[Finally] Our Birth Story

Last night, Chris sat at the computer, with our new addition in his arms, rereading posts from when Norah was new. It was the kick in the pants I needed to sit down and start back at it again. Admittedly, finding time to blog with two is a lot harder than it was with one (and we all know how great I was at finding time as that one grew!). That said, I was warned prior to our little man's arrival that I had better pay as much attention in writing as well as in photos and film to our new addition as I did to Norah.

We all know the best place to begin...

As with Norah, I booked my labour into our shared Google calendar, except this time I booked it a few days early, on my 30th birthday, hoping to have a distraction from the fact that I was turning 30 and there would be no shindig or celebration and the fact that just breathing was like boot-camp. I went in for a check-up and my doctor was slightly surprised when he offered to sweep my membranes and I accepted. He said that if it worked I would see him Wednesday in the hospital. I was hoping it would work sooner.

Braxton Hicks began late in the evening and I was hopeful, but unlike with Norah, it didn't amount to anything other than a sleepless night spent wondering whether or not we should go to the hospital. By 6:30 in the morning, they had stopped all together and Chris was heading off to work quite sleep deprived. Both of us hoped I would have to call him home early. No such luck.

Tuesday night, my mom stayed over because I wasn't feeling quite right. More practice labour, though I dreamed through these contractions, and no baby. Mom and Chris went to work and I stayed home, trying to adjust my expectations so I didn't go crazy.

Wednesday night, my practice labour started earlier than it had the previous nights-- around 8:00. The contractions were random and easy to handle. I went to bed more concerned about another sleepless, fruitless night than about anything else. At 4:05, I woke, I believe at the completion of a contraction. I rubbed the top of my belly and felt a corresponding bulging at the escape hatch. Curious, I pressed a little bit harder (still gentle, though), and POP-- my waters released. Fortunately, we had a towel under the sheets for such an occasion. I immediately woke Chris and instructed him to call our doula on his cell while I reached for the phone without rising to call my sister-in-law to come stay until morning. I realize that waters releasing is not always cause for immediate concern, but my doctor had given me strict instruction that if I had contractions and my water broke, that I was to head to the hospital immediately ("without showering!") if I didn't want to have a home birth.

After making our respective phone calls, I sent Chris for towel reinforcements, knowing that the change in position would make for more waterworks. With my terri-cloth sumo-diaper, I waddled to the bathroom. When I was able to drop the towel, it became immediately evident to both Chris and I that not just my waters had broken. I will spare you the details, but I will tell you that Norah's placental abruption had nothing on this. It was the kind of image they would cut to on a medical drama to make you turn your head and cringe. As with my first labour, I sat on the toilet and ordered Chris around. Unlike the first, Chris had seen the damage, but he did a good job remaining calm.

Chris called our friend, Ryan (who lives just a few blocks away) to come in the mean time in case we had to leave before my sister-in-law arrived. He loaded the car and brought me clothes. I cleaned up as best I could, insisting C pack the gore in a plastic bag an bring it with us so they could understand the extent of my abruption (with Norah, I had down played the extent of the bleeding and the nurses were shocked when they finally checked me). My sister-in-law arrived just as we were pulling out of the driveway. I gave her some brief instructions and we were on our way.

Emergency was empty when we arrived at 4:30. I checked in and we made our way through the maze up to the new Labour and Delivery Unit. The two nurses at the station looked up when I entered and I said something to the effect of, "Hi! I'm in labour. It may not look like much, but my waters broke and I'm having a placental abruption so I thought it best to come in right away." They escorted me to triage before questioning my self diagnosis.

Nurse: Can I ask how you know you're having a placental abruption?
Me: (gestures to plastic bag with towel inside)
Nurse: Okay...
Chris: She also had one with our daughter.
Me: Right. Yes. I've had one before.
Nurse: That makes more sense.

It was unusually quiet on the ward, so both nurses attended to me. The attention I received was very different this time around. The questions came quickly as I changed into a gown and climbed onto the bed. They prepped me for an I.V. and under normal circumstances I would have protested, but their reactions made it clear this was not a normal circumstance. The nurses remained cheery, but their speed, constant chatter, and frequent references to being
"proactive" let me know that things weren't going very well.

