Evidently there is some sort of contest having to do with sharing your birth story.
Here's the rules:
Post your birth/adoption stories on YOUR blog, and post a link to Michelle's blog. If you do not have your own blog, but would still like to participate, you may post your birth story in the comments section of Michelle's blog
here. Don't forget to post a link in the comments on Michelle's blog, or else she won't know you posted a story...Michelle will pick ONE story each day to be "showcased" the next day on her blog. At the end of the contest (which runs until 2/26). On 2/27, we will get to vote on the showcased stories, and on 2/28, Michelle will announce the winner on her Gabbin' Mama blog.
Just because I am a follower and pretty much do what I am told to do without a lot of fussing, I am posting my birth story.
Steven and I had bathed this pregnancy in prayer. Each morning I would pray that I would have a boy, that he would have blond hair and blue eyes, that he would be healthy and that I would have a natural delivery. At the time, we had insurance, but it did not cover pregnancy. I had made arrangements with my OBGYN to pay cash for his services at a discounted rate and had paid for the special delivery at McLaren. For a mere $1100.00 you got an overnite stay in a luxurious birthing suite, meals, meds care for yourself and the baby. What a deal!
I was fast approaching my due date. I had about 8 days to go. Steven was playing basketball one Monday night with some of the youth from church. I am not sure what funky move it was that he made, but he heard a pop and was immediately on the floor not really able to walk or stand straight. For those of you who know my husband, he has not been blessed with a good back. This particular night he threw his back out. I remember my father-in-law and another friend coming into the house one on each side of Steven helping him walk through the door. I was mortified. Here I am...big as a house, feeling like I was ready to pop, and here is my husband who can't stand up straight or take off his shoes, dress himself...you get the picture. I spent that night on the livingroom floor with him. You have to remember I was in my mid-20's. Pregnancy and flexiblity were much easier then. I could sleep anywhere! The next day I remember driving him to the doctor, helping him to get dressed...the whole 9 yards. By Wednesday, he had started to feel a little better...especially with the help of pain meds. He could walk better and could even dress himself.
Wednesday evening we were laying on the floor talking. My chocolate lab Emmi was at my side all night long. She would not leave my side. If I got up to get a drink...she got up to get a drink. If I went to the bathroom, she was right there beside me. I thought it very odd, as she was usually my husband's dog. She liked me, but LOVED Steven. She would not leave me alone that night. I didn't think too much about it...
...Until about 11:30 that night. I woke up having to go to the bathroom very bad, you know, the first trip of many through the night spaced at 2-2 1/2 hour intervals. I sat down to pee and got back up when I was finished only to find that I started going again. I was pretty groggy at the time and really didn't know what was going on. I just thought to myself, "Great, another joy of pregnancy they don't tell you about...you lose all bladder control at the end." So I sat back down. The "peeing" stopped. I stood back up again...the "peeing" started again. I probably stood up and sat down about 6 times before it finally dawned on me that my water had broke. After an eternity in the bathroom, I finally waddled across the hall to find some pads to help with my little leakage problem. Being the big procrastinator I am (I still had a week left) I set about trying to pack a bag for myself and for the baby.
I waddled down the hall to our bedroom in the perfect picture of calmness and pulled the blankets over Steven's head so as not to wake him up when I turned on the light (what was I thinking?). For whatever reason he woke up anyway and asked me what on earth I was doing. I told him that I thought that my water had broke and I was just getting some stuff ready to go to the hospital. I can't say that he jumped out of bed, as he was still nursing a bad back, but he sprang to life and started playing the part of the nervous dad.
At some point, I called up to the hospital so that they could get my room ready. I can remember her asking me what symptoms I was having. At the time I didn't really have any contractions. I had just told her I thought my water had broke because when I sat down to pee, I never stopped. She told me I could take my time, shower and meander up to the hospital at my leisure, my room would be ready and waiting.
In our birthing classes, we learned about all these preparations you should make when you go to deliver...to pack activities, cards, magazines, cd's, candy, chapstick, you know...settle in for the long hall. I began to panic. I had bought a Kenny G cd specifically for mood music during labor, but didn't have a cd player. We ended up stopping at Meijer on the way to the hospital so Steve could pick up a cd player while I sat in the car on my towel.
