Labor of Love

Now, before you crucify me, let me first start by saying that I love my sweet Elizabeth and know she is a gift from God…

…but in the words of my friend Jewel, “Motherhood totally kicked my butt!” and of course, it’s only been two weeks for me. I have spent most of my days since coming home from the hospital in tears wishing my old life back when things were much simpler, I got plenty of rest, I could come and go as I pleased, and I was, well, pretty much number one. There is the constant looming of regret of things that I wish Brent and I would have done before this big change…places we should have gone, dates we should have had together…and the list goes on.

I also vowed I would not have any more kids. Not because I don’t want my big family, but because I don’t think I could go through the “process” again of getting them! My mom reminded me that I shouldn’t evaluate my situation as I am going through the storm of the first weeks...and it is a storm. My hospital stay was 5 days of no sleep before coming home to miss out on even more sleep, a long, bumpy labor, a child with an IV in her head receiving antibiotics for 48 hours after birth, and a physical healing that seems to be taking a very long time (I just visited the doctor this past week to receive antibiotics for my new friend, Mr. UTI) Brent reminds me to stop regretting what could have been done in the past and look forward to our family’s future together. He and my mother are very wise.

Oh yes, there is no amount of literature or stories from friends to prepare you for bringing a baby home. I dream of the good old days of having to get up every two hours just to pee and drinking a bottle of Mylanta every night just to take the edge off of the acid living in my throat. Those are the honeymoon days. Even labor and delivery of the baby is extremely easy, in my opinion, to the aftermath that is soon to follow.

Let me tell you, I am a much different person writing this entry today than I would have been a week ago when I really wanted to write it. I think God didn’t allow me the time to write to spare me from saying some things that I might have regretted later on!

So…let me go back in time. Brent and I decided a month before Elizabeth’s due date that we wanted to try a natural birth. It was kind of late in the game, but we were determined to make it happen. We read the Bradley book, did our exercises, and talked with friends who had previously gone natural. Some of my friends warned me, as did literature I read, not to hold on too closely to a birth plan because often times things change and we can’t control it. That was the case with us.

About three weeks before my due date, I went to the doctor for my usual check-up to see how far I was dilated and effaced. I was expecting the exam to be uncomfortable, but nothing could have prepared me for the extreme pain that came my way. It literally felt like a butcher knife was being shoved inside of me. I remember barely making it to my car before I just sat and cried over the shock of pain I had just experienced. I’ve never experienced pain that has made me cry (childhood aside).

That made me dread what I thought was going to be my next to last appointment before my due date (a week and a half before we were expecting Elizabeth). For whatever reason that I can’t remember now, Brent was able to make it to my appointment. I warned my doctor how painful the last exam was, and sure enough, the pain was excruciating once again. I mutilated Brent’s hand, almost came off the table, and listened to my doctor say she couldn’t understand why I was experiencing so much pain.

Because my amniotic fluid levels had been low the previous few weeks and it was time for another ultrasound anyway to track Elizabeth’s growth, the doctor decided to try and work me in for an ultrasound that day. They were able work me in, thankfully, and discovered that my level was at 6.4! That was down from the safe level of 11 I had, had the week before. They consider below 5 extremely dangerous because the umbilical cord can become pinched between her body and mine cutting off her supply of “oxygen” and nutrition.

So the news Brent and I were not prepared for…

”I’m sending you to have direct admission to the hospital because we need to pump fluids through you right away.”

“Okay, so then we’ll be coming home the next day?”

“No, we’re going to induce you gradually. You won’t be going home until you have the baby.” (This was Wednesday and they said I probably wouldn’t have her until maybe Friday, and then of course the 48 hours they make you stay at the hospital after delivery.)

Brent and I rushed home to grab our hospital bag, stopped at Chik-fil-a for lunch (which we ate in the car on the way to the hospital), and headed to Winnie Palmer.

I already saw my dreams of a natural non-medicated childbirth floating away. If you know anything about the Bradley method, relaxation is the key. Now that I needed to have an IV from the first day I entered into the hospital with fluids continuously flowing through me that made me have to use the bathroom every hour, it was going to be a challenge spending time on the birthing ball, resting, and getting comfortable. I was also hooked up to a fetal monitor and contraction monitor. On top of that, I would no longer be able to use the spa tub in my room to labor in until my water broke…something to which I was really looking forward.

