July
9, 2014: Still No Baby
Last we left, I had been in labor
just shy of 24 hours (it was now 1:00am; 2:30am would mark 24 hours). After all that time, I had only progressed in
dilating by 1cm and was now at 3cm. Up
to this point, I hadn’t taken any medical measures to ease the pain of
labor. I was simply taking each
contraction as it came and working through it until it was over. I was walking
a lot, which helped the contractions to keep coming more regularly, but that
meant I wasn’t connected to the fetal heart rate monitors. So, every 45 minutes I was hooked up to the
monitors for 15 minutes to make sure Baby Boy was doing okay. Each time we checked, he was doing great.
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| Text between Brandon and my SIL, Nancy |
By this time, we had yet another
nurse, Mindy. Coincidentally, Mindy’s
mom, Cindy, taught the breastfeeding class we had taken through the hospital
because she’s a lactation consultant (which is ironic because my mom’s name is
Cindy and she is a lactation consultant).
At one point, I was in the bathroom sitting on the toilet (this was one
of the positions that was suggested in my labor class). Brandon was in there with me and I was
telling him that I was just starting to wear down, physically. I just felt like I needed some rest to be
able to keep going, but there was no way to rest through the contractions.
Mindy must have overheard us talking and she stuck her head into the bathroom
and suggested a round of Stadol. It would have minimal effects on the
baby but causes drowsiness for mom.
Coming into labor, I hadn’t really considered any of the non-epidural
options for pain relief. So, I have to
say I wasn’t completely researched on Stadol.
But it had been covered in our natural labor class as an option, so I
had at least a basic understanding of it.
I had wished my midwife was there to weigh in, but she was likely at
home snoozing since it was the middle of the night. However, Brandon and I agreed it seemed like
a good option for me to get some rest and the laborist on duty okayed it. So around 2:30am, I was administered a dose.
Since the Stadol made me drowsy, I mostly
stayed in the bed (or stood next to the bed) while contractions continued.
Baby Boy was continually monitored during this time since I was remaining
stationary. My mom gave Brandon a break
and sat with me for a while. Brandon hadn’t eaten during my entire labor,
he said if I couldn’t eat, he wouldn’t either.
But after more than 24 hours, he needed food! Plus, since I was going to be getting some
rest, he felt okay about eating. So
while my mom sat with me, he ate, what he said, was the best chicken parmesan
he’d ever had (I think it had something to do with the fact that he was *so*
hungry).
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| Text between Brandon and my Mom |
I have barely any memory of this time
since I was so drowsy, but from what I was told, I was pretty loopy and spoke
in partial sentences that didn’t make much sense. The Stadol was in my system about 4
hours. Brandon said that the time wasn’t
as restful as he had hoped it would be for me, as I was relaxed and loopy but
not able to sleep through the contractions, although it did help me to not care
that I was having them. But the bit of
rest I did get, helped my body get to 4 cm. I was obviously hoping to
have dilated more, but at least it was progress, so I was trying to count my
blessings.
One thing to note at this point is that
before my labor had even started, I had asked my midwife not to tell me what my
progress was. To quote my Birth Plan
(which we all know what they say about making plans), “I am fine being routinely checked for progress such as dilation, but I
would prefer not to be told what it is, this will keep me from getting
discouraged if things are going slowly.”
So, all the numbers I’m listing here are things that I found out after
the fact, except for when I was checked after I had the Stadol. The laborist working during the night checked
me and said “4 centimeters” without knowing of my intent to stay in the dark
about such info. I knew I was
progressing slowly, but I have to admit, I was a bit shocked to find out that
after about 28 hours of labor, I was only at 4cm.
 |
| Texts between Shannon and Brandon |
At 7:00am, we had another shift
change and our nurse was the same woman who taught our natural labor class,
Iniko. Also back that morning was my midwife. We dubbed them the “Dream Team” because they
were both highly in favor of natural labor and because I was so comfortable
with both of them. Iniko was a God-send
when I was starting to get really discouraged (after hearing I was only at 4cm).