At about 1:30 am we made it to the hospital. The nurses did their checking and confirmed that I had not peed myself. The strapped me to the monitors and checked the downstairs business only to find that I had not effaced or dilated one iota. They told me to relax and get some sleep...sure!
At 1:30 in the morning there was a woman in the next room delivering with a midwife who was encouraging her to yell, scream, grunt or whatever means of self expression she could muster and deliver her baby. Even Kenny G in all his saxaphone smoothness could not cover the screams of this lady. After about an hour (but felt like 24), her screams died down and the tiny wail of a baby could be heard. At that point, we finally relaxed enough to start trying to sleep. Of course you know how short lived sleep is when you are in a hospital. There is always someone prodding and poking at you!
After a resident or 2, a handful of nurses, the entire Detroit Lions football team and any other interested on-looker had a peek, they decided to try a few different things to get the ball rolling, as I was not effaced or having contractions.
By morning Steve's family had received their phone calls and were waiting with us in the room. My contractions were very mild at this point. My doctor had visited and noticed that the baby was experiencing decelerations in his hear rate with my contractions and had ordered an internal scalp monitor. It was at this point that I pretty much had to stay in bed. By mid afternoon, they decided to give me pitocin to get the contractions rolling.
It was at this point we were experiencing a changing of the guard. In-laws were coming and going and my mom had shown up. Steven actually had walked some family down to the parking lot and was not in the room. It was just me and my mom. For whatever reason the nurse had my iv going very fast. I ended up having a contraction that lasted for about 7 minutes. It was in my back and would not let up. Of course, being hooked up to the monitor, you can hear everything. The baby's heartrate dropped from a steady 140 beats per minute down to about 40 beats per minute. I immediately went into panic hysterical mode. My mom was desperately trying to calm me down. A swarm of nurses came flying into my room and decended upon me like a flock of hungry vultures. It was at this time that Steven was rounding the corner ready to head back to the room
They had me on my side, hands and knees and in a variety of positions to bring up the baby's heart rate. One nurse injected me with something that stopped the contractions. I was still very hysterical and inconsolable at this point. The nurse called the doctor and told him what was going on and he ended up instructing her to give me her phone. Wouldn't you know that he dropped everything that he was doing, hopped in his car and flew to the hospital. He talked to me the entire way on his cell phone. I was prepped for surgery and pretty much ready to roll by the time he got there.
Back in the OR, I was getting ready to get my spinal block for the c-section. I had this crazy anesthesiologist (sp?) named Bob. Try as he might, he was having a heck of a time getting the right spot and had jokingly said that by the time it was all said and done he would have his name tatooed in my back. I can still feel the sensation of that needle being poked in my back!
Partway through the process Bob had noticed that I still had my bra on. If you know me, you know that I am pretty modest. I was not about to sit around with all those people in my room without a bra. He told me that it had to go...no bras in surgery. He instructed the nurse to get it off me. After a small wrestling match she handed him my bra, which he took and flung on my iv pole. Now remember I am a crying, sobbing, hysterical mess who is surviving on little sleep and was thinking my baby was dying. I ended up yelling at him..."That is NOT some toy to just be flung around." The people in the OR got quite a chuckle out of that one. I guess it was then that I regained some composure and got some of my sense of humor back.
Within a few minutes my mom joined me for the surgery. I can't say that it was a very pleasant experience. My spinal was way too high. I could not feel anything below my neck. My hands were not only strapped down, but they were feeling pretty numb. As soon as the incision was made, I vomited...again and again and again. Pretty much until the surgery was done. What a joy though...my baby was perfect...
I can remember the family congregated in the recovery room waiting to meet our son for the first time. I can also remember being immensely afraid to hold him because of not being able to fully feel my hands! I can remember that instant feeling of falling in love all over again and the heart of thanksgiving we felt for the Lord protecting us as he did. As it turns out, the insurance company ended up covering the c-section because of the emergency nature of it. My prayers were answered, just not in the way I thought they would be!
I went on later to have 2 more children, and 2 more c-sections. All births just as special as the first, but with a whole lot less drama! Thank you Lord!
The poor dog has been hiding out in his little den for the past few days. I know he is feeling a little...naked after his haircut. I know I'm not helping matters much, I pretty much giggle every time I look at him. Thankfully his hair will grow back. Hopefully he won't be emotionally scarred for life. You should have seen all the fun he had running around in the woods!