The resident arrived quickly and began the second round of questions-- half of which I had already been asked and the other half were completely irrelevant. Clearly this was her first time dealing with such a situation. Her demeanor was abrupt, but I remained positive. The OBGYN who was on call arrived shortly after. In contrast to the resident, he was very warm and clearly concerned. The team first decided just to notify my doctor of the situation, but after checking the fetal heart-rate again, they called him back and told him to come in immediately. He arrived within 10 minutes. They took blood and continued to monitor the baby. I was denied the ice-chips I had been so looking forward to and that also confirmed the direction my labour was headed.

When they checked me initially, they thought I was 5-6 cm. This made me hopeful. It had taken me over 12 hours to get to that point with Norah. They rolled me to an actual labour and delivery room, which was another good sign. Even though I was hopeful, I made it very clear to my doctor that my priority was a healthy baby and that I trusted him to make the decision of how to proceed. I knew he took my birth plan seriously and that he wouldn't jump the gun.

The room was filled with people at this point-- I can't even remember what they all were there for. A couple of them suggested an epidural to be "proactive." My doctor simply said no at first, but when the resident became more insistent, he produced a concise, firm response detailing how illogical a step that would be, putting her in her place. I don't think I heard anything else from her for the rest of my stay, though I can't be sure.

My fragmented memory is likely due to the fact that I was using self-hypnosis to get through each contraction. We seemed to be settling in. Chris and my doctor sat down beside my bed-- the doctor kicking up his feet and joking about a nap-- and so I grabbed my ipod to head into deeper relaxation. I reached for C's hand with each contraction, riding them like waves and resting between.

After five contractions or so, the energy in the room changed. The baby's heart-rate, which had been dropping with every contraction, was now taking a full three minutes to recover and my contractions were getting closer. My doctor made one last attempt to help me have a vaginal birth. He figured if I was almost fully dilated that I might be able to make it, but when he checked me he put me at 4-5 cm. "It's time to go," they told me.

The OBGYN came over, looked me in the eye and said, "I'm so sorry. I know this is not what you wanted." His sincerity was so comforting. He told me I would be unconscious for the birth and this was the only moment during the whole process that I protested. The OB conceded and told me that they would do their best to get me a spinal but that if things went south too quickly they would have to put me out.

A second move took me to the operating room. The anesthesiologist arrived and got the spinal in right away. It would take four minutes to work and in the mean time, they prepped me. Chris arrived once I was ready to go. As he sat down, I saw the concern in his eyes and gave myself permission to feel sorry for myself. We both shed a couple tears-- out of fear and out of mourning for the birth we had imagined. Without discussing it, we both realized the moment had come and passed and now it was time to suck it up and focus on our baby's birth. The anesthesiologist grabbed us tissue and then gently talked us through the whole procedure. I expected there to be some level of pain or discomfort, but he must have done his job well because other than movement, I felt nothing. Within minutes, my baby boy (confirmed by the anesthesiologist, "It's a boy!") was brought into the world. Chris went to him and I laid, behind the sheet, smiling like an idiot as I heard the nurses describe his chubby cheeks. Chris announced, "He's huge!" to which I replied, "You said that about Norah, too." "And she was!" he rebutted. The 9 lbs 7 oz on the scale confirmed it. The 22" on the measuring tape also confirmed why his in-utero activity had been so draining on me.

Chris left with our boy so he could be checked out by the NICU nurses (as is the case with all emergency c-section babies). I rested my eyes while they sewed me up. The smile didn't leave my face.

They brought me to recovery and gave me the necessary i.d. bracelet so that Chris could be given his and the baby could be released to him. My doula arrived-- phone trouble had stopped the message from getting through. While I was telling her our story, Chris and our boy showed up.

"So, are we going with Nolan?" The name had been my first choice. I'm not sure if Chris had come around to it or was conceding to my desire, but it didn't matter. "I think we should." I replied. We made our requisite phone calls to announce Nolan's arrival.

We asked the nurse (and the two nursing students) to check on the whereabouts of my placenta as we had decided to encapsulate. After questioning our intentions, they stepped out to see what they could do. Chris also stepped out and overheard the nurse skeptically discussing our decision with the students and so Chris stepped in to "inform"them of the benefits to counteract her uninformed rant.

After retrieving my placenta, we were released to Mother Baby. The new, private room, was spacious and bright. I am a little confused as to why there are fridges in the labour and delivery rooms but not in this unit. Fortunately, my dear friend packed us a cooler full of delicious, nutritious goodies to help me through my stay, which C picked up when he ran home to shower and get things together at the house.

There's a lot more to share about our stay at the hospital, but I'm running out of steam. I'll pick up where I left off, soon.