She praised my efforts thus far and gave me new determination to stay the
course. She reminded us of a couple
techniques to try and kept encouraging me to keep going. We talked through a few potential options with
my midwife, in case things kept progressing as slowly as they were, but she
didn’t seem worried or ruffled about it all.
She was encouraged that I had progressed with the Stadol and wanted to
see what the next few hours would bring.
Brandon also told me he had some good news in his back pocket for when I
got discouraged again.
Around 9:00am (30.5 hours in), my midwife
ordered a breakfast tray for me, to keep my strength up. I had previously
been forbidden to eat (hospital rules -- even though Nurse Terri had given me
jello the day before….ssshhhh, don’t tell!), so I was pretty happy to scarf my
breakfast down! Well, most of it any way....I let Brandon have the
potatoes.
This smile is a tired one, and a
slightly drowsy one (from the remnants of Stadol), but a real one, nonetheless.
I had had some food and lots of encouragement to boost my mood.
Between 9:00am and 2:00pm, Brandon
and I walked the halls of the labor and delivery department some more. We
just kept walking around and around. It
was like the slowest, most painful Nascar race ever. However, the walking helped keep the
contractions coming more regular, so I continued my slow race around the
L&D department. When a contraction
came on, I would stop walking and breathe through it – next to the nurse’s
station, another laboring mothers’ door, or even next to the janitor’s closet –
wherever the contraction hit, I stopped & breathed through it. Thankfully, there wasn’t a lot of traffic in the
hallways, mainly nurses and the occasional doctor or orderly. So I wasn’t contracting in front of too big
an audience or an audience who wasn’t used to a laboring woman. But, I didn’t really care either way. Because the walking kept my labor more
regular, audience or not, I was trying to walk as much as I could.
As we circled the halls, we overheard
snippets of conversation here and there.
Down one hallway, two doctors were swapping stories. One of them was telling the other that they had
gotten a call one time from a new parent asking how to keep the pacifier in the
baby’s mouth while it slept. The parent
actually asked if they could use a rubber band to hold it in!?! They were laughing about that and it made us
giggle too. We would be those new
parents all too soon asking the doctor crazy things as well. Brandon said later, “At the time it sounded super-crazy but after having a newborn that won’t
sleep without a paci in his mouth, I totally understand!”
After many, many laps, I got tired
and needed to rest my feet which were just working
against me. They had begun to hurt so
very badly by this point in my pregnancy, my big ole belly weighing down my
“freakishly high arches,” as Brandon calls them. I had the forethought to bring a square
rubber mat to the hospital that I could stand on, but my feet were just too
sore for it to make much of a difference.
I took time to rest my feet and sit on the bed between
contractions. It seemed I always wanted to be standing during the
contractions though, this was less painful for me, maybe it had something to do
with how low I carried Baby, maybe not, but sitting down and having pressure
anywhere on my stomach or my nether-regions made the contractions more
painful. I also seemed to be able to
focus better when I was standing eye-to-eye with Brandon.
I had prepared a small notebook
beforehand of Bible verses to read during labor if I got discouraged. Brandon read those verses to me and we both cried. We were reminded of the Lord’s goodness and promises. We were blessed with this child and the
sweetness of that permeated our labor room in that moment. It was really starting to hit us that we
would meet our little guy very soon.
I
Samuel 1:27-28 - I prayed for the child, and the Lord has granted me what I
asked of him. So now I give him to the Lord. For his whole life he will be
given over to the Lord.
Psalm
32:7 - You are my hiding place; you will protect me from trouble and surround
me with songs of deliverance.
Habakkuk
2:5 - Though it linger, wait for it; it will certainly come and will not delay.
Romans
8:25 - But if we hope for what we do not yet have, we wait for it patiently.
I had also brought an iPod loaded
with relaxing/uplifting music and a dock with speakers. We listened to the music some, but at times
it was more distracting to keep it on for long.
I enjoyed the quiet a lot more than I expected I would. I didn’t factor in that everything was
amplified during labor. The music was
too loud, even when it was barely turned up.
Plus, it was hard to focus on breathing and mentally zoning in to get
through the contractions when the music was playing. I would focus on the music instead of what
was at hand. Going into it, I really
thought the music would help take my mind off the contractions, but it turns
out that I needed to focus on them instead.
