd see how I felt. She explained that she liked my style, when her patients have preferences, not plans. I responded that I felt I had no real right to call the shots for something I have never experienced and I'd leave her and the experts to guide me through. She seemed to shoot straight to the point every time she came to talk to me.
Again, there was a lot of down time as I waited through gentle contractions. They slowed the pitocin down at some point because I was getting them pretty quickly. Then, Rob and I sat and watched HGTV for a few hours - Curb Appeal - it was a really dumb show. And - the speakers for the TV only came out of a little speaker attached to the remote on my bed, so it was hard to hear, especially for Rob. Sitting around for a while, Rob got a little antsy (he also hadn't eaten), so he went out the car to get our bags and to calm down our families who were waiting in the waiting room (later I heard my dad figured I'd take about four hours - ha).
Because I said no visitors, a random nurse came into my room and said that someone was trying pretty aggressively to see me. I asked who, and she responded my sister. I knew my sister would appreciate me letting her in, so I said, "Ohhhh, my sister, you can let her in." The nurse asked her name and left. She returned and told me that it was my sister-in-law trying to get in. The only sister-in-law I could think of was my Floridian one, so I looked puzzled and said, "Kerrie?" When the nurse said Jaclyn, I guess I didn't do a good job concealing my thoughts on her because she smiled and said, "Don't worry, she was pretty nasty to us too. I'll send her to the waiting room." HA.
Then Rob came back with my bags for me to tell him the story and then get into real labor. The contractions started coming about every 1.5 minutes. At first, I was a champ, concentrating on deep breaths and living in the moment, not worrying about the next contraction. But after a while, the only possible way I could describe the feeling is it was as though Edward Scissorhands was reaching up in me and trying to pull my organs out, tearing me from top to bottom (my doctor later confirmed she felt like her insides were falling out when she was in labor too). I would feel the wave of pain start to rise, curl to my left, clench the side of the bed and breath, which turned into clenching the side of the bed and crying a few hours later. I kept thinking, what if my labor is the 24-hour type of labor? I knew I couldn't withstand the pain for the long haul.
Around 8 p.m., about 12 hours into the whole ordeal, I asked for the epidural. The anesthesiologist, a young peppy woman, came pretty quickly, and Rob was asked to leave the room. She told me that she could be done pretty quick if all went smoothly. Then, she showed me how to arch my back to make sure she could get the needle in most effectively. The team sat me up and my nurse Deana gave me a pillow to clench. Then, she held my hand, and I took it and genuinely held onto it as I went through contractions, waiting for my pain relief. The anesthesiologist apologized for making me feel "naked," to which I replied that at that point I just didn't care. We all laughed at my desperateness. Then, as I sat there waiting for everything to be fully hooked up (a quick needle - painless - in the back and a thin cord attached to it with an additional presser button for me when I felt I needed more meds, which felt like a rush of cold into my body. At first this rush was scary, then it was gladly welcomed a few moments later). The anesthesiologist was done in record time, and everyone in the room celebrated her speediness, especially me. I called her my savior. For a bit, I chatted with the staff and asked them if they knew Diana Garetto, a former high school teammate/classmate of mine who served her residency at SB. They all knew her, so we talked while my meds set in.
And oh did the meds set in. If I had to describe the feeling, my track friends would totally understand if you know how it feels to come out of a ice tub. You can still feel and move your legs but they are numb. So from the stomach down, I was feeling great. What a glorious drug. I cannot believe I even thought to get through labor without it. It took about 20 minutes for the drug to fully set in. And when it did, I was still feeling a slight bit of contraction in one part of my stomach, so the anesthesiologist came in just to check. She put ice in a glove and put it all over my body, asking me if I felt the coldness, which I didn't, so she knew the epi worked. She just gave me a little more dosage and then I was perfect. Rob returned to say that my mom somewhat made fun of me for taking the epi when I said I wouldn't. In my defense, I never said I was against it; I just didn't want to do it if I could get through the labor without it, which no way in hell could I have done.
