For almost eleven weeks I have been trying to write KGB’s birth story. I don’t want to lose it to time, or forget it as happens with many memories. But every time I start typing, the anger washes over me. Not even in a “tidal wave” – which might bring some cleansing, but like an avalanche of snow that buries me alive.
Sunday evening, February 22nd, Otto and I decided to go walking at Target. I had been having very hard contractions, with no regularity, since early that morning. We went to church, but spent the rest of the day at home – until I just needed to move. We had a quick supper at a new restaurant, KEBA, and then walked around Target for about an hour before heading home. I managed to take a warm bath, but by 11pm, we started making phone calls to “initiate hospital protocol”.
GO and Went headed to Queen’s house, CW was on his way to Quilting Bee’s House, and B10 was coming with us to the hospital (Mum was meeting us there). We dropped everyone off and pulled into the hospital by 1am. I was nervous and excited. I knew in my heart the contractions were different, but without my water breaking, I was very nervous that I was either too early or in false labor.
After registering at the desk, I was taken back to triage, where I received the best news – I was 4 cm dilated! I remember being elated when Otto, B10, and Mum came in the room. I was so excited to be moved to a real room and truly “admitted”. That moment when you know there’s no going back and the next time you leave the hospital, it will be with a baby in your arms. The photographer arrived, and I think it was one of the last moments I was truly happy and optimistic.
My favorite female doctor (Dr. D) was on shift that night, and she hugged me when she came into the room and was so encouraging. The monitors weren’t picking up many contractions, and KGB’s heart-rate would occasionally drop, so Dr. D and the resident wanted to break my water and put internal monitors for both me and the baby. I asked if before they broke my water, if I could have my epidural. Dr. D told me “of course”, and so the anesthesiologist was called. I had progressed to between 5 and 6 cm, my body was doing what it should, but it seemed to be doing it with lots of time between contractions (though I thought it was more the monitor, because I could FEEL the pain!).
My phenomenal nurse advocated for me, to allow Otto to stay in the room during the epidural. And that is where the bad parts began. Five people in the room: Otto, myself, my L&D nurse, the nurse anesthesiologist, and the anesthesiologist. Once again (because it happens every time a new person arrived) we went over my allergies. Most importantly: adhesives. I am allergic to most medical adhesives, and the only thing you can use on my skin is paper tape and surgical tegaderm. We had the discussion, all five of us in the room – Otto tried to stand at one point and see what was going on – and was told to sit down, or he would have to leave the room.
The epidural went in, and I felt relief pretty quickly from the pain – but the itching – HOLY COW – the itching… It was horrible and went on for over 25 minutes. The contractions were still odd, but Dr. D hoped with the breaking of the water, they would become more regular.
I dozed in and out, more anxious than anything. B10 was on the floor with his phone, Mum had to leave to get to school to teach, Otto was praying and working, and our photographer was taking pictures. Dr. D came by to say goodbye, as it was shift change (looking back, I wish she had checked me just one more time). Less than 15 minutes later, Dr. R came in to check me (Dr. R is a nice doctor, and a GOOD doctor, but a very young and inexperienced doctor). I was at 9cm, almost ready to push. KB’s heart rate had been dipping during contractions, but bounced back up right after, so no one seemed overly concerned. So she patted my leg and said she would be right back and we could get ready to have this baby.
The next 15 minutes are still a huge blur. I was laying on my side, thinking about what it would be like to FINALLY push and get to hold my baby immediately after she was born. Something I had never gotten to do, because all my other babies were so early. I know I was imagining being able to nurse and having photographs of this birth – then the doors were thrown open. I can remember how in that brief moment, I thought how odd they didn’t knock and announce themselves.
The nurse was on my left and the resident on my right and they were yelling at me to get on all fours. My brain couldn’t comprehend how I was suppose to get on all fours with an epidural – but they were moving my body for me. The nurse was trying to get an oxygen mask on me, but I took just a few breaths before she pulled it off (I know it hurt, it caught on my ponytail she was moving so fast). No one was telling me anything.
I was given a small cup to drink, while another nurse was hitting the large red button on the wall and screaming “code stork”. At that precise moment, I knew I was having another c-section. The cup, I always remembered the cup. It’s the antacid that keeps you from throwing up. Tastes horrible, and I was trying to drink it on all fours. I was crying. The resident was trying to get my jewelry off (my necklace and rings – which I later found out she threw at the photographer, one of the rings had to be retrieved from under the sofa in the room). They pulled the blanket up to my shoulders and were moving the bed.
I remember the hallway, and SO MANY people pushing my bed. Not one or two, like normal. Maybe they weren’t all pushing – but they were running. Into the OR, where they helped me flip on my back and move to the operating table. Still yelling, so much shouting. And no one telling me anything.
I had a new anesthesiologist. She looks exactly like Natalie Portman. (I mean EXACTLY – I had to blink, because I was sure it was the drugs making me think that Queen Amidala was helping me give birth). She was the calming one, while she couldn’t tell me what was going on, she at least was telling me we were going to be okay, and my husband was coming. I was crying and begging for someone to bring Otto to me and tell me what was happening.
Otto got into the operating room quickly, even though it felt like forever. And then they were cutting, and it hurt. I was praying, it hurt so bad. Later, I found out KB was so far down into the birth canal, that Dr. S decided to pull her out feet first (a decision that would very likely lead to the two hematomas I would develop – 3-5 months minimum healing time). They whisked her away almost immediately after she was born, Otto following her. I only got a brief glance. “Code Stork” is the call to send the neo-natal team directly to an OR, so they were waiting for her.
They stitched me up, and I was crying. Crying the entire time. I knew it had to be necessary, but I didn’t know WHY I was there. What was wrong? Was KB okay?
They took me to recovery, and B10 was waiting. Both Otto and the photographer are “strong” personalities. Apparently, all those guidelines about how many people can be in certain rooms were waived, as they went and took B10 with them. And all came into the recovery room, when KB was brought to me. The nurses removed the epidural and patches, then gave me the baby to nurse.
The first time I laughed was when the baby nurse said “your husband has been annoying me to bring this baby to you.” That was exactly what the nurse had said two years ago when Went was born. KB latched on as soon as I held her close. She knew what to do, and Otto was sending out messages to everyone. B10 asked to hold her, and sang “Amazing Grace” softly while walking her around. It wasn’t what I had dreamed, but it was good.
Then we got moved to our room. And the epidural started wearing off.
Burns. 1st and 2nd degree chemical burns that would eventually cover 75-80% of my back. Because the anesthesiologist used a product he KNEW I was allergic to under the tegaderm. Later, we would find the two hematomas. And after that would come the completely not their fault, but still horrid, spider bite that got infected (right on top of the larger of the two hematomas).
The scar is ugly and off-center. But I can live with that. The baby doctors that did rounds told us she had a cord prolapse – the c-section was necessary and saved her life.
I can have both types of emotions: Joy and Relief that KB was born healthy, and also Anger and Frustration that no one talked to me, and I was deliberately hurt, because that was “easier” on the doctors.
And that is what I’m struggling with now. The anger. And the pain. Almost eleven weeks has passed, and I am looking at what feels like an eternity of pain in my future. She is beautiful. She is worth it. I can make it.
~Mummy Butterfly )i(
(visit www.jenniferwileyphotography.com to find out more about our amazing photographer)
The C4 Tree 