Unfortunately, we didn’t keep a record of my contractions during this
time (the others we kept in an app on Brandon’s phone). But, according to texts from Brandon to our
friends, they were 2-3 minutes in duration and pretty intense.
After all the steady contractions
& walking for the last 5 hours, I was eager to hear that I was making some
headway. But my midwife checked me and
said I had made zero progress in
dilating any further. And because the doctor the previous night had
announced my progress, I know knew that I hadn’t moved from 4cm. To say I was discouraged is an
understatement. I was feeling completely
defeated. I felt like everything I had
been doing was a waste. All that
walking, all that breathing, all that energy spent mentally getting though each
contraction hadn’t gotten me anywhere. At
this point, I asked Brandon what the good news in his back pocket was, as I was
in desperate need of encouragement. My midwife
had told him (several hours before) that the baby was at 0 station (he had
dropped & settled into my pelvis, but hadn’t started his descent to the
birth canal) and I was completely effaced (my cervix was 100% thinned). So that was something positive to focus on
amidst the defeat. It meant my body was
doing *something* it should. But I was
simply not dilating. I was getting close
to just giving up. Not because I didn't think I could mentally keep doing
the natural labor, but simply because my body wasn't cooperating and doing its
part to get the baby out.
Our nurse, Iniko, could easily see my
defeat. She asked our midwife about a round of Morphine. Our midwife
agreed that the Morphine could be a great way to really relax my body without
slowing the labor and thus could help me get back on track with dilating as I
should be. It could “reset” my labor, if you will. I was nervous about taking the Morphine
because it could cause me to be nauseous and it could have some effects on the
baby (if he was born shortly after he could be drowsy or have respiratory
troubles). But since I was only at 4cm (and stuck there nonetheless), Brandon
and I agreed that we were still several hours from meeting our little guy and
that it could not only help me progress in labor, but let me get some more rest
(since I was now about 36 hours in with only 4 hours of semi-rest). An
added bonus was that our nurse told me I likely wouldn't feel the contractions
while it was in my system.
 |
| Texts between Shannon and Brandon |
Around 2:30pm (36 hours), I was given
the Morphine, which was combined with Phenergan to counter-act any nausea. I soon fell asleep and Brandon (with my
blessing) took the opportunity to grab some food with our parents, since I
would be sleeping for a couple hours.
Our parents had been so vigilant all this time in the hospital waiting
room or snoozing in the cars. They all left
the hospital and went to a nearby McDonald’s (I think they were burnt out on
cafeteria food!).
About 20 minutes in, I woke up out of
a drug-induced sleep, screaming, with the most intense contractions I had felt
thus far. I quickly looked around the
room and discovered Brandon was still gone and I was completely alone. I realized I had to do this on my own until he
got back. I tried to keep panic from
setting in and found a spot on the wall to concentrate on. I didn’t have my glasses on, so most
everything was fuzzy and not easy to focus on.
But there was a big clock opposite of me that was easy to see, so I
fixated on it. The intense contraction
seemed to last forever as I stared at the clock and used my breathing
techniques. I screamed, bellowed, and
grunted through it until it was over. Shortly
after, I fell back into my drug-induced sleep.
Another 20 minutes passed….and the same thing. I felt as alone as if I was the only person
in the entire hospital. My screams
didn’t beckon anyone to help me. I don’t
know why I thought they would. Another
20 minutes, and it happened again.
I did gain confidence from getting
through these contractions by myself, but I was glad when the next time it
happened, Brandon was there with me again.
He had come back in while I was asleep and felt horrible when he
realized I had been waking up to the strong contractions by myself. But in his defense, when he left, I was
sleeping pretty soundly and we had no reason to believe otherwise. But, so much for the notion that the Morphine
would keep me asleep during the contractions.
It was as if my body saved up all the contractions for one big, huge,
strong contraction every 20 minutes instead.
For the next couple hours, I slept in 20 minute increments, waking
during the INTENSE contractions and then drifting off again. Thankfully though, the rest between the crazy
contractions did aid in progressing my dilation, but the bad news is that it
only got me one centimeter further. I
was now at 5cm after 39 hours of labor.
