Birth Story
Finally finished writing up my memories of Miranda's birth...
I spent the hours leading up to our midnight admission packing my bag, eating a good meal (mom’s chicken soup) and getting more and more nervous about what lay ahead. We got to the hospital, went through admitting, and went straight up to the Birth Center. Oddly, they didn’t require a wheelchair, and for the first time I felt I could use one - the nerves were making me a little dizzy.
We got up to our palatial birthing room and got settled in. I put on a gown with my ass hanging out. I realized I was going to spend a lot of time with my ass hanging out, so I tried not to worry about it. The nurse came and put in my IV (I was GBS+ and planning an epidural, so IV was a must). I was very frightened of the IV - the last one I had hurt like a bitch and left my wrist bruised for weeks afterward. Anyway, this IV barely hurt at all, which was a relief. They put on the external monitors.
She then checked my progress (or lack thereof) - fingertip dilated, 50% effaced - and put in the Cytotec (yes, big scary drug of internet lore). Internal exams were very uncomfortable, as my cervix was still very posterior and hard to reach, apparently.
Reid and I were supposed to sleep at that point, and we kind of did. The computer for the monitors kept making noise at me, and I just generally didn’t sleep well, but that was to be expected. I started having some crampiness that coincided with the contractions on the monitor, but nothing really painful. At some point I was checked again, and found to be at 1.5 cm, and another dose of Cytotec was administered.
My OB (Cheryl) arrived at 9:00 or so. She checked me again, and I was still at 1.5 cm. She decided to break my water. That hurt, but it was oddly satisfying to have something happen that seemed to represent progress. Contractions picked up after that, and started to get painful. They were strong and frequent, but not in a nice pattern - I’d have anywhere from 1 to 3 minutes in between, and sometimes I’d have two or three contractions on top of each other, meaning I’d go about five minutes without a break from the contractions. Miranda did not like these very well - she had some minor decelerations of her heartrate during the longer contractions. They decided to try the smallest dose of pitocin to try and regulate the contractions. It worked, sort of - they were still close, but seemed to be more evenly spaced at 1-1.5 minutes apart.
I called my mom (she was at my house) and let her know what was going on, and she joined us at the hospital.
I was checked again, and found to still be at 1.5 cm. By this time it was nearing noon, the contractions were painful and frequent, and I had been there 12 hours. I was offered the epidural, and I took it, gladly, feeling like the biggest labor wimp ever for only making it to 1.5 cm.
The epidural was frightening, but not painful. It took much longer to place than I was anticipating. Reid was there, and he got a look at the big needle. Once it started to take effect, I was very happy. I remarked that I thought everyone should get one - even people who weren’t in labor, it felt so good! After that, I laid around quite happily for a while, willing those contractions to do something. I even watched an episode of Friends (I had brought Season 4 on DVD). My dad arrived from Portland at some point in the afternoon.
They placed an internal monitor and found that the contractions were really strong - like those of someone 6 or 7 cm, rather than the 1.5-2 cm I was still at. Also, at times the contractions were continuing to come right on top of each other, without a break in between. They stop the pitocin to see if that helped.
Around 4:15 or so, I was still lying around, dozing. My parents had just been sent home to take care of the dogs and have something to eat. Several nurses came bustling in, but I didn’t pay much attention, as they had been coming in all afternoon. All of a sudden, they started turning me on my side and put an oxygen mask on my face. I caught a glimpse of the monitor - her heart rate was completely flat. More people rushed in, including Cheryl. They want me to get on my hands and knees, and I threw myself into that position, despite having no feeling in my legs from the epidural. I wanted to cry, but I was told to keep breathing regularly, so I did that instead. Reid was standing on the other side of the room, looking paralyzed. I called out to him and he came over and held my hand, which immediately helped me calm down and breathe slowly. A nurse jabbed a shot of terbutaline in my arm to stop my contractions - apparently Miranda’s heart rate stopped during a particularly long, intense contraction.
As her heart rate stabilized, the panic in the room subsided a little bit, except I was shaking like crazy from the terbutaline. Cheryl quickly explained to me that I was 2 cm dilated, and it looked like Miranda was not tolerating contractions well. The terbutaline had stopped the contractions, and it was time to have a c-section as soon as possible. I asked Reid to call my parents and have them come back immediately. A nurse told me that for an emergency c-section, the “support person” is not allowed to come back. Well, this finally made me lose it. I started crying and saying I couldn’t believe Reid wouldn’t get to see his daughter be born. Cheryl (my hero) told the nurse she wanted to allow Reid in, so they started getting him into his scrubs.
I was wheeled out to the OR. I met Bill, the on-call anesthesiologist. I was a little panicked about the anesthesia, and I kept asking Bill to make sure I didn’t feel anything. He was very nice about it, and didn’t get offended that I was questioning his skills (since making people not feel anything is basically his job). Once all the proper meds were in the epidural, I REALLY didn’t feel anything - even my arms felt a bit numb. Bill sat next to my head throughout the surgery, and let me know what was going on, answered my questions, and was generally a great support.
