As Fidget approaches her 5th birthday, I am finding it necessary to revisit her birth. She is a very needy person, wanting constant interaction, constant touching. If she's not engaged in some way, she paces back and forth through the house, randomly pausing to fidget with something. She has issues with anxiety and depression. I wonder how much of this relates to her birth.
I became pregnant with Fidget when Bookie was about a year and a half old. She was still nursing, and after consulting with the local LLLI group I found that it was safe for me to continue nursing her during my pregnancy. I committed myself to nourish both of my children, born and unborn.
It was hard though. As my milk dried up, nursing Bookie made my skin crawl. And the headaches. Oh the headaches. At least one, sometimes two or three migraines a week. I would drink cup after cup of water, thinking it was dehydration that was causing them, but it never helped. Nothing did. Dan would take Bookie outside to play, or watch videos with her while I would lay in bed with a heating pad over my eyes, trying to get some relief.
Other than the headaches and the normal nausea, there were no problems. We were eagerly anticipating the arrival of our Valentine's day baby. Then, on Thanksgiving day, my water broke. I was standing at the sink washing dishes and all of a sudden I felt a trickle. I thought I had wet my pants, but I hadn't. We called friends and asked them to take care of Bookie while I went to the hospital to get checked out. I called my midwife, who practiced at a hospital out of town and she directed me to the local hospital, saying that if the baby (we still didn't know her gender at this point) came early, we would want to be at the hospital with the best NICU.
So I went in. I can't even remember what all the tests were that they ran. I know they checked for "ferning". Ferning was key. If ferning showed up on the test strips that meant that there was amniotic fluid present, and my water had indeed broken. I asked if this meant that I would have to wean Bookie and they said yes. They also told me that I would have to stay in the hospital until the baby was born or six weeks, which ever came first.
Six weeks meant Christmas in the hospital, and New Years. I had a 2 year old I needed to take care of, but couldn't. My mom moved down to N.C. for those weeks to take care of Bookie. She could come visit me in the hospital, and could stay overnight if there was someone to stay with her. It was the worst holiday season ever.
They decided to induce me on January 2. The doctors had worked together and arranged their schedules so that I would be assured of an all female staff. The night before the induction I asked for two Ambien, because I knew I needed to rest, but I still couldn't sleep. They came and got us at 6am and took us to the L&D room. First they tried cytotec, to help ripen my cervix, but that didn't work, so they hooked me up and started giving me pitocin. The contractions came, but were bearable. Nothing really seemed to be happening. I think I managed to get to four cm. So the upped the pit. After about seven hours on pitocin and still no real advances, they checked me again. Then they told me they would have to break my water.
You're reading that right. During that period of bed rest, my bag of waters had sealed itself. So all of it was unnecessary. But there was no turning back. They broke my water. It was the most horrible experience of my life. I remember trying to crawl backwards up the bed, wanting to get away from that awful hook. After that, things picked up, though not as fast as I would have liked. I remember having a serious string of contractions and telling my nurse and midwife (who came to be my doula) that if I was still at 5 centimeters the next time they checked me, I was going to get an epidural. The nurse responded "well then we're not going to check you". I think it was about 15 minutes after that I was ready to start pushing.
I pushed for about 40 minutes. At one point I started to have a panic attack. I seriously considered getting up and running out of the room. I pushed, and I birthed her. The nurse delivered me because the doctor didn't know how to catch the baby when the mom delivered on her hands and knees.
They took her across the room immediately so the NICU team could take a look at her. I was flipped onto my back so that the doctors could stitch me up. The NICU nurse told me she thought she was stable enough for me to hold her, so they laid her on my chest. I was flat on my back, without my glasses on. I had trouble seeing her, trouble trying to get her into position to nurse. I struggled, and she struggled and the nurse took her back, down the hall and up two floors to the NICU. I lay there for an hour or more while the doctors still worked to repair me. Finally they were done and they took me upstairs to see my baby.
Dan was with her. She was on the last corridor, the one reserved for babies that require the most supervision. She was on a respirator. She was in a little plastic box and I could do nothing to help her. Nearly five years later it still upsets me and I still cry. I sat there with her for a few moments, then they took me downstairs so I could get washed. I stayed in the hospital for the maximum of three days allowed. I loved being able to walk up and see her whenever I wanted. I would page my way inside, scrub my hands and make my way back to her bed. And I would look at her, and if the nurse would let me I'd hold her.
Fidget was in the hospital for 12 days. Born at 34 weeks, weighing 4lbs, 13oz.
To be continued...
No comments:
Post a Comment