So, on Sunday, the 8th, I had been having a pretty average day: contractions on and off, tired, but mainly good. About 630PM, I went into the bathroom and while I was in there, I felt a small rush of something that didn't seem to be urine. I wasn't sure so I laid down on the floor for a minute on a towel and once I got back up, I had it happen again, though still a smaller amount. I opened the door and yelled to Chad, who was in the living room, that I think my water just broke. You should have seen his face when he came running into the bedroom! I sat back on the toilet after grabbing my phone and called Labor & Delivery, told them I thought my water had ruptured and was on my way in. I was 39 weeks & 3 days with an induction scheduled for the coming Thursday. Apparently he wanted to come sooner.
I was surprisingly calm and told Chad to slow down and not to panic. I still wasn't 100% sure it was my water, but I put a pad on to catch the little gushes I was feeling, packed some extra clothes for Chad and myself, got our laptops together, packed our phone chargers, things like that. Chad was very anxious about taking the time to pack these things, so we hurried and got into the car, headed to the hospital. On the way, the contractions I had been having for a few weeks worsened a bit, and once we got there and I got out to get my bag, I felt a very large rush of fluid and told Chad, "Ok, it was definitely my water breaking."
We got registered fairly quickly, thanks to a woman who became very nervous upon realizing that she had a very pregnant woman who was in labor sitting in her office, and taken up to the Maternity ward, where a nurse came in, got me changed into a hospital gown, hooked up to monitors, and told me they had a swab they needed to take to make sure it was my water. She had a large amount of fluid come back with her hand during the test and said it was definitely my water breaking but they needed to wait for the official results to hook me up to an IV and get me admitted. We had arrived about 730PM, an hour after my water broke.
About 8PM, they got the results and admitted me, hooked me to an IV, and took some blood for tests. I was at about 3CM. Chad and I watched some TV (Discovery Channel, whoo hoo!) and he got his laptop out to play a bit on it. We knew we'd be there a little while. I found out an OB I really liked from my practice, Neilson, was on call, and she came in to see me. About midnight, I was about 4.5CM dilated and the contractions were getting worse, but because I wasn't progressing very fast, they decided to start pitocin so they finally started it about 130AM.
(Note: my times get a bit fuzzy around here because I wasn't paying much attention to the clock.)
I spent the rest of the night in somewhat of a daze, only focusing on breathing through the contractions. Holding onto the side of the bed helped as did, oddly enough, singing little mantras to myself to even out my breathing. Chad slept for a while, and I tried to stay as quiet as I could, as I knew he would need the sleep! By 6 or so the next morning, I wasn't much further along, about a 5, but I couldn't have any IV meds because baby wasn't as reactive as they wanted, so I opted to go ahead and get my epidural. The anesthesiologist was very good and it was nothing compared to the spinal tap I had when I first got sick. I barely felt anything and the epi helped some. The nurse who sat in front of me during the procedure (Chad had to leave since it was a sterile procedure) helped me to keep still, since sitting up with my legs flat in front of me during contractions was really hard to do.
As the day went on, they had to renew my epidural at one point because I kept telling them that the pains had changed, felt different. It felt more in my bones than my muscles and had me in tears, despite the epidural. By 2PM or so, I was beginning to have more and more trouble keeping quiet during the contractions that felt incredibly intense and much closer together, despite what the nurses were trying to tell me - that they weren't showing up as being that bad on their scale. I just knew from the pains something wasn't right.
Around 4PM, we had nearly reached the 24 hour mark they wanted me to deliver in because of my water breaking and worrying about infection. Dr. Neilson checked me after Chad went into the hall and insisted - I was hesitant to but was literally screaming through the pains by now - and I was at a 7 - where I'd been for a few hours. She said the reason my pains had changed was because the baby was stuck. His head and shoulders weren't going to fit through my pelvis and his head was starting to mold from the pressure against my pelvic bones. Our only option at this point was a c-section.
