Long overdue birth story
Logan Alexander was born on Tuesday, July 13th at 10:35pm weighing 8lbs 12oz and measuring 21 inches. He is perfect.
The reason I've been so slow to update is because he was born via c-section and recovery from the surgery has been difficult, to say the least. But we are home and settled and I can finally share my birth story...
My original birth plan was simple...as natural as possible, no epidural, yadda yadda yadda. I wanted to have skin on skin time with the baby as soon as he was born and I wanted to breastfeed as soon as possible. I wanted my hubby to cut the cord after it has stopped pulsing. My pregnancy was very healthy and stress free with no complications to speak of. So why should the birth be any different? I felt like the hospital we are at is really progressive when it comes to promoting breastfeeding and minimal procedures (it has the lowest c section in the state.) I was flexible and realized that aspects of our plan could fly out the window if there were any medical complications. The only thing I really didn't want to do was to have a C-section... I just find them terrifying, and I bonding with my baby was really important to me.
Late at night on Monday the 12th, I had dozed off on the couch as we watched a movie. I awoke around 1:30am Tuesday morning needing to pee and while I was in the bathroom, my water started to break. At first I thought it was pee, but it just kept coming. It was a slow dribble so I wasn't sure at first. I made my way over to the tub. After standing there for a couple minutes and realizing the waters were continuing, I called my husband into the bathroom. I was having very mild, and very irregular contractions. But they quickly escellerated and intensified, so we called the Dr and she recommened we come on in to L&D. By this point is was 2am.
We called the car service (we live in Brooklyn, hospital is in Manhattan) and were on our way. Thanks to some extremely inconvenenient road construction we had to walk the last block to the hospital. This was the most excruciating walk I've ever made. The contractions were growing in intensity, but there were still breaks in between. We went to L&D and were told to wait a moment in the waiting room while they got our room ready. It was in the waiting room when things really REALLY picked up. My water completely gushed. And I was feeling nautious. I threw up in the garbage can and couldn't find a position that would ease the pain. The pain was not limited to just contractions at that point. There was pain in between the contractions, to the point where it felt like it was just one contraction overlapping the next. It seemed to take forever to get into our room. But when we finally got there, I was already 4 inches dialated and 70% effaced. I was trying everything we learned in birthing class to handle to pain. But it was just too much. I had always taken solice in that there would be a break in between the contractions. But no...no breaks...it was unbearable. Time for the epidural.
Getting the epidural was the best decision I ever made. I was able to relax a little and let my contractions do all the work. The process of getting it was painful, and it was so difficult to keep still while they were inserting the tube. But it was TOTALLY worth it.
Fast forward to Noon...My doctor arrived for her shift and we exchanged pleasantries and joked about how no one ever delivers on their due date, so this was something special. She checked me again and I was fully dialated and fully effaced. The baby just hadn't dropped low enough to start pushing yet. Heart rate and blood pressure were still great, so we kept waiting for my boy to continue his journey down to the birth canal. I was excited, thinking that my baby would be here soon.
We waited, and waited. And waited. Then waited some more. Everytime they checked, the baby was still in the same place. My doctor suggested a little pushing to see if we could get him moving. He would seem to move down with each push, but each time I stopped pushing, he would retreat back to his original position. Because my water had already broken, they were eager to get things going. My contractions were still strong and should have been moving the boy down. What was going on?
Turns out he was posterier and I was having back labor. Another shift change...my doctor had to leave and the next doctor came on. This doctor, I had only met once. She seemed nice when I met her. but looking back on the whole experience of the birth, she did everything I didn't want and her bedside manner was horrible. When she went to check my progess, she pushed him back in a little bit to see if he would re-drop in a better position. Yes, you are reading correctly...she PUSHED HIM BACK IN?!?! And she didn't tell us that was what she was doing until after the fact. I was furious. Well, turns out the kid didn't like that one bit and his heart rate (which has been strong and steady throughout the labor) started to drop and I head the words c-section floating around the room. They had me change positions to all-fours to help his heart rate. That position is hard to hold when you can't feel your legs. My husband was amazing...helping support my legs by climbng on the table and creating a "seat" for me to support myself in that position. The heartbeat improved and it looked like we were going to be okay.
