Well here we are three weeks after Tristan was born and I am finally getting my birth story posted! You can't blame me. Life with a new baby is busy! I'm just proud of myself for actually getting it done.
Warning, it is LOOOOONG!
So...
It all started with a leg cramp.
Correction: It all started with the worst leg cramp I have
experienced in my whole life. It woke me up out of a dead sleep - the
first good sleep I had managed to get in the better part of two weeks
– around 2:30 Tuesday morning. The cramp was excruciating, but I
think it panicked me more than anything because it would not go away
no matter what I tried. I yelled and sobbed, and poor Erik woke up
thinking I was in labour. It was the right idea, but my body had the
wrong muscle!
I don't know if it was just because he
was tired and not quite lucid or if I was mumbling like he says, but
it took forever to finally make Erik understand what was going on.
There was definitely a moment when I thought, “He better catch on
quicker when I am actually in labour because if this is a preview of
how things are going to go down, I just might strangle him.”
Finally, the cramp faded, and less than
half an hour later I was experiencing a whole different kind of
cramping (and much less painful, I might add). I decided to start
timing the contractions, which were about 15-20 minutes apart. I
thought, “Great! Maybe that leg cramp actually started something.”
Indeed, it looked like it had. Over the course of the morning, they
gradually got closer and closer together and mildly stronger,
although I could still barely feel them. I was just beginning to
wonder when I should call the hospital when I got a phone call from
my OB's receptionist – shortly after 10:00 AM.
She said that Dr. Yacoub wanted to know
if I would come in to be induced a day early. Of course, my answer
was “Yes!” Inducement scared me a little and it was something I
had hoped to avoid, but by that point I was overdue and just wanted
the baby out of me.
The feeling of joy and excitement and
anticipation was incredible after that call. I don't think I have
ever seen Erik so happy and excited and almost giddy. We were both
high off of it. Our grins were from ear to ear. We couldn't believe
it was actually happening and I really think that it was that moment
when we both realized that this was really happening. We were going
to have a baby! It really was one of the best feelings in the world.
After the call, things got a little
crazy. We realized then that I didn't even have my hospital bag fully
packed. 40 weeks, 4 days and my hospital bag was lying half-packed on
the living room floor. We spent the next half hour or so running
around, gathering things up, trying to make sure nothing was left
behind. When we were finally ready to walk out the door, I couldn't
find my wallet with my health card! No matter where we looked I
couldn't find it anywhere and I needed that health card. We must have
searched for a good fifteen minutes before we found it... and then
realized that in our search we had misplaced Erik's phone. That took
another good fifteen! An hour or so later, we finally made it out the
door.
We arrived at the hospital around
eleven and Mum and my brother arrived a few minutes later. We waited
a couple of hours before I even got in to a room to be monitored, but
it didn't matter because we were still high from the excitement.
After being monitored it was another several hours before we even saw
Dr. Yacoub. We found out that I was only about 2 cm dilated, even
after all of the “practice” contractions I had been having during
the weeks before and the regular contractions I had been having all
that morning. But taking the fact that I was having regular
contractions and was dilated a bit already, Dr Yacoub was pretty
confident that I would go in to labour on my own within the next 12
hours. He gave me two options. I could stay and be induced, or I
could go home and wait for labour to come naturally.
I honestly panicked. I hate making
decisions, especially ones that have to be made pretty much on the
spot. I remember glancing at Erik, eyes wide, silently begging him to
answer for me. But I knew he couldn't answer for me. I made a snap
decision. I said I would wait for labour to come naturally. There
were two things that really swayed my decision. Number one, I really
wanted to have the experience of naturally progressing labour. I
wanted to allow my body to do it's own thing and take over. Also, I
wasn't quite aware of how inducement would affect the progression of
my labour and also the baby. All I really knew about inducement was
about pitocin and how it brought labour on hard and fast and could
possibly put stress on the baby. I didn't know how Cervadil or
breaking my water would be different.
