Before I write this, I want to say that as I am only just now putting this down (it is now a year later), I may not remember all of the details as accurately as if I had written them down right away. However, I will do my best to remember things as they happened and record them accurately.
On the afternoon of Tuesday, November 10th, 2009, I had a check-up appointment with at my OB-GYN’s office. At 10 days overdue I knew my doctor wasn’t very happy about my insistence to ‘let things progress naturally’ as long as there was no danger to the baby. However, I was determined to wait out the full 2 weeks past due if necessary as long as my amniotic fluid levels were still good and my baby showed no signs of distress.
My husband had to be at class and wasn’t able to get out to come with me, so I’d driven myself and prepared to be just as stubborn in maintaining my right to wait for natural progression just as I had been for the past 10 days. I was scheduled for an ultrasound that day -- and had been told by the ultrasound technician a couple days before at my last appointment that she would be taking an approximate weight of the baby that day as well. I chit-chatted with the ultrasound technician during the process as usual, and she told me that the baby was measuring around 9 lbs. 5 oz. and that my fluid levels had decreased slightly. After she finished, I waited for Dr. T to come and discuss the results with me.
After she came in Dr. T expressed concern over the size of the baby--she somehow had gotten confused with the size and thought the baby was measuring 9 1/2 lbs. instead of 9 lbs. 5 oz., but at the time I thought maybe I’d mixed it up. She told me that I was a very small person to be delivering that large of a baby, and that we needed to go ahead and schedule an induction for that night--before the baby got any bigger.
However, she wasn’t the doctor on call that night (I wasn’t aware that she had to be ‘on call’ for her to be the one to deliver my baby . . .), but her partner Dr. V was and would oversee the induction. Dr. T went to talk to her to tell her the situation and then came back and told me that Dr. V was concerned about possible complications and would rather do a c-section than induce me. I wasn’t very happy about that (doctors are quick to rush to perform c-sections these days), and asked if we could still try an induction before jumping straight to the c-section. Dr. T went back and talked to Dr. V again. When she came back to me, she told me that because of the ‘risks’ Dr. V was still unwilling to allow an induction, but was willing to talk to me if I waited around until she was free for a minute. I agreed, though I knew that talking was likely futile since Dr. V was trying to prevent any opportunities to have a ‘black-mark’ on her medical record (she told me as much when we talked).
Dr. T showed me to a room and I waited there for a while until Dr. V was finished with all of her patients for the day. When she finally came in to see me, I realized there was no way I was going to be able to convince her to let me try an induction before jumping to a c-section. I knew deep down that would probably be the case, but I had been hoping maybe she would agree . . . after all, it was MY body. She explained to me that with my small size and the estimated weight of the baby that there was a big risk of “shoulder dystocia” (which is when the baby gets stuck in the birth canal--which probably wouldn’t be as much of a problem if doctors would allow women to labor in a more vertical position--e.g., standing, squatting, etc.--to allow gravity to work with their bodies . . . but I digress), she wouldn’t allow that to happen because if that did happen there would be a large risk of birth defects and that would reflect badly on her record. She told me that if I insisted on having an induction it would not be through their practice and that she would refer me to another doctor who was desperate for patients (and likely wouldn’t have a clean track record--hence the desperation). At the time I felt helpless; I didn’t know my rights at that time. Now I know that I have the right to refuse any treatment--and that it isn’t legal for my doctor to ‘drop’ me from her care without 30 days notice in a non-emergency situation--even if I decline to follow her advice.
Anyhow, after a futile discussion with Dr. V, I agreed to go ahead with the c-section, and then headed home to meet up with my husband, pick up our things and head to the hospital for the night as Dr. T and Dr. V had said it would be best for me to be monitored all night long . . . I still think that was completely ridiculous, but I was feeling pretty defeated by that time to argue any more. Please understand that I had hoped to have a completely natural birth with as little intervention/monitoring as possible (such as would be found with a midwife or a home birth), so the fact that I was having to suddenly give all of that up and succumb to exactly what I had been hoping to prevent was a huge disappointment to me.