Because I didn’t progress as much as
hoped, my midwife thought that breaking my water could get us to the next
phase. I hadn’t wanted my water to be
broken (which she knew and respected), as it was just another medical intervention
that I was trying to avoid (it should be said that I’m not against medical
interventions when necessary, I just wanted my little guy to arrive without
them if possible). But, it felt like we
were starting to grasp at straws on how to get my body to progress. And honestly, at this point, I was willing to
throw my birth plan out the window if it meant getting the baby out any time
soon. Around 5:45pm my midwife broke my
water. I remember thinking it would hurt
or feel weird (like a snap when you pop a balloon) or something, but it really
just felt like I peed a bit. The fluid
color was clear, which was a sign that Baby Boy was doing good (thankfully he
always checked out great or we wouldn’t have kept going and trying things).
 |
| Texts between Scott, Alisha, & Brandon |
Between 6:00pm – 9:00pm, my contractions
were on average every 3 minutes and were 1-2 minutes in duration. At 7:00pm (40.5 hours), there was yet another
shift change. We got nurse Mindy again,
whom we had had the night before. I’m
sure she wasn’t expecting to see us again. But because we already had a rapport
with Mindy, I felt a connection to her.
She was a familiar face and that was comforting somehow. It was good that I felt comfortable with her
because by this point in labor, I was BURNING up and had literally stripped
down to nothing. No clothes at all.
The previous night, I had done my
best to stay modest. When walking the
halls I wore doubled gowns (one on the front side and one covering the backside
of me instead of relying on keeping it tied in the back), a sports bra, and hospital-issued
gauze underwear. This night however, I could absolutely care less about
modesty. I had systematically removed
each piece of clothing until there was nothing left to remove and I was still
burning up. The heat and the pain mixed
within me and as I stood there completely naked, bodily fluids of all sorts
running down my legs, I bellowed out growls and screams that were akin to
something primal. They came from deep
within and were guttural and powerful and I didn’t think twice about letting
them out (although I did get a good chuckle after the fact wondering what
people thought when/if they heard me. I
likely scared another expectant mom or two down the hall). Needless to say, I spent the next couple
hours laboring in my room.
Between 9:00pm-11:30pm, the
contractions continued to come closer together and last longer. They were on average 1.5-2.5 minutes long and
were every 2-3 minutes. So that means I was barely getting 30 seconds rest
between contractions at times, so it felt like things were really moving along
– finally! I also had a few outlying
contractions that were longer, one lasting more than 4 minutes (although the
day before I had two that were more than 6 minutes in duration!). I felt a gush during one contraction which we
thought was just more fluid, but it turned out to be bloodier. The Laborist on duty wanted me watched a bit
closer, so they had me sit or stand over Chux pads to capture whatever came out
of me. Thankfully there was no other
bleeding and Baby Boy continued to do great.
During the contractions, I focused on
Brandon’s eyes, working through the moments of panic and letting the pain, but
not panic, in. He kept me going and got
me through each contraction, "deep
breaths", "look at me", "stay with it." I could not
have done it without him. How he endured
my screams and managed to pull me back from the edge of panic while at the same
time giving me his strength and patience, I’ll never know. He was my rock. He reminded me that I was doing great and
that he was so amazed at me for my stamina.
I didn’t feel like I was doing anything all that amazing. I remember telling him something like “Well, I just keep taking the next
contraction and working through it til it’s over. It’s not like I can magically make them stop,
so I just keep going.” Even if, in
the middle of a contraction, I chose to get an epidural, it wouldn’t be
instantaneous. So for some reason in my
mind, just steadily working through each one until it was over and remembering
that I’d have to keep going even if I chose to get an epidural (because I’d
have to wait on them to come give it to me) helped me to just simply keep
getting through each one. And each one I
got through just kept me going to take the next one head-on. It’s weird how I would gain confidence from
working through each contraction that came, but somehow I did.