Even though I had been so excited for
it to finally be happening, to finally know that I was going to get
to meet my baby very soon, I felt that waiting for labour to come on
it's own, especially with everyone (even myself) confident it would
be very soon, was the best decision. Dr Yacoub even told me himself
he thought I was making the right decision. He stretched my cervix to
hopefully help things progress and then we went home.
I knew Erik was disappointed and I felt
absolutely horrible for it the rest of the day. I kept second
guessing myself because I could see the complete change in him from
so happy to sullen and disappointed. However, I knew deep down that I
had made a good decision.
How was I to know that by ten that
night the contractions would fizzle out? Everything had seemed so
promising. After we left the hospital, we went out for dinner and
walked around the mall for a while. The contractions started coming
closer together and more intense, just like they were supposed to.
But it all turned out to be a false alarm.
As told, we went back to the hospital
Wednesday morning for my original induction date... and were turned
away after several hours of waiting. I would have gone in, would have
gotten the last bed they had available if I hadn't had to go pee. We
had been waiting two and a half hours and I desperately had to go to
the bathroom. Unfortunately, they have no public washroom available
on the fourth floor. If I had to pee I would have to go down to the
main floor lobby. I was desperate enough for it. My mum assured me
she would let the nurses know what was happening and hold our spot
for us. No sooner had I left, the nurse called my name. My mum
explained what was going on, but the nurse basically said “You
snooze, you lose,” and took the woman who had been waiting just 20
minutes. Erik was livid and seeing red, but there was nothing we
could do.
We waited for another half hour or so
before we were told it wouldn't be happening that day. Labour and
Delivery was swamped and the woman they had taken before us had taken
the last bed. Dr Yacoub delivered the news to us himself and was so
nice and apologetic about it that I really couldn't be upset. To be
completely honest, I was almost relieved when he told us it wouldn't
be happening that day. With my anxiety, the thought of going through
labour and delivery in a crowded ward was horrifying. And we had been
waiting so long and I was feeling terrible that day (from the
sinusitis and respiratory infection I was suffering from). All I
wanted to do was go home.
Thursday. We expected the third
time to be the charm. No luck. Labour and delivery was run ragged
with women in labour (damn super moon). This time we were pulled
aside into the doctor's lounge. I think the nurse was afraid we would
make a scene. She knew we had been there three days in a row now. I
truly thought Erik would make a scene, too. Before he could let his
frustration get the better of him, I quickly told her that we
completely understood and no worries. And truly I did understand.
There was nothing they or I or anyone could do about the fact that so
many women were going in to labour and there were a couple of
emergency c-sections to boot. It wasn't their fault and although I
was incredibly frustrated with the situation and disappointed, I
couldn't get mad at them for it. The nurse told us that they expected
a few discharges later that day and that tomorrow should be more
promising, but to call first, just in case.
So, Friday morning at six we called
obstetrics to see if there were beds available. There were three. As
long as we got there before anyone else and as long as there were no
emergencies, I would be induced! And by 10:30 on Friday, May 11, I
was.
Yeah, I got breakfast!
I was given Cervadil as I was still not quite dilated enough for
my water to be broken. After an hour of being monitored, 45 minutes
of walking, and another twenty of monitoring, I was sent home to wait
for labour to pick up.
At around 3 o'clock that afternoon I
started to notice some mild contractions and started timing them. By
mild I mean that I couldn't even really feel them. They only way I
knew I was having them was because I could feel my belly go hard. If
I didn't have a hand on my belly to feel them, I probably wouldn't
even notice I was having them. They got gradually stronger, but
remained low on the scale. I was a tad concerned, though, that they
were very close together. From the moment they started they were 2-4
minutes apart. I knew that you were supposed to go to the hospital if
they were less than five minutes apart and lasting 30-60 seconds for
an hour. Mine had been averaging at 3 minutes apart, lasting about 45
seconds for several hours. At around seven Erik and I went to run
some errands and go for a drive with my mum and brother. The nurse
was supposed to call between 7 and 9 to check on my progress, so I
told them that if we didn't receive a call by the time we got home,
then we would call and ask if I should go in. We got home without a
call, so Erik called obstetrics. He was told that I should wait until
they were unbearable before I came in.