I quickly called my husband before leaving the clinic and told him what was going on and what Dr. V had said. Then on the way home I called my mom because I knew she would understand my disappointment and would be able to provide a long-distance shoulder for me to cry ‘on’. After explaining the situation to her and shedding a few tears of disappointment, I gave myself a mental shake and told myself that despite the fact that nothing was going to go as I had hoped and prayed it would--the only thing that really mattered in the end was that my baby was born safely. That was what I clung to for the next 14 hours or so until the whole thing was over and I had my precious little baby in my arms. After I finished talking to my mom (it wasn’t for very long, just enough time to brief her on what was happening and shake myself mentally), I called my dad to briefly let him know what was going on, and he reiterated that the most important thing was a healthy, safe baby.
After I got home my husband and I finished doing a couple of things, readjusted my suitcase and his backpack, took care of the cats and Quigley, then we headed back to the hospital after a small detour to Chick-Fil-A first (my last solid meal for several days). We checked into the hospital and were shown to our room. A couple of the nurses came in and explained what they were going to do that night and what to expect for the morning. That night was my first experience with an I.V., boy was that fun! There’s nothing like hearing a nurse say “Shoot! Did I just blow out that vein?!” On her second attempt at sticking me. Ha ha! She then turned the job over to another nurse who was very gentle (it hardly hurt at all with her, whereas with the first nurse I was very uncomfortable) and got it on her first try--phew! After that we settled in for the night. That night was the most uncomfortable night I’d had throughout my entire pregnancy. I now know that it is practically impossible for me to sleep in a hospital gown (that was my main source of discomfort, I was missing my clothes, ha ha--not to mention how annoying it is having monitors taped to you!).
My husband slept pretty well/easily, but I hardly slept at all, so it was almost a relief when the nurses came in around 5:00 or 5:30 the next morning to get me prepped and make sure I had gotten enough fluids via the I.V. I was scheduled as the first c-section (barring any emergencies that may have arisen of course) for that morning, so around 7:15ish the nurses had me walk to the operating room where the anesthesiologist (who was very kind) gave me the epidural and the nurses (who were also very kind and upbeat!) finished prepping me for surgery. As soon as I couldn’t feel anything they brought my husband in and about ten minutes later, at 7:47, we had our baby! They weren’t kidding when they said I’d feel a lot of pressure while they pulled the baby out! That was a very odd sensation. It wasn’t terrible, but something I’d prefer to not have to feel again.
I was so eager to know what the sex was as we had waited to find out (which was awesome!) . . . we’d had a feeling the baby would be a boy, and obviously we weren’t disappointed (though if Peanut Butter Cup had been a girl we still wouldn’t have been disappointed, ha ha). Everything seemed so surreal at that point because I couldn’t feel anything and I couldn’t see anything either because of the curtain. They announced that he was a boy and then I heard him cry for the first time--which made me cry as well. My husband went over to where they were cleaning Peanut Butter Cup up and took a few pictures of him. The first time I saw my son was on the viewfinder of a camera. How sad is that?!
ANYHOW, after a few minutes when the nurses, my husband, and our new baby were on their way out of the operating room and to the nursery I finally got to meet my baby--but only for about 30 seconds or so, and then they were gone.
I was very grateful for the kindness of the anesthesiologist, who had been sitting behind my head through the whole thing. He had talked to me and kept me distracted before the surgery and then afterwards he distracted me again and was very quick to react when the medication hit me all of a sudden and made me very nauseous. I was able to force myself to breathe slowly and just kept praying that I wouldn’t get sick because I couldn’t move because of the epidural and from being strapped down to the table (literally, my wrists were strapped down--I felt like I was being sacrificed, ha ha). The nausea passed after a couple of minutes and then probably within 20-30 minutes Dr. V was done stitching me up, said goodbye and the nurses finished cleaning me up before wheeling me to a recovery room.