Once I was also completely numb, Deana came back in to put in my catheter. She fiddled between my legs and attached something to me which drained all my pee into a bag that was attached to the end of my bed, add another wire coming from my crotch. Rob and I were both pretty grossed out to watch my golden pee pour into the bad. Guess the ice chips weren't hydrating me enough.
As things settled down, Rob and I continued to lounge around and watch our HGTV. Rob reminded me that it was Monday and Teen Mom was on at 10 p.m., which really excited me haha. I'm a big fan of my guilty pleasure. Also, I must add, I was obsessively texting updates to my friends (my co-workers - via our group text - said they felt like they were in labor too). Rob started to get sleepy just lounging around and also hadn't eaten much. Yes, let me remind you my lunch and dinner were ice chips that I was eating like a madwoman. I asked a nurse at one point for more dinner ha ha. Even though I had a ton of snacks in my hospital bag (courtesy of my sister's hospital bag baby shower present - one of many), Rob felt bad eating in front of me. I told him to go out for a snack, that I would be okay.
He left, and in about five minutes, my nurse and doctor came rushing into the room. Immediately they asked where my husband was and laughed with my snack reply. They had taken my phone from me as they started to examine all my vitals and such, and then they gave it back and said I needed to call him to come back - I was headed into surgery. Cole's heart was decelerating rapidly with the contractions and he needed to come out. They started shaking my belly and moving me in different positions. As the phone rang once for Rob, Cole's heart sped up and the two women told me to hang up immediately on the grounds that I would "freak him out." Dr. Lochner said that she was on the phone with Dr. Porte when all Cole's vitals dipped and she sprinted in. Apparently, it was a major dip; I was moments away from a c-section.
So Dr. Lochner watched the machines for a while and explained that we had two new possible plans. 1. If I wanted to get the show over with, I could go right into a c-section. She explained that some women prefer the surgery over the long wait. 2. They would take me off the pitocin and let my natural labor catch up. They explained that I dilated fairly quickly (4 cm) once the contractions were powerful and hopefully I didn't need the pitocin to continue the process, since I was on so little anyway. She also explained that it was a huge possibility that if his heart rate continued to drop, I would have to go in for the c-section, but she believed I could still attempt a vaginal delivery - on close watch. Also, she explained my wonderful nurse Deana felt bad, but she didn't feel so well and had to go home. She was replaced by a medical student and a strange Asian nurse. Dr. Lochner was also off for the night and was replaced by the in-house Stony Brook doctor I didn't know (who Rob thought he saw in the parking lot in a Boston Marathon jacket). Beware - shift changes = no communication. No one knows what's going on when the staff switches.
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| Keeping the Baby Happy with Oxygen - and texting updates to my friends |
For the next several hours, I would lay in various positions to "keep the baby happy." Later in the night, around 2 or 3 a.m., after watching Teen Mom on repeat several times, I started to feel a little gassy, which is really weird when you are pretty much numb. I swore I felt wetness and reached down near the back end of my towel to confirm my worst fear of pooping on the table. I felt a glob of goo and cried. Rob was in a light sleep on a fold out couch next to me, and I called to him quietly, ashamed of my predicament. "I think I popped," I sobbed, and I asked him for toilet paper to wipe myself. When I did wipe, it was nothing but huge amounts of blood. Rob went to the towel between my legs and confirmed that I was covered in gallons (it seemed) of blood and reassured me that there was no poop. I was relieved that I didn't soil myself, but Rob grabbed a nurse to make sure this massacre was normal. The Asian nurse, Lee, told me that it was my bloody show, which I learned, can happen during labor - not just before. She brought the doctor in and showed him my bloody towels, and he shrugged like it was no big deal. Poor Rob - his gruesome visual experience was just beginning.
About a half hour after my near-self-defecation incident, Rob and I again were laying around; he was half asleep, but I definitely woke him up with a long embarrassing case of flatulence. I let out one long fart that lasted - no joke - over a minute. If you ask a traumatized Rob, he'd say an hour. I'm actually laughing so hard right now just thinking about it - and Rob is staring at me thinking I've gone crazy (I also hysterically cried last night when he asked me how I was feeling: coo-coo). Rob was horrified but we laughed it off. "I can't help it," I whined in the middle of giggles.