Time to check again. He still hadn't moved down, and he was still posterior. They put an internal monitor on the boy. (Another peice of equipment that gives me the heebie jeebies). The Dr. said the best thing to do at this point is to have a c-section. I started to freak out. I said, I really don't want a c-section if it can be avoided. At this point, is the baby okay? Am I okay? Can we talk about options? Her reply was a cold, "yes, you and baby are fine, but the longer we wait, the higher the chance of infection." Then she gave me a derogatory question..."Why don't you want a c-section?" I was so angry at her, and frustrated at the situation that I didn't even know how to list the many reasons I didn't want to be cut open on a table and throw away the chance of any early bonding with my baby. I was speechless...so I just started to cry. She said, "I'll give you a moment" and left the room.
My husband did an amazing job of keeping calm and cool through the whole situation and helped me think it through and just reminded me that all that matters is that both our son and I come out of this heathy. I decided I wanted to try every option possible before agreeing to a c-section, so we asked that I get a chance to do some REAL pushing. The Dr. agreed. After two hours of agnozing pain and pushing harder than I ever thought I could Hubby kept saying "I can see the head! You're doing it!!!" I was determined not to have a c-section and damnit, I was going to push this baby out! But apparently in between pushes, the head would disappear out of sight again and again. The Dr. checked...he hadn't moved at all. And they had detected muconium in the fluids, indicating the baby might be in distress. I felt so defeated and finally gave in to the c-section.
My epidutal was topped off and I was given Vallium in preparation for surgery. So the rest of the procedure is kind of a blur...but I do remember moments. I recall having my armes strapped out straight...I remember them shaving me...I remember that there were two people in Dr.s clothes talking about tennis (?!)...I remember this immense pressure...I remember my husband saying it's all going to be okay...I remember shaking and shivering uncontrollably...I remember hearing my baby cry...I remember that I was sobbing throughout the whole procedure...I remember them trying to show me the baby, and I was unable to focus on him...I remember saying "Hi, I'm your mom" in between sobs. Then I don't remember anything.
I woke up in a daze. We were in the recovery room and my hubby filled me in on everything. The baby is healthy and in the nursary. I was on a morphine drip that I could control with a little red button. We should be able to move up to the maternity room in about 2 hours and I'd get a chance to feed him then. We hadn't decided on a name yet...we had a few options lined up and wanted to decide on a name after we met him. My hubby said he looked like a Logan, but I'd have to see for myself. After the two hours, I was informed that they didn't like my blood pressure levels and they wanted to hook me up to a Magnesium IV for 12 hours. Again, I got extremely upset. I needed to see the baby! And I needed to try breastfeeding! And I asked when I could see the lactation consultant. My husband went up to the nursary to check on our baby boy and they were getting him ready to come down to join me in the recovery room so I could feed him. That made me feel so much better. They would keep him in the nursary, but he would be brought down to breastfeed when he needed it. I breathed a sigh of relief.
They brought him down and I fianlly got to meet my son. He's perfect and the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. Then a twinge of panic set in. I had no idea how to breastfeed this helpless little creature. Again, I asked..."can I please see the lactation consultant?" The reply was "The next nursing class is on Friday." WHAT?!?! I was told there is a Lactation Consultant on duty every day! I was also told that the nurses are trained to help with Breastfeeding. Well, apparently, not the ones in Recovery. She was this rigid Russian woman who just replied with "I don't know how to help you." So I was left to fend for myself. And I did my best. The nurse saw me struggling...because of my confusion and the pain I was in, and I was starting to freak out about not being able to care for my own child. So she came over to lend a hand...which ended up being her grabbing my boob and pulling it over to my sceaming child. She was not successful in getting him to suckle...but she did manage to leave two really intense bruises on my left breast.
But I did manage to get him enough to settle down and head back up to the nursary. This pattern repeated itself throughout the twelve hours I was there. A few notable characters came and left the recovery room while I was down there. There was one mother who was on her cell phone yelling at her movers for charging extra for having to use the stairs instead of an elevator. She was going berserk! At times I found it funny...other times, I found it irritating. All I could think about is how I couldn't wait until I could leave this room and go to our room upstairs. My blood pressure was being taken every 30 minutes and the nurses kept saying it was was looking good. They took me off the morphin drip and started me on Percaset (sp?) I focused on the 12 hour mark. 4pm.