Right after the call, I went to the
bathroom and when I stood up after felt a gush of water. It hadn't
even been five minutes since Erik had gotten off the phone with
obstetrics and he was calling back saying “Yeah, I just called like
five minutes ago. My wife's water just broke, so it looks like we are
coming in.”
In the next few minutes, Erik and Eric
panicked, while Mum and I took our time and remained completely calm.
I was actually shocked at how calm and in good spirits I was. Poor
Erik was getting so frustrated with me. There he was in that typical
father-to-be, rush to the hospital state of mind and I was taking the
time to change my underwear and pants and to brush my hair, feeling
no rush at all. My water actually gushed again while I was in the
room changing. And I don't mean a trickle. It was a huge gush and it
just kept coming. I always expected that when my water broke it would
either be a gradual trickle or just one big gush. Mine just kept
gushing though. Even on the way to the hospital and a couple of hours
in to my labour, I was getting random gushes of water that soaked the
floor or the bedding or my clothes. My belly shrank considerably
before the baby was even born, just from all the water that came out!
I always said that when I went in to
labour, I wanted it to be obvious. I wanted the mucous plug to come
out in a big, messy glob and my water to break in one big gush like
Niagara Falls. I definitely got my wish on the second!
Anyway, we arrived at the hospital just
after eight. In the short time it had taken to drive from Petawawa to
Pembroke, the intensity of my contractions had gotten much stronger!
They weren't unbearable, but I definitely felt the pain and had to
take a few deep breaths to get through them. By the time I was
settled in the room and checked they were getting even stronger. I
was still in pretty good spirits, though. In between contractions I
would be adjusting my camera settings, trying to find the optimum
settings for the low lighting in my room. When a contraction came I
would pass off my camera, breathe through it, then take the camera
right back and keep working.
Me fixing my camera between contractions.
I was disappointed to learn that I was
only 3 cm when I was checked first. At that point things were getting
much more intense and I couldn't imagine how much worse the pain was
going to get if I still had 7 cm to go. I think it kind of scared and
panicked me for a moment. At this time, my nurse asked me “On a
scale from one to ten how painful are the contractions?” My least
favourite phrase of all time is “On a scale of one to ten...”! I
am so bad at trying to guess where my pain or discomfort level is.
But, I was trying to be cooperative, so I told her a seven but that
it was probably much lower than that in reality and I would be
changing it to a four in a couple of hours when I was experiencing
even stronger contractions!
Then the nurse showed me the tub. Oh,
the tub! A hot bath has always been my best friend when I am not
feeling well or experiencing particularly rough PMS, so when I was
told that I could use the tub while in labour I was so relieved and
happy! And the water worked wonders for a while. But even the water
couldn't stop the contractions from getting more intense, until I was
sick with them. Literally sick, I mean. I threw up twice in the
bathroom and then again after I had gotten out of the tub.
Contraction as I was getting out of the tub.
That is when things started to get bad.
I tried really hard to breathe through it, to consciously relax my
body like I had learned years ago in yoga. It helped, but barely. I
finally gave up on that and resorted to the good old vice grip on
Erik's arm. And when that wasn't making me feel any better either, I
decided I wanted an epidural. My contractions had never been more
than 4 minutes apart, and by this time were two minutes apart and
lasting a minute or longer each. That means, I only had about 30 - 45
seconds in between each contraction to rest and recover before the
next one came like a wave. It was exhausting.
Contraction!
So, when Dr Yacoub came in to check me
again (and I was only just barely at 4 cm), I requested the epidural.
Or Erik requested it for me... I can't quite remember. I do remember
that I was afraid that he wouldn't give it to me because I wasn't far
enough along or something. He asked me at least twice if I was sure I
wanted it. I think that was because I had told him I had wanted to
try to do it naturally. But I was under no illusions. I needed the
epidural.
And I remember too, too well how long
it took for me to get the epidural! The blood work seemed to take
forever to come back, and when it finally did it took forever for the
anaesthesiologist to get there! It was early morning before they
finally got things going and then she had to explain the epidural to
me, what she was doing, and what the risks were. I seriously wanted
to scream and tell her to just stick the damn needle in my back
already!!! But I knew that she had to explain and make sure I
understood before she could continue, so I held it in and tried to
listen through the contractions.