The surgery began, and at some point Reid came in and sat next to me holding my hand. Once he got there, the fear turned to excitement - our little girl was coming! There was a lot of pushing and pulling behind the curtain - Cheryl made a few mild jokes (like telling me, “This is when Dr. Markham stands on your chest,” during a particularly strong tugging moment), and then we heard a baby - our baby - cry out.
That was an amazing moment. Everything was all right, and I started crying with joy and relief. She was whisked to the warmer to be examined by the pediatricians, and Reid went to be with her. I wanted to tell the doctors and nurses standing around her to move out of the way so I could see her. Bill adjusted the curtains so I could try to catch a glimpse.
Finally, they brought her to me. I sort of held her with one arm and kissed her little face. Her eyes were open and her face was round and soft. They pulled back her hat so I could see her soft, brown hair.
Then she was placed in Reid’s arms so he could carry her to the nursery. I felt good that she was with her daddy, and I knew my parents were waiting anxiously in the nursery, ready to support Reid and be with Miranda during her first minutes.
Cheryl chatted with me while she stitched me up (she pointed out that I had fibroids - I guess she thought to look around a bit while she was in there). I guess it took awhile, but it seemed to go quickly. I was wheeled out to recovery, but got to pass the nursery on the way. Someone brought Miranda out so I could see her again. I tried to reach out to hold her, but I was handed three Polaroid pictures of her instead. I held onto those the whole time I was in the recovery room.
Recovery was strange. I felt fine, except I couldn’t feel hardly anything - by this point even my arms were almost totally numb (although I could move them). The recovery nurse bustled around doing who-knows-what, and I just waited patiently until one by one they removed monitors and machines. I was very relaxed - maybe too relaxed because at one point the nurse very nicely pointed out to me that I wasn’t breathing. Oops. But I guess I continued to recover without incident.
Finally, FINALLY, Reid came in, followed by a nurse wheeling Miranda in her bassinet. I got to see and hold my baby girl for the first time. Miranda was still wide-eyed and alert, despite 1.5 hours having passed since her birth. I told the nurse I wanted to breastfeed her right away, and she seemed pleasantly surprised. Miranda latched on eagerly, and I was in awe of the fact that I was actually nursing my baby.
I spent the hours leading up to our midnight admission packing my bag, eating a good meal (mom’s chicken soup) and getting more and more nervous about what lay ahead. We got to the hospital, went through admitting, and went straight up to the Birth Center. Oddly, they didn’t require a wheelchair, and for the first time I felt I could use one - the nerves were making me a little dizzy.
We got up to our palatial birthing room and got settled in. I put on a gown with my ass hanging out. I realized I was going to spend a lot of time with my ass hanging out, so I tried not to worry about it. The nurse came and put in my IV (I was GBS+ and planning an epidural, so IV was a must). I was very frightened of the IV - the last one I had hurt like a bitch and left my wrist bruised for weeks afterward. Anyway, this IV barely hurt at all, which was a relief. They put on the external monitors.
She then checked my progress (or lack thereof) - fingertip dilated, 50% effaced - and put in the Cytotec (yes, big scary drug of internet lore). Internal exams were very uncomfortable, as my cervix was still very posterior and hard to reach, apparently.
Reid and I were supposed to sleep at that point, and we kind of did. The computer for the monitors kept making noise at me, and I just generally didn’t sleep well, but that was to be expected. I started having some crampiness that coincided with the contractions on the monitor, but nothing really painful. At some point I was checked again, and found to be at 1.5 cm, and another dose of Cytotec was administered.
My OB (Cheryl) arrived at 9:00 or so. She checked me again, and I was still at 1.5 cm. She decided to break my water. That hurt, but it was oddly satisfying to have something happen that seemed to represent progress. Contractions picked up after that, and started to get painful. They were strong and frequent, but not in a nice pattern - I’d have anywhere from 1 to 3 minutes in between, and sometimes I’d have two or three contractions on top of each other, meaning I’d go about five minutes without a break from the contractions. Miranda did not like these very well - she had some minor decelerations of her heartrate during the longer contractions. They decided to try the smallest dose of pitocin to try and regulate the contractions. It worked, sort of - they were still close, but seemed to be more evenly spaced at 1-1.5 minutes apart.
I called my mom (she was at my house) and let her know what was going on, and she joined us at the hospital.
I was checked again, and found to still be at 1.5 cm. By this time it was nearing noon, the contractions were painful and frequent, and I had been there 12 hours. I was offered the epidural, and I took it, gladly, feeling like the biggest labor wimp ever for only making it to 1.5 cm.
