March 1, 2011

Not quite according to plan

Posted in motherhood, pregnancy, Uncategorized at 5:37 pm by bethmillett

Tuesday, February 8, I posted an update on the pregnancy, commenting that I had five weeks left and I hoped to use that time (now that the home improvements were complete and there were only a few loose ends for the nursery, etc.) to write a few more blog entries about becoming a single mom by choice.

Little did I know that in less than 24 hours, I was going to be a single mom by choice! Here are all the gory details…

Wednesday morning, my alarm went off at 5 a.m. When I rolled over to turn it off, I felt a little pop and some moisture. It wasn’t enough to worry me, though, because I ended up hitting the snooze button three times. I remember thinking “Oh, maybe that was my mucus plug,” which can fall out early but isn’t necessarily a certain predictor of impending birth. Or, maybe my bladder had leaked, which happens sometimes when I sneeze or laugh too hard.

So, when I did get out of bed and go to the bathroom, I said “Oh, wow!” when I saw how wet my pajama pants were. Then I looked in the toilet and saw blood. (I said something a little stronger than “Oh, wow!”) There were a few minutes where I acted like a chicken with my head cut off — there wasn’t enough blood that I was worried I was hemmorhaging and needed to call 911, but I knew I would need to be checked out. It never occurred to me that my water had broken.

I called the doctor’s office and talked to the on-call service. While I waited for the doctor to call back, I gathered up a few toiletries, but my brain was racing and I couldn’t quite decide what clothes or other items I might need to bring. I also texted my friend/birth coach Angela to let her know that there might be some action today. The nurse called back very quickly — the doctor was already in the OR doing a c-section — and I described what had happened. She said what I knew she would, which is that I should come in and get checked out. So, I grabbed my laptop, my purse, and a book and drove myself to the hospital.

While I was in the car, Buster woke up and started kicking around, the way he always had been, so I knew he was doing okay. I also called my mom and left her a message. Just the night before we had talked about the time window during which I should call versus e-mail or text to let her know what was going on, and we had decided that I would call if it was after 6 a.m. It was 6:07. She didn’t answer, so I left a message, trying to sound as calm as I could.

At the hospital, they checked me into triage. When I changed into the gown, I noticed that the blood had slowed down a lot, so that was a relief. The nurse asked lots of questions, hooked me up to monitors, took my vitals, and waited very patiently when Mom called back and I filled her in on what little I knew. I told her I’d call back when I knew more. The doctor arrived and said he’d do an exam to see if 1) I was in labor (he doubted it) 2) my water had broken (he suspected it) and 3) how everything felt. He wasn’t worried about the baby, since they were watching his heart rate closely, and he was doing just fine. So, after an exam, the doctor knew the answers — no labor, but yes, my water had broken, which meant Buster was on his way. They would hook me up to Pitocin to move the contractions along and monitor us both closely. He suggested that the bleeding was a result of my cervix trying to get ready. He reassured me that 35-week babies are technically preemies but often do very, very well. So, everyone was very calm about it, although I started to cry (with joy and excitement) when he said that today would be the day.

Mom and I reconnected and I told her the good news. She and Dad had already been looking at flights and getting themselves organized. Then I was moved into a labor and delivery room where I got hooked up to all kinds of IVs and things, while I also fired up my laptop and starting sending e-mails to the office and people. I updated my Facebook page and the good wishes and congratulations started flying in.

Angela called me around 7:30 or 8:00, amazed and excited. (She had missed my two texts and voice mail and instead had first seen my Facebook update!) I assured her I was fine and that she should take her time putting her daughter on the bus and gathering up her things. (She of course, had not packed her bag either!) Then, she would stop at my house and pick up things we would need for labor (these are called “comfort measures,” like heating pads, massage devices, hard candy, etc.) and come to the hospital. The contractions were steady, every few minutes, but very weak and very tolerable. I was mostly worried about how long this would take, given that my body was not showing any signs of being interested in labor. I also hadn’t eaten anything since the night before, and I hadn’t had my precious diet Coke that morning. I knew I was going to get pretty bored and pretty cranky.

Angela arrived around 11:30ish. The nurse was turning up the Pitocin every half an hour, until we reached the max. I caught Angela up on everything, and we started watching a movie. Every once in a while, Angela would look over at me, and then the monitor. I’d say, yup, just had a contraction, but on a scale of one to 10, it was probably a two. I could definitely feel them, but there was no need for any comfort measures, distraction or pain meds. It was going to be a long day (and maybe night).