The epidural took a while to set in
with me. Longer than they or I had expected and when it did, it only
numbed one side. So they had to put a pillow under one side to try to
get the other side to go numb as well. Finally, both sides were
numbed and it was a dream! Until it started to wear off not even an
hour later... The contractions started to once again get more and
more intense and closer and closer together (they had spaced out a
bit due to the epidural). The worst of it was that the
anaesthesiologist hadn't left orders for me to get another dose if it
wore off, so the nurses couldn't do anything until they got
permission from her.
Again, it seemed like forever and was
probably about another 45 minutes or longer before I was approved for
another dose. After the second dose was given, I was checked again
and I was at 10 cm. Unfortunately, because I couldn't feel the
pressure to push, we had to wait a while longer to push. After a
while, the nurse decided that even though I wasn't feeling the
pressure, we could try a few practice pushes to make sure I knew what
to do when it was time to actively push. Well, I did such a good job
pushing that we kept at it. I even had them impressed because I was
flexible enough to use the hand grips for pushing to prop my feet
against instead of the foot ones.
Pushing was absolutely the best part of
the night (before baby was born, of course). I was relaxed and in a
good mood. Even though my epidural was gradually wearing away with
each push, I found the contractions much easier to handle. I loved
the pushing part. I was even able to have a good conversation with
the nurse in between pushes. It turns out I know her two kids. She
was telling me about her twins, and what tipped me off was when she
mentioned that her son was in to tae kwon do and had taught with the
club on base. Well, I immediately made the connection to a guy I had
gone to school with and his twin sister. After that we really hit it
off and had a good conversation going.
Erik got right in to it, too. He was
fascinated by watching my belly gradually move lower with each push.
I remember him saying “Hey, I can see your ribs now.” And when
the head started to move down and he was completely enthralled. He
said “It's like watching the Discovery Channel in HD.” ...
Yeaaah... At one point, he wasn't even up by my head supporting me.
He was sitting on a chair at the end of the bed, just watching the
head crown. I did get pissed off at him a couple of times because he
wasn't counting for me. I really found the counting helped. The nurse
had started counting for me and then Erik was supposed to take over.
Well, he kind of just stopped and then I kept having to remind him to
count for me.
Finally, it was time to call Dr.
Yacoub. He was at the hospital within about 15 minutes and about
another 15 minutes later at 4:22 AM on May 12, 2012 – a total of an hour and ten minutes of
active pushing, Tristan was born. There was a moment of concern when
I realized that he had the umbilical cord wrapped around his neck and
there was some trouble getting it off, but it was only a moment. He
didn't really take that first loud cry. Rather he fussed. The nurse
kept telling me to rub his back and keep him crying to get lots of
oxygen in him. Her exact words were “We need to pinken him up.”
First time holding him as he was passed to me.
As soon as he was born, my first words
were “You're all cheesy!” because he had vernix – the greyish,
cheese-like substance that cover babies while in the womb – all
over his back and then I told Erik to get the camera. Poor Erik,
there I was telling him to take pictures and the doctor was trying to
ask him if he wanted to cut the cord (which he did).
When all was said and done, I only
needed one stitch and had no external tearing. Pretty good for having
delivered a kid with a big head!
Tristan stayed with me for a good long time before the nurse took him to be assessed and cleaned up, which I was really pleased about. It had been something I had wanted but was too afraid to ask for. I was so glad when she told me he got to stay with me for as long as I liked. I will admit, I didn't keep him too, too long, though, because I was so eager to find out how much he weighed! Haha!
And just in case anyone is wondering, my little man scored a 9 on his Apgar. The only reason he didn't get a ten is because he didn't cry right away.
So, from the time my water broke to the time Tristan was born, it was only about eight hours of labour. For a first delivery, I think that is pretty darn good! Especially considering the horror stories you hear about 36 hour long labours... Yikes. I was lucky!
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