I was having contractions all day on Sunday, but they were not consistent. Up until about 1 am the next morning, I would have a few that were about 8-10 minutes apart and then the next one would be 15 minutes later. I fell asleep around then and woke up at 4 am to a strange "popping" sensation. With Asher, I never felt my water break, but this time, I did. I got up and walked into the bathroom and started calling Kris out of the depths of sleep. I didn't want to scare him, so I tried my gentle voice, but had to switch to my loud, panic voice because he was not even stirring.
When he finally came to, I told him my water broke and that we could officially go to the hospital without worrying about looking stupid and being sent home. This relieved me greatly. Within a few minutes, we were on our way. We live about 40 minutes from the hospital where my doctor delivers so thankfully it was early enough in the morning that we avoided any traffic. We even made a quick stop at CVS to buy batteries for our camera because I really wanted to have lots of pictures this time of the birth. Kris was nice enough to let me wait in the car while he ran in--a prince I tell you.
We made it to the hospital and my contractions were getting stronger and were about 5 minutes apart at this point. We got up to the L & D floor and got settled in a room. My nurse began hooking Jude and I up to the monitor. We both had normal vital signs and everything looked good to proceed with the plan for a VBAC. I started filling out forms (in between contractions) and the nurse left the room for a few minutes. She came back and said something to the effect of the doctor on call said I could wait for the next doctor to come on because he wasn't dealing with a VBAC this late in the shift. Those weren't the exact words, but the nurse was pretty clear that I was a problem he did not want to deal with. Issue #1.
Next, the nurse tries to start an I.V. in my hand. I told her that I have really bad veins and that last time, the nurse anesthetist had to come get it started. She assured me she could get it so she sticks me and then proceeds to chase the vein around in my hand for a good minute. It hurt! I was just looking away praying that she would hit the vein quickly. She finally gave up and my hand had this huge swollen lump on it. Issue #2.
She decides to go get another nurse to try. While she is gone, I start to feel really nauseated and light-headed. The nurses come back in my room and Kris tells them how I am feeling. One nurse lays me back and puts ice packs on me while the other one tries her luck at finding a vein in my arm. She digs around too and is also unsuccessful. At this point, I feel like I am 2 seconds away from passing out which causes Jude's heartrate to drop from the 130's to the 80's. This causes about 6 other nurses to rush in, along with the nurse anesthetist who sticks me and has the I.V. going in about 4 seconds. Issue #3.
The next thing I know they are rushing me out of my room and I am begging for someone to tell me what the heck is going on. I am feeling better by now but am being wheeled down the hall to the O.R. for, as someone kindly bothers to clue me in, an emergency c-section. I really wanted to cry at this point, but decided to postpone my tears since I needed to focus on what was going on.
They put me on the table and the anesthesiologist begins to put in my epidural. He gives me the first lidocaine shot and then I have my second expereince of someone digging around trying to find what they are looking for. Your spine, I must say, is way worse than your hand. This docotr gets very frustrated and ends up having to stick me 3 times trying to get the needle in the right space. Not. fun. at. all.
(It should be noted that, by now, both mine and Jude's vitals are back to normal. So the "emergency" is over. But once you are in an O.R., you are getting a c-section whether you need it or not.)
This is the point where my memory ends. This is a huge blessing because what happens next is not for the faint of heart. Apparently, they never got the epidural working right when I was sitting up so they laid me down and tried to put it in again. At this point, a nurse was sent to go get Kris to come in to be with me. As they walked back in, I was lying on the table moaning and writhing in pain. They had begun the surgery, however, that epidural still wasn't working. So basically, my poor husband had to see me after they had just cut me while I still had sensation.
They rush Kris out and made the decision to put my under general anethesia. So I am intubated and completely knocked out. The communication between the nurses and the doctor was not the best because they went and got Kris again, only to have the doctor yell at them to get him out. No one has told him anything at this point so he is totally distressed by now. They take him to a waiting room and tell him that someone will be in to get him soon. Of course the worse-case scenarios are running through his head because he has still not been told that we are O.K.
After Jude is delivered, they come and get Kris and he is able to hold Jude for a few minute before they take him to the nursery. Then Kris is taken to recovery where I am. I'm pretty disoriented as I try to make sense of what happened. I'm thankful that Jude was delivered safely but very sad that, once again, I don't get to see my baby born or hold him right after.
The nurse that originally tried to put in my I.V. comes to the recovery room and begins to apologize for everything. I'm really in no mood to have a conversation at that point so I'm not sure what I said. I later found out I was the talk of the whole floor. Thankfully, it's not very often epidurals don't work and they begin cutting so I was a hot topic among the staff. In the middle of all the drama, my friend who is a nurse there came on for her shift and found out that it was me that all this was happening to. She ended up having to take the next day off because she was so emotionally drained from what went on. If she was that affected, you can only imagine who upset Kris was. And let's not even talk about my poor mother.
So at one day shy of 41 weeks, I delivered Judah Kristopher. It was not what I planned and I believe many errors were made that could have been avoided, but the most important thing is that I have a healthy little boy. And instead of not being able to hold him for 5 days like with Asher, Jude was brought to my room a few hours later. There is much to be thankful for regardless of what happened to us.
2 boys. 2 out of the ordinary birth stories. I think I'm taking a few years off from the having babies business because no telling what #3 may bring :)
Posts
