- Mrs. Gremmlin
- 3 years ago
- Wedding: November 2011 - Florida Aquarium
I was due December 1, I had a non-stress test on December 5th with a membrane sweep. The baby ended up doing so-so on the NST (her heart rate wasn’t accelerating through movements like the OB wanted), so my OB did a BPP in the office. She still didn’t get the movement she wanted, so she sent me to the hospital, noting that it was possible they would induce me that day– but she also told me I could say no.
My husband and I got to the hospital, and they hooked me back up for another NST for about a half hour or so. This time, the doc said she wasn’t really concerned and was pleased by my contractions. She still sent me for another BPP to be on the safe side. This one, the little one passed with flying colors. And we even got to see a 3d ultrasound and the tech very nicely gave us some face pics.
So, the doctor ended up sending us home. Thankfully!
On Monday, December 9th, however, I went back to the OB for another NST– and we went through the whole circus again. But, this time, (spolier) I was induced.
I walked in the hospital at 3pm and was 4 centimeters dilated and had a great Bishop Score. Because the NST still didn’t look hot, my OB recommended induction. I laid there in the hospital bed, and asked my doctor, “Well, do you have time to induce me today? I’m happy to wait until Wednesday.” To which he responded, “Are you serious? Yes, Stephanie, I have time.” Because of my awesome stats, he said the baby would be born my 9pm. Well, he was wrong.
Since I had hit 37 weeks, I was dilated and effacing well. The baby was engaged. All of my OB’s (my practice has 7) said I wouldn’t make it to my due date. Here I was, eight days beyond it and headed for induction. All of my OB’s said an induction wouldn’t be problem because of my Bishop Score. I believed them and was confident I’d have the natural, vaginal birth I had been planning.
By 4pm, pitocin was started and my doctor released my waters. Holy moly! That’s a whole lotta water. It just kept coming. My OB was fine with me moving around as long as I was on the monitor, but I just kept leaking. Gross! My contractions picked, but I was breathing through them. My brother came to chill with us around 6. I was trying really hard not to show the pain. I was doing really, really well, too. However… by 11pm, I was still just 4 centimeters.
At this point, I broke. Contractions were 1.5 minutes apart, but I just wasn’t progressing. I went to the bathroom and just started bawling. I knew at that point that I couldn’t make it without an epidural because even if I did make it ten centimeters at some point, I would have NO energy to push. So I did what I swore I wouldn’t do… I asked for an epidural. My husband was disappointed for me and tried to talk me out of it. I sent my brother home because I was a mess and obviously the baby was taking her sweet time. I felt so defeated and betrayed by my body. I had been walking around at 4 centimeters… how the hell could I fail now?! At this point, I started screaming in pain… but the pain wasn’t any worse. I had just given up.
Since I was a little girl, I was determined to never have an epidural because one of my mom’s friends became paralyzed because of a botched epidural. The epidural placement wasn’t bad at all, though. The way I deal with pain is to be really, really still, so the anesthesiologist was pleased. He was in and out quickly. Almost immediately, the pain went away. It was midnight, so I got some sleep. I could still feel my feet and move my legs enough so that I was convinced I wasn’t paralyzed.
At 2am, I had finally made it to 8 centimeters. I asked my doctor if I’d make it to 10, and he assured me I would. Finally at 6am, I had made it to 10 centimeters. At 6:30am, I started pushing. I pushed until 7, and I had been deemed a failure. So, they turned off my epidural because I couldn’t feel the contractions enough to push. During this time, I started throwing up– a lot. My nurse was great– she gave me mouthwash after each time. haha, it’s the little things.
At 8am, after a new shift of nurses a change of doctor (to my favorite doctor), I pushed for two more hours. It was so difficult. I was trying so hard. I kept throwing up. I felt so sick. I was pretty miserable.
My husband was great– he was holding my leg up, so he was much more involved than planned. I’ll never forget the look on his face when the nurse told him to help. He only hesitated a moment before jumping in.
Despite trying so hard. I just couldn’t get her to move. My OB came in and expected to catch a baby, but there was no movement at 10am. At that point, even without pushing, she told me, the baby should have moved down. I was so sad, but all I wanted was a healthy baby. I had been watching the monitor, and my baby’s heart rate wasn’t doing so well, and I had a slight fever. My OB also told me that 2 hours is pretty much there limit for pushing, but she’d work with me a little longer if I wanted.
At that point, I called it. I told her I was okay with a c-section. She said she hated turning to the c-section since I was 10 centimeters, but I was showing signs of infection and the baby wanted to be out. She started spouting the stats about c-sections… I didn’t really care. All I wanted was a healthy baby.
By 10:36am on December 10, we had a beautiful baby girl delivered by a third doctor. For some reason the doctor who was going to induce me on the 11th was also at the hospital, so she did my c-section.
While they were stitching me up, my husband held our daughter. My first question was about her hair color. My husband walked over to me with her, and I asked if he wanted to name her Felicity… he said, “Nah, let’s do Luciana.” I had had in my head that if she was blonde, she’d be Luciana, if she was a red head, she’d be Felicity. Luciana weighed in at 8 pounds 13 ounces, 21 inches long. I’m quite petite (under 5 feet), so her size played into the need for a c-section.
Pretty soon thereafter, we were transferred to the immediate recovery cubical thing. As soon as I could feel one arm, I held my daughter. We did skin to skin. She was sucking on her hand so loudly that the nurses popped their heads in a commented. I tried to nurse, but she preferred cuddles. (we nursed once we got into our private room)
I was at peace with having a c-section. My doctor was apologetic since I had come so far and she knew how important the birth was to me. There was absolutely no pressure. I still feel like I was an active participant in her birth. I tried so hard, but in the end, this was the best option for us.
And the recovery…
The most annoying part of it all was that I could only have liquids for the first 24 hours. Man, I was starving. In the middle of the night, my blood pressure was so low, the nurse snuck me some crackers. I was encouraged to walk around pretty much immediately. It was hard, though. I couldn’t move really quickly or bend really well, so my husband had to get Luciana and give her to me. We nursed. A lot.
She was born on a Tuesday, and we went home Thursday. I was taking percocet every 4 hours. Emotionally, I was a mess. I cried pretty much day and night for the first week. I wasn’t sad about Luciana… I was sad about the c-section and just overly emotional in general.
For the first 2.5 weeks, I was so swollen, I cried. My entire lower body was 4 times its normal size, and that sucked. I actually had to go to target to buy bigger jammies because not even my maternity stretchy pants fit. I couldn’t get my feet in my shoes, either. I was miserable.
I was lucky to have my husband home with us for the first three weeks. We were able to bond as a family, and I got plenty of help. I tired out really easily, and having him home helped me get through the days and nights.
At 7 weeks now, we’re great. Luciana sleeps through the night. I still have to get up every 3-5 hours to pump, though, because my left boob gets so sore when it’s not milked. I’m dreading going back to work at 12 weeks. America sucks in terms of maternity leave.
Throughout it all, though, I’ve never resented Luciana or been really frustrated with her. My husband is amazed by my patience. She’s our daughter, and I get that she’s brand new. All of this is scary for her, and I just want her to be happy. I’ve always wanted to be a mom, and I’m thankful for every moment.