The cherry on the pie? Knowing that I had a long…looooong labor ahead of me. However, in spite of this, I was still going to try. I have a high tolerance for pain.

Wednesday afternoon I was taken to the ante-natal unit of Winnie Palmer and hooked up to the IV. The first step of induction was not through my IV like I thought it would be. Cervidil is medication put right next to your uterus to start the induction process…which meant another exam…which meant me crying uncontrollably from the pain as the nurse had to do two “exams” back to back. Because I was hooked up to three different things and the residual pain from the exam wouldn’t go away, Brent had to help me get “unplugged” from the monitors, get out of bed, cart my IV stand to the bathroom and help me get back in bed…every hour… Of course, I had to keep track for the nurses how many milliliters I was drinking and how much I was expending.

The tech nurse came in every two hours to check my blood pressure and temperature.

I didn’t sleep that night.

Thursday morning at 5 a.m. the nurse came to start my second round of Cervidil, which meant taking out the old medicine pack and, yes, putting a new one in. Torture. What she found was that my body couldn’t handle another round of Cervidil and I needed to be taken to a labor and delivery room to start the Pitocin. The good news was Pitocin is given through IV. The bad news was that they would continue to check my dilation and effacement until I was ready to deliver.

Once I got to the labor and delivery room I was no longer allowed to eat. I could have a cup of ice chips, popsicle, chicken broth, or apple juice every hour. To be honest, at this point in my labor, I wasn’t really experiencing much pain, just fatigue and annoyance from having to have so much help moving around and getting up to use the restroom every hour. Brent and I spent time walking the halls and hanging out on the birthing ball, practicing my deep breathing with every contraction.

That’s when my doctor came in to see how I was progressing…I started crying before the exam started and said I didn’t think I could do it…but I had to. In reality, that type of exam only lasts 15 seconds, but when you experience the type of pain I experienced, it felt like an hour. This was the worst of them all. I arched my back, clawed Brent’s arm and was beyond crying…I actually screamed at the top of my lungs for her to please stop over and over again. I was so loud that nurses from that floor came running into my room because they didn’t know what was going on. The doctor then told me she would be back in two hours to break my water to speed things up.

After the doctor left and I gained my composure, I looked at Brent and apologized for the fact that I needed an epidural…ironically not because of the “pain of labor”, but because I couldn’t face another exam…

I got the walking epidural, but after an hour was confined to my bed because one of my legs went completely numb. Brent helped me get up every hour to drag myself to the bathroom from all the fluids.

Thankfully my water broke before the doctor came back to break it. Every exam that followed I didn’t feel.

My mom arrived from Asheville, NC around 4:30 that afternoon. I had already been in labor for 25 hours and was so thankful to see her. The decision of whether or not to let her be in the labor and delivery room when I had Elizabeth was one I hadn’t decided on…until I saw her that afternoon. She didn’t mind either way. Part of it was because of the modesty issue, and as silly as it sounds, part of it was because she didn’t know I had tattoos which she obviously would see at some point during delivery. If you know my parents, you know why this was a big deal. My family is very traditional and I think my parents would die if they knew that I had them. Of course, the bigger issue was me just feeling like I had disappointed them in some way…Brent kept reminding me when I was trying to make the decision to tell her that I am almost 30 years old and not living under my parent’s roof anymore and if they are disappointed or upset with me, then that was just silly. So I told her…and she took it well, which made it so much easier on me not trying to conceal them while she was in the room. Now I knew for sure she was going to stay for the delivery (I’m glad she was able to. She told me later that was one of the highlights of her life!)

During the long hours of the night all three of us tried to sleep. Mom in her chair, Brent in his, and me in my bed. I couldn’t sleep of course because I couldn’t get comfortable because of the IV, fetal monitor, contraction monitor, and at this point I was hooked up to a catheter since I was longer able to get out of bed to use the restroom. The nurses and doctors kept coming in to check on me. I was also hooked up to an automatic blood pressure cuff that took my blood pressure every 10 minutes…so there I lay.