Around 4 a.m., I lay alone in a quiet room. All I could hear was Cole's heartbeat on the machines and the arm band machine taking my blood pressure. A nurse would come in here and there and tell me that I needed my rest and that I should sleep. Every time I nodded off, the blood pressure arm band would contract on me, and after a while, I wanted to just rip it off. Other times, I would hear screams in the area of women giving birth - horrifying. After a while, I would pretend sleep when a nurse came in, just so I didn't get the "get your rest" lecture. At this point, I was laying on my back and the bed was elevated a particular way, again, to "keep the baby happy." But this position, after hours of laying in the same one, was not making me too happy; my back was killing me. I stared at Rob, who looked peacefully asleep with four pillows. And I felt really sorry for myself. My back ached. I was starving. My throat was so scratchy dry. I just wanted to move around. I knew a couple of my friends were probably awake with their newborns, and I sent SOS messages to them. My one friend who survived 32 hours of labor was quick to respond. And I remember her telling me that her husband, a football player/coach, told her (while she was in labor) that she was playing junior varsity and needed to step it up to varsity level (SLAP!) haha. So I told her, I was feeling pretty J.V. and sorry for myself. I posted on my FB, "20 hours = no Cole," and then logged out and tuned out. I started to cry to myself, and a nurse happened to come in and caught me. I explained that my back hurt so bad and I just wanted to move (because she didn't speak to anyone about my situation, she said that it was no problem that I could lay on my side.) Relieved, I enjoyed a few seconds off my back, surrounded by pillows and towels - until the crew came back in to flip me on my back. To be truthful, I questioned if Cole was going to be worth it; I had been broken down.
At 5 a.m., a crew of new faces came in to examine me (Rob kept his distance even though he was cornered by our bags which gave him a clear view of my crotch and the hands up it); the resident told me I was fully dilated and Dr. Porte (my actual doctor) would be at the hospital in a few hours for his shift. Then, the overnight doctor came in again and didn't know I was just examined (makes a girl feel good, right?) and asked us what the first crew said. He asked me if I was feeling "pressure," which they had also asked me a few times. When I explained that I felt a little bit of pressure but not extreme, he basically explained I would feel like my rectum was ripping apart. I definitely was not feeling that level of pressure. He said they would wait until I told them I felt that type of pain. They also told me to stop pressing the epidural button so that I would be more in tune with this ass-ripping-apart feeling. Rob sent out the message to everyone that a baby could be born soon.
But, it turned out there wouldn't be a baby too soon. I laid around, waiting for the pressure, feeling more J.V.-like every passing minute. I cried to Rob, begging him for more of his pillows for my aching back and telling him that I didn't think I could do this anymore - that maybe I should just ask for the c-section anyway. He consoled me, telling me I was almost there. The contractions started to get stronger, as my epidural wore off. I told Rob I was so scared of feeling them completely again, as I was sure they were stronger and back with a vengeance.
Around 7 a.m., Dr. Porte, my doctor, came in and was shocked to hear that I was fully dilated since 5 a.m.. By the looks of the doctor's and nurses' faces, it was pretty clear that the night doctor just was avoiding the delivery and putting me off until Dr. Porte's shift. Dr. Porte, like many of the people prior, said the baby's head was really low. Then, unlike the others said, "It's time to have a baby." He told the crew to get everything set up.
A really nice middle-aged nurse with curly blond hair and her short dark-haired student came in to coach me through pushing. When they first came in, my contractions had come back pretty strong, and I was begging to use my epidural button for relief. I remember Dr. Porte saying, "Well, she sure is feeling something." Rob explained that they told me I couldn't use the epidural button, and the new nurse said that I could by all means push it and shouldn't be in that much pain to push. Little did I know, that push would be the end of the magical epidural substance. I had run out - and a little alarm would keep beeping to remind us all (one of Rob's jobs was to turn it off).