At 11:30pm, 6.5 hours after breaking my
water and 45 hours into labor, my midwife checked my progress again. There was none. No
progress in 6.5 hours of intense contractions, screams, and all-consuming
mental endurance. I was stuck….my body
was stuck at 5cm. I’m not sure whether
it was the shock of realizing that all I had been through was without reward;
if I was angry at my body or, even worse, God; or if I was just so completely
discouraged in that moment, but with tears starting to sting the backs of my
eyes and total defeat forming deep down inside, I yelled
“GET THIS KID OUT OF ME!!!”
My midwife agreed, it was time to do something
else. Basically she said, “This labor isn't doing what a normal labor
does and we need to do something different.
Continuing in this course of action isn't viable because of fatigue.” I fought the good fight, gave it the good
ole college try, and gave it my best shot…and then some. As disappointed that I was that my body
wasn’t progressing as it should, I was equally exhausted. The conclusion was for me to receive an Epidural,
and then begin Pitocin to encourage the contractions to dilate me further. At this point, there was no rush to do a C-section
since Baby Boy was doing fine and the Pitocin could help keep things
moving. I would be completely relieved
of the pain and things would still progress while I could rest my weary body.
 | |||||||||
| Texts between my brother and Brandon |
 |
| Texts between Mark, Anne, & Brandon |
July
10, 2014: D-Day is Here!
Finally, it’s Delivery Day! But not without more to the story, of course.
At 12:15am, I was just shy of 46 hours in. Nurse
Mindy came in and went over the epidural procedure with me and then had Brandon
start clearing things out of the way for Dr. Hayes, who I refer to as “His
Highness.” Mindy sheepishly explained
that the anesthesiologist was very particular and didn’t like anything in the
way of getting his cart in and out of the room and that he would get upset if
things were cluttered. So, my husband
had to move the chairs and rolling table out of the way – seriously?? – so that His Highness wouldn’t be put out for having
to grace us with his presence.
Dr. Hayes rolled in with his cart and
quickly set to work on prepping me for my epidural. The hardest part of the epidural process for
me was not having Brandon in the room.
I’ll still never understand why they don’t allow husbands in for this
part…? The other hard part was having to
sit on the bed and lean forward and hunch over as far as I could for the
procedure. I find this hard to do when
I’m not 41 weeks pregnant (which I
now was exactly 41 weeks). Mindy was
such a great comfort during this part.
She wrapped her arms around me and helped me lean over and told me to
just hold onto her. I can’t imagine what
my breath smelled like by now. 46 hours
without brushing my teeth = YUCK. But if
it smelled, she never flinched as I breathed heavily and tried with all my
might to lean over. If there was any
pain associated with the epidural, I didn’t feel it. But maybe by this point a tiny bit of pain
couldn’t even register.
Once the epidural was in, Brandon was
allowed to come back in. It was at this
moment that things changed and I became a hospital patient in a way I hadn’t
been up to this point while Brandon became a bystander. Before now, he had been my partner in labor,
coaching me and guiding me through each contraction. Now, he could only stand by and watch and I
could only lay there and wait for my body to respond to the medicine. Our sweet time of connecting and relying on
each other was over. But, we were thankful
that that time had brought us together in such a unique way that we look back
on with fondness. And we are also
thankful for the hospital and the expertise of the midwife and nurses around us
who would safely bring our little guy into the world, even if it meant having
medical interventions to do so. The
point of all this was to have a baby, even if it didn’t happen how we hoped it
would.
Between 12:15am-4:45am, I finally
started to dilate more, getting to 7cm. My
memories of this time are fragmented and foggy.
My body was so tired but I couldn’t really sleep. Even though the pain was gone, I was just
anticipating Baby Boy’s arrival. There
are some moments I remember very clearly though. Mindy had been in and out of our room several
times at this point, so when she came in somewhat urgently one time, I could
tell she was concerned. Her actions were
deliberate and focused. She moved me
onto my side so she could see better vitals from the baby. I was also put on oxygen to help.
As time went on, Mindy kept coming in
to adjust me more and more. Baby’s
vitals were just not quite where she wanted them. Once his heart rate started dropping, we
quickly decided it was time to get him out of there. So, at 4:45am, under my midwife’s direction,
we decided on a C-section. She cited
“Fetal Intolerance to Labor” and I was passed from her care to the care of the
doctor who would perform the C-section. We
knew things would get rolling pretty quickly at that point. As soon as a C-section was mentioned, I said to
Brandon, “Call our parents and tell them
to get here – this will happen fast.”