Around 4PM, we had nearly reached the 24 hour mark they wanted me to deliver in because of my water breaking and worrying about infection. Dr. Neilson checked me after Chad went into the hall and insisted - I was hesitant to but was literally screaming through the pains by now - and I was at a 7 - where I'd been for a few hours. She said the reason my pains had changed was because the baby was stuck. His head and shoulders weren't going to fit through my pelvis and his head was starting to mold from the pressure against my pelvic bones. Our only option at this point was a c-section.
It wasn't what I wanted, but I was okay with it. We'd do what we needed to for the baby and he needed us to make that decision, to be brave to get him safely into the world. I felt horrible that I couldn't even manage to bring my baby into the world how he was meant to, that I had failed him. I made a phone call to my parents' house with a gut feeling someone would be there, and my dad was. I told him what was going on then called my mother to tell her, and since I already had the epidural, they came in to strengthen it. I had a feeling something wasn't quite right but they made it stronger twice and told me the heaviness in my legs, etc were good signs and all normal.
At 515PM, Chad got into his "bunny suit" and they wheeled me into the operating room. They put the divider up after moving me onto the table and the anesthesiologist explained what all was going on to me while they tied down my arms. I heard them call Chad in, and immediately started feeling them cutting into my stomach. My epidural had failed on my left side. I told the anesthesiologist, who seemed to assume I meant I felt the pressure. Within a few moments, I was in tears, feeling them pull and reach into my stomach. Not exaggerating whatsoever. He explains to me that they are giving me something to help me but it will mean that I probably won't remember the baby being born. I didn't have a choice. I had to have them do something. They gave me the medicine.
Describing the next moments are very difficult because it was mostly sensations. I couldn't seem to see anything although I could hear everything in an odd, tunnel like fashion. I remember seeing Chad's face at one point, and I heard someone saying "Here's your baby; look at your baby" and I tried to but I couldn't see him. He was officially born at 5:46PM. After that, the pain (yes I could still feel) got worse and I felt myself start screaming in a way I never had before, asking them to stop because it hurt so badly.
I assume they turned the medicine down at this point (which I found out later was ketamine) because I could see again although still felt funny. I started apologizing for screaming, for the yelling, and they kept telling me they didn't know waht I was talking about, that I did a great job. Later, Chad told me I just stared at the ceiling and never made a noise after they gave me the ketamine. My body had a bad reaction to it so it essentially just paralyzed me and made me hallucinate, didn't knock me under like it should have. The screaming and begging I honestly thought I was doing was all in my head.
Chad was gone during this part, as I had asked him to go with the baby to the nursery and take pictures, keep an eye on him. I spent about an hour in recovery, where Chad came to visit me while they bathed the baby, and he told me how he looked, that they had been testing his blood sugar which was perfect, etc. He was so proud of his little boy. I got into a room and spent a half hour or so waking the rest of the way up before calling for the baby. Chad was so excited and I was, too, although I still hate the fact that I couldn't meet him until then, that I had to make the choice to take the ketamine because my body failed in the OR and to bring him into the world as he should have been able to.
They brought him in and we got some pictures, though I look very spacey and high in them, of me holding him for the first time and of Chad with him as well. I won't go through the rest of the hospital stay, other than to say that it's probably best we had said not to have anymore children and plan for me to have an IUD placed at my six week appointment. With him getting stuck like he did, I'd likely have to have another c-section if I had anymore kids, and this one was the worst medical experience I've ever had. And you guys all know I've had alot of bad ones. I've been told to watch out for PTSD from it, as I have alot of difficulty talking about what happened and even thinking about it causes the sensations and experience to come back.
We had already decided on the name Dante, or Chad had when I sent him some name choices I liked that included it when he was deployed. He's always told me that out of the boy and girl choices, when he saw "Dante" he knew we were having a boy, though we had been thinking otherwise before he left. We had some difficulty finding and agreeing on a middle name, but the next day before registration came in to do his certificate, we decided on Jaydon. So he became Dante Jaydon K. :)
I may add more onto this as time goes on, but at the moment, this is the general overhaul of what all happened.
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