I think I probably waited for close to an hour before I was allowed to see Peanut Butter Cup and my husband again. I’d finally gotten tired of waiting for them to appear and asked one of the nurses when I could see them. She told me that if I was up to it I could see them then, so I probably waited for about 15 minutes when my husband finally came in and just behind him was the new little person I’d been dying to meet.
Getting to hold him for the first time was so overwhelming! I couldn’t believe how perfect and absolutely beautiful he was! It was strange to think that he’d been living and growing inside of me for 9 1/2 months!
The next day after I was able to stand up for the first time and then shower, we had a couple sets of visitors. I’ll admit that I wasn’t incredibly thrilled about that though because I was exhausted and didn’t want to expose our newborn baby to any possible outside germs (especially with it being flu season) for at least a couple of weeks in order to allow his immune system to have a chance to strengthen. I know everyone meant well and just wanted to share in the joy of welcoming Peanut Butter Cup, but honestly I was relieved when everyone had left and it was just my husband and myself again, and we had our baby back to ourselves and could rest again.
We ended up spending five nights nights in the hospital (four after Peanut Butter Cup had been born) because on the morning that we were supposed to be discharged (Saturday) Peanut Butter Cup had dropped a little bit more than a pound of his birth weight (my milk was slow in coming in). The doctors had us supplement him with formula (which I wasn’t happy about because that didn’t make sense as to how that was supposed to be helpful to my milk supply since that is based off of the law of supply and demand and a full newborn baby isn’t really interested in staying awake and nursing!), thankfully we only had to do that for about 36 hours and then my milk had come in sufficiently that we were able to quit giving the formula to him.
A couple of times we had to send Peanut Butter Cup to the nursery for a few hours at night--though I absolutely HATED doing that. My husband needed sleep so that he’d be able to function the next day, which was the only reason I agreed to sending my baby away. The frustrating thing was that I specifically told the nurses to bring him back to me when he cried so that I could feed him, and that he wasn’t to have a pacifier. Well, I’m about 95% sure that they gave Peanut Butter Cup glucose water so they wouldn't have to bring him back to me, because they didn’t bring him back to me for at least 5 hours when he’d been crying at least every hour and a half when he was with me, so I know he hadn’t lasted that long AWAY from me--even after I called and asked them to bring him back and they said they’d come “soon” it took them at least another hour after that before they brought him back to me. I know for sure that they gave him a pacifier because the one that the hospital gives you in the ‘new baby kit’ was open and had been used after he came back from the nursery (another time they brought him back with him sucking on it). That just proved to me exactly what I’d been worried about--that the nursery staff wouldn’t respect my wishes if I allowed them to take him there. Urgh!!!! So frustrating!
We were discharged Sunday morning and I was SO glad to be home--back in a familiar environment and where I didn’t have to worry about people not respecting my wishes. My amazing husband had been going back and forth twice a day to take care of the animals, do laundry, clean the house and rearrange our bedroom along with going to work/classes during the day one of the days we were in the hospital. He didn’t get much sleep at all those first few days! I was (and still am!) so grateful for all that he did those first few days (and beyond)!
Do you want to know what the good thing about having a c-section was? My ‘labor’ only lasted for about 10 minutes and then POOF! I had a baby! :-) Ha ha!!
All joking aside though, I really hope and pray that I won’t have to have a c-section again next time as I want to be able to be with my baby for his/her first hours instead of having him/her taken away from me while I get stitched back together. I also really don’t want to be drugged out the wazoo like you are with a c-section, because I want to be clear-headed and wide awake while I bond with my baby.
Like I said earlier, all that really matters is that Peanut Butter Cup was delivered safely, but hopefully the next time around (Lord Willing that there is a next time!) things can be different.
Thanks for reading! Sorry that I’ve written you a book about Peanut Butter Cup’s birth, I'm sure I've forgotten some things, but didn't want to make this longer than it already is!