The epidural was frightening, but not painful. It took much longer to place than I was anticipating. Reid was there, and he got a look at the big needle. Once it started to take effect, I was very happy. I remarked that I thought everyone should get one - even people who weren’t in labor, it felt so good! After that, I laid around quite happily for a while, willing those contractions to do something. I even watched an episode of Friends (I had brought Season 4 on DVD). My dad arrived from Portland at some point in the afternoon.
They placed an internal monitor and found that the contractions were really strong - like those of someone 6 or 7 cm, rather than the 1.5-2 cm I was still at. Also, at times the contractions were continuing to come right on top of each other, without a break in between. They stop the pitocin to see if that helped.
Around 4:15 or so, I was still lying around, dozing. My parents had just been sent home to take care of the dogs and have something to eat. Several nurses came bustling in, but I didn’t pay much attention, as they had been coming in all afternoon. All of a sudden, they started turning me on my side and put an oxygen mask on my face. I caught a glimpse of the monitor - her heart rate was completely flat. More people rushed in, including Cheryl. They want me to get on my hands and knees, and I threw myself into that position, despite having no feeling in my legs from the epidural. I wanted to cry, but I was told to keep breathing regularly, so I did that instead. Reid was standing on the other side of the room, looking paralyzed. I called out to him and he came over and held my hand, which immediately helped me calm down and breathe slowly. A nurse jabbed a shot of terbutaline in my arm to stop my contractions - apparently Miranda’s heart rate stopped during a particularly long, intense contraction.
As her heart rate stabilized, the panic in the room subsided a little bit, except I was shaking like crazy from the terbutaline. Cheryl quickly explained to me that I was 2 cm dilated, and it looked like Miranda was not tolerating contractions well. The terbutaline had stopped the contractions, and it was time to have a c-section as soon as possible. I asked Reid to call my parents and have them come back immediately. A nurse told me that for an emergency c-section, the “support person” is not allowed to come back. Well, this finally made me lose it. I started crying and saying I couldn’t believe Reid wouldn’t get to see his daughter be born. Cheryl (my hero) told the nurse she wanted to allow Reid in, so they started getting him into his scrubs.
I was wheeled out to the OR. I met Bill, the on-call anesthesiologist. I was a little panicked about the anesthesia, and I kept asking Bill to make sure I didn’t feel anything. He was very nice about it, and didn’t get offended that I was questioning his skills (since making people not feel anything is basically his job). Once all the proper meds were in the epidural, I REALLY didn’t feel anything - even my arms felt a bit numb. Bill sat next to my head throughout the surgery, and let me know what was going on, answered my questions, and was generally a great support.
The surgery began, and at some point Reid came in and sat next to me holding my hand. Once he got there, the fear turned to excitement - our little girl was coming! There was a lot of pushing and pulling behind the curtain - Cheryl made a few mild jokes (like telling me, “This is when Dr. Markham stands on your chest,” during a particularly strong tugging moment), and then we heard a baby - our baby - cry out.
That was an amazing moment. Everything was all right, and I started crying with joy and relief. She was whisked to the warmer to be examined by the pediatricians, and Reid went to be with her. I wanted to tell the doctors and nurses standing around her to move out of the way so I could see her. Bill adjusted the curtains so I could try to catch a glimpse.
Finally, they brought her to me. I sort of held her with one arm and kissed her little face. Her eyes were open and her face was round and soft. They pulled back her hat so I could see her soft, brown hair.
Then she was placed in Reid’s arms so he could carry her to the nursery. I felt good that she was with her daddy, and I knew my parents were waiting anxiously in the nursery, ready to support Reid and be with Miranda during her first minutes.
Cheryl chatted with me while she stitched me up (she pointed out that I had fibroids - I guess she thought to look around a bit while she was in there). I guess it took awhile, but it seemed to go quickly. I was wheeled out to recovery, but got to pass the nursery on the way. Someone brought Miranda out so I could see her again. I tried to reach out to hold her, but I was handed three Polaroid pictures of her instead. I held onto those the whole time I was in the recovery room.
Recovery was strange. I felt fine, except I couldn’t feel hardly anything - by this point even my arms were almost totally numb (although I could move them). The recovery nurse bustled around doing who-knows-what, and I just waited patiently until one by one they removed monitors and machines. I was very relaxed - maybe too relaxed because at one point the nurse very nicely pointed out to me that I wasn’t breathing. Oops. But I guess I continued to recover without incident.
Finally, FINALLY, Reid came in, followed by a nurse wheeling Miranda in her bassinet. I got to see and hold my baby girl for the first time. Miranda was still wide-eyed and alert, despite 1.5 hours having passed since her birth. I told the nurse I wanted to breastfeed her right away, and she seemed pleasantly surprised. Miranda latched on eagerly, and I was in awe of the fact that I was actually nursing my baby.