Welcome, Zoe: Part 2

Zoe girl is a month old today. Right now, she is asleep on my chest. I can hear her soft breaths and gentle heartbeat. She is soft and warm. Her hair is fuzzy after I wash it. She smells sweet, like Dreft and baby lotion. She can push herself up onto her forearms, and today, held herself up for an entire minute. She likes tummy time, ceiling fans, and Ranger kisses. She is beginning to re-actively smile at things: my voice, her reflection, her Gigi’s wide smile…The smile is my favorite part. It makes the late-night feedings worth it.

 

Now, back to her birth story…

We checked into the hospital at 5:30 AM. I was examined by the same nurse, and was given the same room as the night before. Immediately, the began the process of inducing labor.

First, I was to be given an I.V. for fluids. Typically, this is an easy process. The nurse expected to be in and out within 5 minutes. My husband and I knew better. I was stuck 5 times by 3 different nurses before they were able to successfully insert the I.V. in my right hand. This would prove to set the tone for the day, and ultimately, my labor. My doctor came to visit around 9:30 AM, where he talked me through the day’s labor and delivery process. Afterwards, he broke my water. Now, I’ve never been one to flinch at physical pain, but for some reason, Dr. Price breaking my water hurt worse than I could have imagined. I believe it was fear. And possibly the large knitting needle that had been inserted into my personal space.

    Yeah, it was definitely the knitting needle.

        Once I was able to relax, he was able to break my water easily. They gave me a choice as to when to receive my epidural, and I chose to have it administered immediately. I had been through so much pain during my pregnancy, I did not see any reason as to why I could not enjoy the labor.

The epidural was a different horse altogether. I am allergic to silicon, and as you may have guessed, quite a few common medical supplies are made of silicon: including, but not limited to, catheters. Whenever my nurse looked at my chart, she looked puzzled. She asked me a few more questions, and left the room in search of a silicon urinary catheter. Thirty minutes later, she returned. “This is the last one we had in the entire hospital,” she said, holding up something in a sealed plastic bag, “we threw out all of the latex ones last week.” The knowledge of this allergy created an even bigger problem with the epidural, and the anesthesiologist was certain that his catheters were also made out of (you guessed it) silicon. The only plastic caths they had were outdated, unsafe, and rarely used. They inserted it once, but it began to bleed. They removed the plastic cath and debated as to whether or not they would try again. Luckily, after further research, they discovered that the new, safer catheter was made out of nylon, and they were able to comfortably insert it. Again, I was frightened. Hunched over, I held onto the nurse’s hands and tried to think of anything–anything at all–to take my mind off of the procedure. I was forced to stare at my hands for what felt like hours. Nervously, I said,

“I think I need one of those stupid fidget spinners.”

    I’m not as funny as I like to think I am.

With the epidural successfully administered, all that was left was to wait.

And wait we did.

And wait.

And wait.

Once 5:00 hit, we were ready to push. The nurse, Kylar, and myself were the only three in the room. The lights were dimmed, and the sun was beginning to set. All things considering, it was peaceful and quiet. I began to push. Despite the nurse stating that I was pushing correctly and doing an excellent job, nothing was happening; Zoe wasn’t moving. After several tries, we began to notice something alarming on the monitors. Zoe’s heart-rate was dropping, but was not recovering. When it did recover, her little heart overcompensated. The medical team knew they had to intervene, and they had to intervene quickly.

The nurse left me to rest while she searched for my doctor. Finally, she found him, finishing up another emergency C-Section in the O.R. The two came in, and with sympathetic eyes, told me that they recommended a Cesarean. They approached me as if they were going to have to try hard to convince me. “Just do it. Get her out of me.”

Once we decided to do a C-Section, everything felt as if it moved very quickly. Last week, someone asked me how long I was in surgery. I was tempted to say 20 minutes, but I knew that couldn’t be accurate. I looked at Kylar, who replied, “Well over an hour.”

Over an hour? Sheesh. 

Once in the O.R., they injected a large amount of anesthesia into my body. The initial epidural injection was making me cold and shaky. The increased amount caused me to almost convulse. They made my stretch out my hands as if I were on a cross, and I know I looked..Scary…to say the least. At one point, I accidentally grabbed one of the poles that held the surgical screen, and I shook the screen unintentionally and violently. Kylar noticed before I did, and quietly slipped his hand under mine to prevent any embarrassing accidents.

I could feel pressure and tugging beneath the screen, but I felt no pain or discomfort. Kylar and I laughed and made jokes with the anesthesiologist. We pushed through the nerves and dealt with our fears the only way we knew how: through humor. Finally, a sharp cry was heard. It was the most beautiful sound, and I cried. In between sobs, I looked at the love of my life and said,

“She’s O.K. Our baby girl is O.K.”

 

Sincerely,

Sarah E.B. Christison

Exhausted New Mom