The twelfth hour came and the nurse came down and said that they didn't think my BP was improving enough and they wanted to keep me for another 6 hours. I nearly punched her in the face. I was so upset. I don't remember how long I freaked out for. But I managed to calm down enough to sleep through as much of those last few hours as possible. FINALLY they removed my cathedar and my Magnesium drip and I was moved to our maternity room. It was the happiest moment I had at that hospital.
We were glad to be in our own private room and surrounded by nurses who were caring and nurturing and took care of me. We decided on the name Logan Alexander Forrest. Our other options were good as well...Collin, or Jackson had been on the top of our list for the majority of the pregnancy. We had thought of Logan just 2 days before. But after meeting him, he was definitely a Logan. Each nurse I saw, I asked about help with breastfeeding. I kept getting different variables of the same answer..."The breastfeeding class is on Friday at 9:30am. Great. No one could help me before then? How was I supposed to feed Logan for the next few days??? Every time I tried, I burst into tears in frustration. And so did Logan. But he managed to be getting something. I asked every nurse that came through if they could help me with breastfeeding. They seemed sympathetic to my ordeal, but none was able to help me. I developed painful blisters on my right nipple because he wasn't latching correctly. It hurt so much.
One nurse tried to help me the morning of our last day, before the class. She was starting to have a little luck with us when the hospital pediatrician came flying in, saying "I need the baby." "Seconds matter here." And he snapped his fingers at me. I wanted to punch him too. He scared the first HELPFUL nurse away!
Finally I went to the nursing class. I sat through the hour, trying not to cry. It was all the same info I head read in the books. I just need someone who could help me hands on. I approached Rachel, the Breast feeding workshop instructor and filled her in on everything I had been through. She was shocked and appalled by the lack of support and she came to our room directly after the class. Rachel was a godsend. Just little adjustments here and there, and he was eating like a champ. Rachel was upset by what we had gone through. She couldn't believe that people kept telling me to wait until Friday! She explained that there was always a Lactation Consultant there at hospital and she didn't know why my information wasn't in any of her paperwork. She stayed with me until I felt comfortable and left me her card. I love Rachel.
So overall, it was an experience full of both beautiful and traumatic moments. But in the end, I had a healthy baby boy. And I know it's cliche, but that's all that really mattered.
Advice: Have a plan. Stick to the plan as best you can. Be ready to throw the plan out the window.
WELCOME BABY LOGAN!
xposted
The reason I've been so slow to update is because he was born via c-section and recovery from the surgery has been difficult, to say the least. But we are home and settled and I can finally share my birth story...
My original birth plan was simple...as natural as possible, no epidural, yadda yadda yadda. I wanted to have skin on skin time with the baby as soon as he was born and I wanted to breastfeed as soon as possible. I wanted my hubby to cut the cord after it has stopped pulsing. My pregnancy was very healthy and stress free with no complications to speak of. So why should the birth be any different? I felt like the hospital we are at is really progressive when it comes to promoting breastfeeding and minimal procedures (it has the lowest c section in the state.) I was flexible and realized that aspects of our plan could fly out the window if there were any medical complications. The only thing I really didn't want to do was to have a C-section... I just find them terrifying, and I bonding with my baby was really important to me.
Late at night on Monday the 12th, I had dozed off on the couch as we watched a movie. I awoke around 1:30am Tuesday morning needing to pee and while I was in the bathroom, my water started to break. At first I thought it was pee, but it just kept coming. It was a slow dribble so I wasn't sure at first. I made my way over to the tub. After standing there for a couple minutes and realizing the waters were continuing, I called my husband into the bathroom. I was having very mild, and very irregular contractions. But they quickly escellerated and intensified, so we called the Dr and she recommened we come on in to L&D. By this point is was 2am.
We called the car service (we live in Brooklyn, hospital is in Manhattan) and were on our way. Thanks to some extremely inconvenenient road construction we had to walk the last block to the hospital. This was the most excruciating walk I've ever made. The contractions were growing in intensity, but there were still breaks in between. We went to L&D and were told to wait a moment in the waiting room while they got our room ready. It was in the waiting room when things really REALLY picked up. My water completely gushed. And I was feeling nautious. I threw up in the garbage can and couldn't find a position that would ease the pain. The pain was not limited to just contractions at that point. There was pain in between the contractions, to the point where it felt like it was just one contraction overlapping the next. It seemed to take forever to get into our room. But when we finally got there, I was already 4 inches dialated and 70% effaced. I was trying everything we learned in birthing class to handle to pain. But it was just too much. I had always taken solice in that there would be a break in between the contractions. But no...no breaks...it was unbearable. Time for the epidural.
