On September 27, I had another appointment with my midwife, one day before my due date. At the appointment my blood pressure was as high as it had ever been and the decision was made that something had to be done to induce labor. We decided that she would strip my membranes and then the next day, we would go to the hospital to start some other induction processes such as using a Foley catheter and, if that failed, start a Pitocin drip. Obviously, the Pitocin was low on my list of things I wanted to do.
So she stripped my membranes at around 1:30 or so and told me to expect bleeding and cramping as those usually accompany the procedure but it wouldn’t necessarily mean that I was in labor.
I did start having cramping and bleeding. About 5 I noticed that I was having cramps that were 1-2 mintues in length and 2 minutes apart. But this could hardly be labor, could it? There was nothing gradual about the contractions, if that is what they were. Troy had run to the grocery store and got back around 6 and I told him that I thought I was in labor but wasn’t sure. I decided that I would call my midwife and ask her. Just as I went to get my phone, *pop*, *gush* and *oh!*, my water broke so it was clearly labor, after all.
We grabbed the bags and headed out the door (after making sure the cats were set for the next day or 2 on their own). By that time the contractions were only about a minute apart and getting very strong. It took a half an hour to get to the hospital. There was, of course, an accident on I-75. Troy drove up to the exit we needed along the berm of the road. I was concentrating on trying to control the pain and pretty much hoping that we would make it to the hospital on time.
Despite my desire to walk into the hospital under my own power, the trip in the car had made the contractions stronger than I could manage to walk through. So into the wheelchair it was. Walking would probably have helped me and helped the contractions ease up but as I could not talk, just breathe, I was not thinking so coherently. We got to the labor and delivery unit, Troy answering all questions for me….except when they got me into the room and told me they would get the epidural for me in just a few mintues. Well, that got a response from me, if nothing else could: no medication pls kthx! After the interminable questions and being forced to stand up and put on a gown and a monitor, we were allowed to get on with birthing. I sat on the birthing ball for a few mintues but the whole time I had been really wanting to get into the shower. So that’s where we went and were I sat for about the next half hour until they kicked me out because they needed to readjust the ridiculous monitor. I could hardly stand up because the contractions were so strong and close that every time I tried it, it was excrutiating. I got up though…and felt the strong need to push
They wanted to check my dilation and got me–how, I do not know–onto the bed. The resident came in and checked…4 cm. He left and I told the nurse that I really felt the need to push. So she checked me again right away and low and behold I was actually at 9 cm. Hm. Resident hasn’t maybe had too much practice yet w/ the whole dilation thing.
So we breathed through a couple contractions and then got the go ahead to push. Which took forever. And forever. Every time I pushed, I pushed hard and long and we never got any closer. I thought the baby would never come. Finally he was crowning but then it seemed like he just stayed there. Come on, baby. They lowered the mirror so I could see his head. I touched his little head, all warm and wet and wrinkly. I know I said how weird it felt…everyone laughed but it did feel strange. Not like a head at all.
Finally, after 35 minutes, his head came out. then his body. This was the time for him to be put on my chest, to have time for him to snuggle with us, for Troy to cut the cord after a little while. For us to hold the new little life that had just come into the world.
He was put on my chest. But for only about 10 seconds as my OB rapidly cut his umbilical cord. I had sight of his blue-tinged face, his long waxy body that even in 10 seconds I could see that was not doing what it should be doing, all floppy and not moving. Then he was whisked away, over to the incubator where the nurses and the OB did things to him, things that we couldn’t see and that didn’t involve us. I was left in the hands of the residents to deliver the placenta. They told me everything was ‘ok’.
Obviously, it wasn’t.
In retrospect, I suppose what they meant by ‘ok’ was ‘not dead’.
Baby was taken away, taken to the care unit of the hospital. I remained in bed, trying to deliver a placenta, being stitched up. Troy stayed with me. We were both confused. My mom came in. I remember seeing the look on her face as she saw a scene of, not a mom and dad and baby snuggling cosily together, but a worried looking dad and, probably, a zoned-out mom being worked on. and no baby.
The stitching was endless. But still no baby.
Troy and my mom went down to the care unit to be with him and hold his hand and talk to him.
Finally they came and told us. It was likely that Miles had suffered from oxygen deprivation at some point during delivery. He was floppy and unresponsive when he had come out and they had given him oxygen. His Apgars were 2, 4 and 5. He was in the care unit now and was breathing on his own but they wanted to take him to a NICU to give him a special cooling treatment to ensure that he didn’t suffer any seizures and did we agree to that treatment?
“Oxygen deprivation”, “seizures”? Too much to take in but of course we would agree to anything at that point because what parent would withhold a treatment that could prevent brain damage in their child?
We decided that Troy and my mom would go with Miles to the NICU while I stayed in the hospital for the night. At around midnight, they brought him in in some kind of space capsule-looking incubator, as if he were going to the moon instead of 10 blocks away. I held him then for about 2 minutes, finally, at last, before they whisked him away again.
I didn’t find out till much later that Troy had never even gotten to hold him and didn’t get to for 4 days later. How sad that made me.
The room I stayed all alone for the night had a night view of the city. It looked west, though, out over the hospital parking lot and toward a more industrial area of town, not toward the river. I wasn’t thinking of the less-than-spectacular view, of course. But I watched the moon; it was a full moon that night.
I didn’t sleep much. I dozed here and there andsat in bed and waited for phone calls from my mom or Troy. When they came, though, they were hardly comfortable–they had put Baby on a cooling blanket and he just shook and shivered that whole night, crying with his little chin quivering.
That night was a long night.