Our parents had *finally* decided to head to our house for some sleep (for
the first time since they had arrived 2 days before, other than dozing in their
cars) and they weren’t gone for more than a couple hours when we let them know
the news. As they woke up and quickly
headed back to the hospital, Brandon and I were prepped for surgery.
At Mindy’s direction, Brandon stayed
back in the labor room and dressed in scrubs, while I was wheeled into the
operating room. The OR staff transferred
me from my stretcher to the OR table.
Dr. Hayes (His Highness) was back again and would remain in the OR
throughout my surgery. He stretched both
of my arms out from my body and laid them somewhat firmly onto boards that
extended out from the bed ( I read that they do this for easy access to your
IV’s and that sometimes they even strap your arms down, however, mine were
never strapped down). Soon after this,
the nurses realized they needed to shift me over some more, so they had me
cross my arms on my chest so they could move me. Don’t ask me where His Highness was when this
happened because the next thing I knew, he was asking (rather rudely), “Why did you move your arms?” I couldn’t even get an answer out before he forcefully
placed each arm back onto the boards.
Brandon wasn’t present for this interaction but came in shortly
after. He said later that had he been
there he would’ve had words with him for how he was treating me. Once Brandon came in things quickly started rolling. Dr. Hayes must have upped my epidural or
maybe it was the anxiousness from the entire situation or knowing I was about
to be gutted like a fish, but my body started to shake uncontrollably. Along with the shakes, I started
moaning/grunting on a consistent basis, kind of like my own little symphony of agony.
Dr. Hayes (annoyed with me again) asked,
“Are you in pain?” to which I
answered “No.”
“Well
then why are you moaning?” he questioned.
“Because I’m nervous, scared,
tired….”
Sheesh.
I just had to put His Highness out of
my mind. All I cared about was seeing my
Baby Boy.
The C-section went quickly and,
although some people say they feel pressure or tugging, I don’t remember
feeling anything of the sort. I was
barely awake during the whole procedure and so maybe that aided in my
unawareness of it. I remember almost
holding my breath when they said he was out though. And hearing his cry for the first time was a
mix of total relief and pure joy. The
doctor on call (Dr. VanNess) delivered him at 5:17am and shortly after she
asked, “Do you want to see him?” I said, “Sure.” (Still makes me giggle that I said “sure” like it was no big thing or
something. But I think I was caught off
guard by being asked if I wanted to
see him, instead of them assuming I wanted to, like I would say no? But, I digress).
When I close my eyes I can still
picture what he looked like when they raised him over the curtain for Brandon
and I to see. He was ALL cheeks and dark
hair! His right side was facing us,
elbows bent at a 90 degree angle and he had his fists clinched. He was all scrunched up and mad as a hornet
and crying. He was the most beautiful
thing I’d ever seen and his cry was literally music to my ears. Even now, as I write this, I cry at the memory
of seeing him for the first time and realizing how much I loved him
already. He is our beautiful gift from
the Lord, our sweet, precious boy.
Once he was out and we saw him, they
set to work cleaning him up and accessing him, while I was cleaned out (yuck)
and sewn up.
Brandon was invited over to take
pictures.
As evidenced by the above picture, I
dozed off for a bit and the next thing I remember is Brandon bringing the baby
around to my side of the curtain so we could take our first official family
photo together.
When all was said and done, I labored
51 hours (about 46 naturally*), we went through 5 shift changes…..had 5 medical
interventions (including the epidural), and topped it off with a C-section. So, the natural, shorter, non-medical labor I
hoped for was anything but! And call me
crazy, but I don’t regret any part of it.
It’s not perfect, not neat and tidy, not even close to being what I
thought it would be, but I love every part of it and would do it all over again
for our little Jedi.
*Maybe some would argue that my pre-epidural
labor isn’t entirely considered natural, and I get that, I had meds to help
cope with the pain. But personally,
because I still felt strong & very painful contractions even with Morphine
in my system, I consider most of my pre-epidural labor to be natural. But feel
free to disagree with me.