The nurse explained that pushing could take anywhere from 1 to 3 hours, and that on a contraction I would take a deep breath in, deep breath out, deep breath in, and push holding my breath. She also wanted me to keep my eyes open so that I didn't pop blood vessels. And at some point through all these instructions, she asked if I wanted Cole right away or after a quick wipe down. She also assured me that she would get him to me asap after the NICU crew checked him for meconium - so that we could have skin-to-skin, new mama breastfeeding time. The way she explained everything and spoke to me made me assume she was a midwife.
Basically, this woman did most of the doctor-like work - and she was also my personal cheerleader. Right away, she took my leg and instructed Rob to take the other. Rob and my plan was that Rob stays by my head only. Looks like she had a different plan for us, and neither of us had the guts to go against it. Rob flung into action, and I remember exchanging glances - visual shrugs to acknowledge our plan had gone awry. As I went into the push phase of labor, I remember thinking to myself, "Okay, I've gotten this far. I don't have to worry about the c-section anymore." But then I remember realizing, some women try pushing and have to still resort to the c-section. I pushed with intention to avoid surgery. The nurse coached me through, telling me that I was the best pusher ever, that I moved that baby down so fast. I remember being proud of myself for being a good pusher, but also thinking to myself, "She probably says these things to everyone." HA. She also would hook two fingers into my lower vagina and explain that I should push toward the point she was touching. As weird as it sounds, the pinpointable touch really helped focus where I pushed. Later, she also explained that during the series of pushes for each contraction to try to hold the pressure and work from it, instead of letting the baby move back inward. I also kept trying to push my legs against her and Rob's arms when I was supposed to be pulling them into me. She explained these tips really well - and I listened intently and tried to apply them all at once.
Then (sorry things get blurry here - think it's from the lack of oxygen from holding my breath so much pushing), my contractions came on full blast. I was practically paralyzed and remember screaming (hopefully not as loud as the women who had been screaming at night in labor) that I couldn't function, nonetheless push. My wonderful nurse immediately grabbed two anesthesiologists who put in a new quick dose of the epidural. When they asked if I could still feel the contractions, I responded yes, and they injected another dose to ensure I'd last the whole push session contraction free. I wasn't fully numb to them, but Edward was put at bay.
Then, I breathed through a contraction or two and went back to pushing. At that point, the nurse said, "Let's see if he has blond curly hair like me!" I remember asking, "Can you see his hair, really?" She confirmed, but I still didn't believe her and mouthed the question to Rob, who had tears rolling down his cheeks. Guess that was an affirmative. Then, the nurse asked me if I wanted to touch to feel his head of hair, and I laughed and said nooo thank you. She explained sometimes feeling the baby inspires women during the push session. Rob declined the offer too.
From here, things are super blurry, so sorry if I am undetailed or rushed. I feel like this point to Cole's birth was a matter of minutes, but apparently I pushed from 7:08 to 8:38, so obviously there was a lot of time. Here is where I feel like my labor became 50 Shades of Gray gone bad. Dr. Porte came in and told my nurse to "get the bar." They kept asking me how tall I was, so they got the "bar" for the 5'4 person. The bar was like squat machine that attached to the hospital bed. The bed lowered down in one spot and the single monkey bar apparatus connected to the sides of the bed. Then I was supposed to put my hands on the top part of the bar like I was doing a curl up and push backwards with my hands and outwards with my legs, while I was in a squat position. Dr. Porte said I should feel like I'm taking a dump (he used better words - but that's how I translated it). I kept pushing up on the bar instead of back, so at one point I flung the bar out of it's holders. The nurses ran to get the bar for the taller person and said I would work better with that one. I was also supposed to be connected to oxygen because of Cole's heart rate, but the mask barely reached where I was squatting, so it was half on and half off and my head had to turn awkwardly to the side to stay somewhat connected. I remember feeling gushes of wet stuff coming out of me, and I looked down at one point and saw the slime pouring out of me and thinking that it was good that I had that goop since my water was probably all gone and not lubricating anything. But it was gross. At one point Dr. Porte shouted to me to curl around the baby's head, and I remember crying, "I don't know what you meannnnnn."