Around 3:00, the nurse came in to check my vitals and Angela stepped out to eat a snack. (So nice of her not to eat in front of me!) I reclined the bed a little bit, to find a new position since my butt was going numb in the uncomfortable bed. I felt a gush of fluid and buzzed the nurse back to the room. She took a look and said, “Yes, that was blood. I’m going to call the doctor now.” Now that I knew I was still bleeding, and that things weren’t progressing, I began hoping we could just get it all over with by doing a c-section. I had heard from a lot of people that they weren’t a big deal and recovery had been just fine.

At some point, the nurse mentioned that the doctor who examined me when I first arrived had found a blood clot the size of his fist. That sounded a little alarming, and I was glad he hadn’t mentioned it to me at the time! But she reassured me that Buster was doing fine, and this was my blood, not anything from the placenta.

So, Dr. Richardson arrived about 4 p.m. and did a quick exam (ooh, very uncomfortable). He said I was only one centimeter dilated, which did not make me happy. Then he said, very gently, that given that I was still bleeding and had so far to go, it might be time to consider a c-section. I think I blurted out something like, “Dude, I’ve been thinking about that for a couple of hours. Let’s do it!” No one seemed in an incredible rush, so I pointed out that my parents would be arriving in about an hour and a half — did he think we could wait? He said he’d rather not, and I said no problem, let’s go!

The anesthesiologist came in and ran through the process and the spinal block he’d be given me. He spoke at the speed of light and was bouncing all over the room, looking at my IV, checking my charts, etc. When he left, Angela said, “Wow, think he has ADD?” I left my sister and my mom voicemail messages. Mom and Dad were still in the air, and I had arranged for my friend Marie to pick them up.

In the next half an hour or so, they ran more fluids into me, got me into a surgical cap and gave Angela her scrubs (which were large enough to hold several people). She’d be able to join after I had my spinal and was all settled in. As Dr. Richardson and my great nurse Jen rolled me into the OR, there was a lot of joking and giggling. I couldn’t believe it was all happening so fast.

The 10 minutes after the spinal was administers were the worst part of the whole process. The drugs cause your blood pressure to plummet (hence the extra fluids earlier) and I threw up a whole bunch. The anesthesiologist had prepared me for all this, so I knew it wasn’t a bad thing, and he was really nice during the whole thing, suctioning out my mouth and wiping off my face. But I remember thinking, “If this is what I’m going to feel like the whole time, I’d rather they just put me under.” Thankfully, it passed, and Angela came in to sit by my head and soothe me. As soon as the surgery started, I began crying, again out of joy and excitement. I couldn’t believe that something I had wanted for so long was about to happen!

I’m not sure what time the cutting started, but I didn’t feel a thing and at 4:59 p.m., out came Buster! Angela, who is a nurse, peeked around the curtain a few times to see what was going on, but I was just as happy not to see what was going on. Apparently, all my innards were out on my tummy.

He weighed 5 pounds, 15 ounces. Because he was a preemie, there were staff from the special care nursery who cleaned him up and checked him over. He started crying a moment or two after he came out, and Angela hovered taking pictures. The doctor came over and explained that he seemed to be in really good shape but that they were going to keep an eye on his breathing for a little while.

I double-checked that he was really a boy and everyone laughed. They wrapped him up and Angela brought him over to me while Dr. Richardson finished sewing me up.

The doctor did find a dead fibroid in my uterus, and removed it for pathology to check out. When I met with him a week later at my checkup, he confirmed that’s what it was, and that he suspected that is what caused the abruption and my water to break. It’s not a big deal, apparently, and not something I need to worry about much in the future.

We returned to the labor and delivery room, and Angela went to bring my mom back to meet Evan. I was still pretty loopy, but I remember that Mom and Dad and Marie each came back to the room to say hi, and I threw up in my water pitcher as some point. Then, the nurse told me that they were still a little nervous about Evan’s breathing, so they were taking him up to the special care nursery. While he was up there, my parents left (or they may have left before he went upstairs — I’m not sure), and Angela packed up all our stuff and I was moved to a recovery room on the third floor.

Evan was in the special care nursery for about two hours and when they brought him to me, explained that everything had settled down with his breathing. He hadn’t needed any intervention or supplemental oxygen, but they had wanted to have him close to all those things in case he had. From that point on, he was fine, and stayed in my room for the whole stay.

I will try to do a better job of keeping the blog updated, now that we’ve settled in at home. (Evan turns three weeks tomorrow and is already up to six pounds, six ounces!

Permalink