Getting the epidural was the best decision I ever made. I was able to relax a little and let my contractions do all the work. The process of getting it was painful, and it was so difficult to keep still while they were inserting the tube. But it was TOTALLY worth it.
Fast forward to Noon...My doctor arrived for her shift and we exchanged pleasantries and joked about how no one ever delivers on their due date, so this was something special. She checked me again and I was fully dialated and fully effaced. The baby just hadn't dropped low enough to start pushing yet. Heart rate and blood pressure were still great, so we kept waiting for my boy to continue his journey down to the birth canal. I was excited, thinking that my baby would be here soon.
We waited, and waited. And waited. Then waited some more. Everytime they checked, the baby was still in the same place. My doctor suggested a little pushing to see if we could get him moving. He would seem to move down with each push, but each time I stopped pushing, he would retreat back to his original position. Because my water had already broken, they were eager to get things going. My contractions were still strong and should have been moving the boy down. What was going on?
Turns out he was posterier and I was having back labor. Another shift change...my doctor had to leave and the next doctor came on. This doctor, I had only met once. She seemed nice when I met her. but looking back on the whole experience of the birth, she did everything I didn't want and her bedside manner was horrible. When she went to check my progess, she pushed him back in a little bit to see if he would re-drop in a better position. Yes, you are reading correctly...she PUSHED HIM BACK IN?!?! And she didn't tell us that was what she was doing until after the fact. I was furious. Well, turns out the kid didn't like that one bit and his heart rate (which has been strong and steady throughout the labor) started to drop and I head the words c-section floating around the room. They had me change positions to all-fours to help his heart rate. That position is hard to hold when you can't feel your legs. My husband was amazing...helping support my legs by climbng on the table and creating a "seat" for me to support myself in that position. The heartbeat improved and it looked like we were going to be okay.
Time to check again. He still hadn't moved down, and he was still posterior. They put an internal monitor on the boy. (Another peice of equipment that gives me the heebie jeebies). The Dr. said the best thing to do at this point is to have a c-section. I started to freak out. I said, I really don't want a c-section if it can be avoided. At this point, is the baby okay? Am I okay? Can we talk about options? Her reply was a cold, "yes, you and baby are fine, but the longer we wait, the higher the chance of infection." Then she gave me a derogatory question..."Why don't you want a c-section?" I was so angry at her, and frustrated at the situation that I didn't even know how to list the many reasons I didn't want to be cut open on a table and throw away the chance of any early bonding with my baby. I was speechless...so I just started to cry. She said, "I'll give you a moment" and left the room.
My husband did an amazing job of keeping calm and cool through the whole situation and helped me think it through and just reminded me that all that matters is that both our son and I come out of this heathy. I decided I wanted to try every option possible before agreeing to a c-section, so we asked that I get a chance to do some REAL pushing. The Dr. agreed. After two hours of agnozing pain and pushing harder than I ever thought I could Hubby kept saying "I can see the head! You're doing it!!!" I was determined not to have a c-section and damnit, I was going to push this baby out! But apparently in between pushes, the head would disappear out of sight again and again. The Dr. checked...he hadn't moved at all. And they had detected muconium in the fluids, indicating the baby might be in distress. I felt so defeated and finally gave in to the c-section.
My epidutal was topped off and I was given Vallium in preparation for surgery. So the rest of the procedure is kind of a blur...but I do remember moments. I recall having my armes strapped out straight...I remember them shaving me...I remember that there were two people in Dr.s clothes talking about tennis (?!)...I remember this immense pressure...I remember my husband saying it's all going to be okay...I remember shaking and shivering uncontrollably...I remember hearing my baby cry...I remember that I was sobbing throughout the whole procedure...I remember them trying to show me the baby, and I was unable to focus on him...I remember saying "Hi, I'm your mom" in between sobs. Then I don't remember anything.