And in this stage, I began to feel this "pressure" everyone kept asking me to report hours ago, except the pressure was almost all frontal for me. I can't really describe it in words but I remember thinking that it feels exactly how you would think a human squeezing out of you would feel. I would make it through three or four pushes, finish the contraction, and moan for a second, then tuck my head down and find my zen mindset with deep breaths. I was in my own world.
Then, somehow I got flipped onto my back again. Throughout the whole push ordeal, I constantly kept asking, "Is this is contraction coming? Can I push?" Dr. Porte answered almost every time that I know better than they do. (I figured the machines could tell them - guess not?) When I was on my back again, I remember hearing the nurse tell Dr. Porte that she was going to call the NICU to come in and Dr. Porte responded that we still had plenty of time before we needed them. The nurse disagreed. And I remember being so disappointed that labor was going to be dragged out. Apparently, this conversation must have been strategy because I pushed like a son-of-a-gun and could feel his head pop out. Then I had the urge to keep pushing and heard the doctor say - are you pushing? And I remember crying, "Am I alloweddddd?" even though I was pushing without permission anyway. I think any woman who delivered vaginally must feel invincible after feeling a baby slide out. I felt Cole in three sections: head, midsection, then a slimy slither of the rest of him. When his head came out, I heard Dr. Porte say, "Ohhh, that's why." Rob explained to me that Cole, our super baby, came out like superman, with one hand on his head, which is why I wasn't feeling the full crowning pressure all that time and why it was so hard to get him out.
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| Cole = Super Baby |
At one point, they told me to push slow (from what I understand now, these instructions were because the umbilical cord was wrapped around Cole's neck and stopped his heart upon exit). See, I was clueless as to what was happening south of the border, but Rob was in the front row. He later told me when he came out, the heart rate monitor that had been playing the whole 25 hours went quiet and the crew exchanged looks and kicked into action. Cole was fine once they unwrapped the cord, I think. I heard Dr. Porte say to put the baby on my belly, and in a warped fast-paced, slow-motion moment, I felt a plop on my stomach and reached my hands around a baby Cole, although he looked more like a placenta, covered in blood. From there, in my drunken perspective, I zoomed in on Dr. Porte's instructions to Rob to cut the cord (Rob originally said he wouldn't cut the cord and he'd leave it to the professionals - another game changer). I watched Rob's hands take the scissors and take two snips to get through the yellowish rubbery vein (it almost looked like one of those rubber turnakits they use when taking blood); Cole was disconnected from me while he rested on my stomach, but the NICU whisked him to the warming table. I kept looking at Rob asking if he heard a cry because I didn't; then, finally I heard his sweet little newborn cry, knowing all was okay with our new baby boy.
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| 7 lbs. 8 oz.! |
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| Cole's First Picture Ever! |
But here's another rough part for the poor mamas. While everyone is cooing over the baby, moms have more to go. For me, my doctor explained that because of Cole's super baby exit, his elbow's position did some damage to my lady parts and I needed a bit of stitches, which I like to call southern reconstruction. He numbed the area and all I could feel was the tugging of thread. Dr. Porte kept telling me to relax my legs and "bottom," but I could not control the extreme trembling from a mixture of extra sensitivity, exhaustion, and general uncomfortableness from being spread wide eagle. One of my fellow new moms put it perfectly. She groaned to the doctor, "I just want to close my legs and never open them again." LOL. Once the stitches were all finished, the doctor had to check all my crevices to make sure things were in working order, including a swift finger up the butt.
At some point during this after party, I whispered to Rob, "Did they get the placenta yet?" Rob, with a horrified, traumatized face explained that he had no clue considering all the goop that had already come out of me. Then, he saw the empty placenta bucket, which was labeled with unnecessary fancy calligraphy "Placenta." Dr. Porte reached in me a little and pressed on the top of my stomach, and I felt the biggest plop of heavy jello come out. I asked, "So it kinda looks like a heart?" And Dr. Porte responded, "More like a liver." Then, he held it up and put his hand in Cole's sac and held it up: a bloody oval, kind of like a huge egg with a large hole in it - just purply/red. (Somewhere during this whole circus they took cord blood too - not sure when that happened).