Friday morning, 35 hours into labor. The nurse said that the fetal heart rate was low and they needed to see more activity so they put me on oxygen. After 10 minutes of the oxygen, I had acid reflux so bad that I thought I was going to vomit. I took the mask off and attempted to keep it down. Thankfully I was successful.

After 39 hours of labor, they finally said I was 10 cm and 100% effaced. It was push time…

…and that’s when someone somehow let my epidural run out. I spent 45 minutes of labor at 10 cm and 100% effacement without any pain killer. It definitely hurt, but I think coping would have been easier if I had been mobile and could practice the relaxation exercises.

Let me be very honest…labor pain was nothing compared to the exam pain I had experienced. I would take 45 minutes of that kind of labor pain, every day for a month, than go through a single 15 second exam ever again!

So…once that was corrected..push time! After about 10 minutes of pushing, the acid reflux came back so the doctor ordered hospital strength antacid (my third dose since being in the hospital). During our break from pushing, I felt like I was going to vomit again, and this time I knew it wasn’t going to stay down. My mom brought the vomit dish over and I held it under my mouth and I started heaving. I filled that dish up as well as part of second. I didn’t look, but Brent told me it looked like bile (probably since I hadn’t eaten in 30 something hours). Once that episode passed, I was feeling better and ready to start pushing again.

The tech came in to check on me and discovered I was now running a fever of 101 degrees. This can happen when your water has been broken for as long as mine was without the delivery of the baby. Your body tries to fight possible infection. My mom’s job during delivery was continually putting a cold wet washcloth on my face.

41 hours later, Elizabeth was born! She too had a slight fever so aside from me getting to hold her for 30 seconds immediately after birth and then again for 2 minutes after they cleaned her up, they took her to the nursery to start antibiotics. She had an IV stuck to her head the whole time she was in the hospital.

They didn’t bring Elizabeth to me again until 6 hours later…

By the time I was able to leave the hospital 48 hours later, I had slept maybe a total of 5 hours, off and on, over the past 5 days. The first thing I did when I got home was take a nap...but even that only lasted an hour and a half…because when you are breastfeeding your baby, you have to be available every time they are hungry. It’s quite a sacrifice! I’ve already wanted to give up on that several times because of the initial pain and the interrupted sleep (as opposed to letting someone else feed your baby with a bottle while you sleep), but Brent keeps reminding me it’s the best thing for her and I just need to stick it out.

The first week and a half home has been difficult. I couldn’t move around very well because of stitches I had received and all the other blood and gore that other women who have had babies know about. At random times, I would bawl my eyes out and claim “I can’t do this!!! This is the hardest things I’ve ever done in my life!!”

Almost two weeks later and I am on antibiotics for a UTI…

It’s been day 19 since I’ve had more than 3 hours of uninterrupted sleep and I honestly don’t know how I haven’t gotten sick, but I guess God gives women the immunity they need to get past it.

I know that some women experience worse labor ordeals than I did, but mine was anything but normal. I look at pictures of women holding their babies right when they get back to the recovery room and they have make-up on and their hair is all fixed and they have a smile on their face….and I laugh…because that’s how I thought it was going to be for me. I thought I would want visitors while I was at the hospital and if not then, at least by the point I returned home. My dad was even denied visiting time one day while he was in Orlando because I wasn’t emotionally stable enough.

Brent has been a tremendous help and I don’t think I could have crossed this bridge with anyone else but him. My mom was here for two weeks as well cooking and preparing all of our meals and keeping an eye on Elizabeth when she went down for a nap so I could take a nap as well. I am forever indebted to both of them.

I still feel like labor and delivery was a breeze compared to the first two weeks home…and there are still many more sleepless nights and obstacles to come. I could definitely do the labor and delivery part again, even with the bumps I had to deal with...it's the recovery and first weeks home that have me discouraged. Maybe a year from now two weeks will seem like such a small amount of time that I may consider having a second one. Teenagers are my comfort zone. Babies, not so much. If I could birth out a 3 year old, we would be in business…but for now, in the words of my brother, “One and done!”