I woke up in a daze. We were in the recovery room and my hubby filled me in on everything. The baby is healthy and in the nursary. I was on a morphine drip that I could control with a little red button. We should be able to move up to the maternity room in about 2 hours and I'd get a chance to feed him then. We hadn't decided on a name yet...we had a few options lined up and wanted to decide on a name after we met him. My hubby said he looked like a Logan, but I'd have to see for myself. After the two hours, I was informed that they didn't like my blood pressure levels and they wanted to hook me up to a Magnesium IV for 12 hours. Again, I got extremely upset. I needed to see the baby! And I needed to try breastfeeding! And I asked when I could see the lactation consultant. My husband went up to the nursary to check on our baby boy and they were getting him ready to come down to join me in the recovery room so I could feed him. That made me feel so much better. They would keep him in the nursary, but he would be brought down to breastfeed when he needed it. I breathed a sigh of relief.
They brought him down and I fianlly got to meet my son. He's perfect and the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. Then a twinge of panic set in. I had no idea how to breastfeed this helpless little creature. Again, I asked..."can I please see the lactation consultant?" The reply was "The next nursing class is on Friday." WHAT?!?! I was told there is a Lactation Consultant on duty every day! I was also told that the nurses are trained to help with Breastfeeding. Well, apparently, not the ones in Recovery. She was this rigid Russian woman who just replied with "I don't know how to help you." So I was left to fend for myself. And I did my best. The nurse saw me struggling...because of my confusion and the pain I was in, and I was starting to freak out about not being able to care for my own child. So she came over to lend a hand...which ended up being her grabbing my boob and pulling it over to my sceaming child. She was not successful in getting him to suckle...but she did manage to leave two really intense bruises on my left breast.
But I did manage to get him enough to settle down and head back up to the nursary. This pattern repeated itself throughout the twelve hours I was there. A few notable characters came and left the recovery room while I was down there. There was one mother who was on her cell phone yelling at her movers for charging extra for having to use the stairs instead of an elevator. She was going berserk! At times I found it funny...other times, I found it irritating. All I could think about is how I couldn't wait until I could leave this room and go to our room upstairs. My blood pressure was being taken every 30 minutes and the nurses kept saying it was was looking good. They took me off the morphin drip and started me on Percaset (sp?) I focused on the 12 hour mark. 4pm.
The twelfth hour came and the nurse came down and said that they didn't think my BP was improving enough and they wanted to keep me for another 6 hours. I nearly punched her in the face. I was so upset. I don't remember how long I freaked out for. But I managed to calm down enough to sleep through as much of those last few hours as possible. FINALLY they removed my cathedar and my Magnesium drip and I was moved to our maternity room. It was the happiest moment I had at that hospital.
We were glad to be in our own private room and surrounded by nurses who were caring and nurturing and took care of me. We decided on the name Logan Alexander Forrest. Our other options were good as well...Collin, or Jackson had been on the top of our list for the majority of the pregnancy. We had thought of Logan just 2 days before. But after meeting him, he was definitely a Logan. Each nurse I saw, I asked about help with breastfeeding. I kept getting different variables of the same answer..."The breastfeeding class is on Friday at 9:30am. Great. No one could help me before then? How was I supposed to feed Logan for the next few days??? Every time I tried, I burst into tears in frustration. And so did Logan. But he managed to be getting something. I asked every nurse that came through if they could help me with breastfeeding. They seemed sympathetic to my ordeal, but none was able to help me. I developed painful blisters on my right nipple because he wasn't latching correctly. It hurt so much.
One nurse tried to help me the morning of our last day, before the class. She was starting to have a little luck with us when the hospital pediatrician came flying in, saying "I need the baby." "Seconds matter here." And he snapped his fingers at me. I wanted to punch him too. He scared the first HELPFUL nurse away!
Finally I went to the nursing class. I sat through the hour, trying not to cry. It was all the same info I head read in the books. I just need someone who could help me hands on. I approached Rachel, the Breast feeding workshop instructor and filled her in on everything I had been through. She was shocked and appalled by the lack of support and she came to our room directly after the class. Rachel was a godsend. Just little adjustments here and there, and he was eating like a champ. Rachel was upset by what we had gone through. She couldn't believe that people kept telling me to wait until Friday! She explained that there was always a Lactation Consultant there at hospital and she didn't know why my information wasn't in any of her paperwork. She stayed with me until I felt comfortable and left me her card. I love Rachel.
So overall, it was an experience full of both beautiful and traumatic moments. But in the end, I had a healthy baby boy. And I know it's cliche, but that's all that really mattered.
Advice: Have a plan. Stick to the plan as best you can. Be ready to throw the plan out the window.
WELCOME BABY LOGAN!
xposted