Then, out of no where, on my left side, a swaddled baby was plopped onto my chest. Rob snapped a picture. I was still in shock. When I was pregnant and thought about this moment, I'd tear up and cry, but not here. I was so blank from the time warp of events. Now when I see the picture, I cry. I guess I just needed time for it all to settle in: there's my Cole, my glow.
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Cole Meet Mama, Mama Meet Cole  |
The wonderful nurse swooped in again, and she explained she was going to put Cole on me in a diaper with my gown open so we could get some some skin-to-skin time and he could naturally find Dairy Queen, as my other fellow mother calls it. It was amazing to watch him just kinda creep around and latch on to me so naturally. The nurse just kept telling me that he will know what to do, and it was a really nice start to breastfeeding, which can be an intimidating process - it never felt more natural.
But the next part was not so natural, I'm not really sure what they did with Cole (maybe gave him to Rob), but they lowered my bed and asked me if I was okay to stand (after pressing on my belly a katrillion times to make sure my uterus was hardening - not comfortable at all). With the two nurses' assistance, I stood and slowly walked to the bathroom. As I sat on the toilet, the nurse told me she is supposed to stay and watch but she should give me a moment alone. I thanked her and tried to pee, but nothing would come out (maybe 25 hours of no food or drink could do that to a person). I called the nurses back in. They proceeded to take a squirt bottle of warm water on my crotch while running water in the faucet to convince me to pee - didn't work. Even being pregnant, I didn't have an overactive bladder.
When we gave up on the peeing thing, the next step was making my elephant diaper for transport to the maternity ward. They take a big chucks (think that's what they call it - it looks like a doggie peepee pad) with two large extra absorbent pads with tucks laid out on it. One nurse held the front, the other nurse held the back, and it went between my legs. This little parade makes a girl feel really good, but then sitting in the wheelchair after giving birth makes a girl feel EVEN BETTER.
But in all honestly, I was pretty proud as they handed me little Cole to hold onto as they wheeled me into my recovery room. So even though I was probably bleeding through onto the wheelchair because of my throbbing vagina, my arms and heart never felt better.
I am actually finishing up my labor story about two weeks after Cole's birth. I think it's funny because I already see the moment as much more beautiful rather than traumatic only two weeks after. I heard women actually have a hormone that makes you forget the pain. I'm not forgetting the pain just yet because I'm still feeling it. So here's a list of my physical repercussions:
1. Excessive bleeding. I bled through everything (chucks, two pads, towels and chucks on the bed) the first hour I was in my recovery room (freaked Rob out). When I would go the bathroom, as soon as I removed the pad from my lower region, I dripped blood everywhere. They actually measure how much you pee the first day you are in the hospital, and it looked like I was peeing straight blood. The pee collector was bright red. The morning after Cole's birth, a resident came to check on my swelling and asked me how my bleeding was. She said it should be comparable to a period and I laughed and said - it's a BIT more than a period, which she explained could be from breastfeeding (your uterus contracts more and therefore pushes more blood out). But, God bless anyone who has to share a room in the hospital. Sharing a bathroom with two bloody Marys cannot be healthy. (P.S. - two weeks later the bleeding is nearly gone. My doctor told me it will go away and one day a big clump of blood will come out and not to be scared of it.)
P.P.S. - Along with the bleeding comes this feeling of gushing. Sometimes it happens whenever, sometimes when you laugh or cough. When I first got home from the hospital, I was in the kitchen and Rob said something to make me laugh, and I remember saying, "Oh my, I gushed a lot!" - only to discover I didn't gush out uterus juices, I peed myself (just enough to soak the elephant pad lol).
2. Swelling. My legs and feet swelled even more than they swelled during my pregnancy. I am talking like scary, giant swelling. Just now, after two weeks of compression, ice, and elevation, they are starting to deflate. My skin actually started cracking because it couldn't stretch anymore. I think I will lose at least 10 pounds when the swelling goes away. I also had a ton of swelling on my back (from laying on it uncomfortably all those hours). It felt like I had a huge freezer zip-lock bag filled with water strapped onto my back. But the other swelling that's scary is the vagina. I told my sister I think I grew a scrotum. My vagina, when I got enough guts to touch the area, was probably about the size of a plum. (When you use the bathroom after pregnancy, you don't wipe - you use a spray bottle and pat yourself dry. I actually wiped for the first time today and was proud of my accomplishments - even though my stitches fell out today also and I thought I had worms. And because I had stitches, I was also super nervous to test out my newly constructed anus. Luckily, the poop situation wasn't so bad thanks to stool softeners - the fear was there though.) I cannot even explain how many medical supplies I need to treat my poor lady parts. Every bathroom trip takes about 10 minutes to re-pad up. I told Rob I was really scared to see how big my vagina looked (I still haven't attempted to even look). He responded, "Do you see Cole's head? Well, I saw your vagina AROUND it." Touche.
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| My Postpartum Belly four days after giving birth |
3. Hemorrhoids/Hernia/Blindness. So I never knew exactly what these things were, but I looked them up and think I had a tiny minor one at the end of my pregnancy - just a swollen blood vessel by your butt. But in the shower a few days after Cole's birth, I poked around and definitely realized it got worse from the big push session. And honestly, sometimes hemorrhoids bleed, but there is no way I could tell what was bleeding because it was just everywhere. As for the hernia, my doctor thinks my guts had too much pressure on them from the baby while I was pregnant, so my belly button has an umbilical hernia. I will know more about this diagnosis in six weeks at my next checkup. There's a possibility that I will need surgery. (Of course, this checkup will be after the one I go to for my retina blindness that I got from puking so bad one day while pregnant. Cole really beat me up.)
4. Soreness. Honestly, my entire body from shoulders down ached, and some parts of me still ache. My arm from a vaccination I got. My boobs from my milk coming in (that went away really quick - and Cole nurses so often that I am not having too many boob issues). Blisters on my nipples. Contractions in my empty, floppy uterus from breastfeeding. And then all the edema (swelling) from the back to the hips to the toes. Not to mention - my crotch is still throbbing. I have mastered sitting slightly on my side instead of putting any pressure on my fluffalina, another fellow new mom's term. My secret to feeling better with this throbbing is to remember to take Motrin every 6 hours to keep the pounding at bay. One day, maybe I'll be able to sit again. I'm just so shocked that no one from Teen Mom ever had the postpartum waddle. I had to go to a discharge meeting at the hospital with all the new mommies, and every single one of them waddled worse than any pregnant woman and sat down VERY carefully. I'm proud that today I went for a mile walk without any pain. Baby steps.
5. Stretch marks. Luckily, I have no belly or hip marks. Many of my friends reported getting stretch marks AFTER birth, so I keep checking/inspecting weeks later. Looks like I went somewhat unscathed - except for my ginormous boobs. The underbelly of one of my cantaloupe-sized dairy queens looks pretty scratched - but I am not minding the temporary boob job. If I had a flat stomach, I'd be a Playboy girl - with some airbrushing for those stretch marks.
Honestly, I think labor was one of the most dehumanizing experiences in my life. I felt raped, ravaged, pillaged. Most of my postpartum weepy emotions come from physically feeling defiled. I explained to one of my friends, I kinda feel like the sacrificial lamb. And what is crazy is that I was a glowing pregnant person who thought I could be pregnant all the time (I still would love to be prego a lot - just someone else can do the labor part).
I think my husband is afraid that I am done after this baby since my labor was so traumatic. He brought up the idea of me not wanting another late at night recently - I just avoided talking about it. But the horror is wearing off and it's only been two weeks. Guess those mind-numbing hormones are working. Or maybe it's Cole.
I've actually written this entire blog with one hand because the other one is cradling my sweet, sweet baby boy (I posted lots of sleepy-Cole-in-my-arm pictures). And although I think labor dehumanizes the poor mother - it also makes her more of a woman than ever. I have never felt more complete, more full, more confident in my abilities, more invincible, and more in love. And I hate to say it - but he really was worth it.
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| First Family Photo |
And three weeks postpartum - here's my newly forming outlook:
