Monday October 20th, at 8 days overdue, I walked down to the surgery (doctor’s office) to see Claire, the midwife. She took my blood, urine, total history, and 2 hours of my life, then informed me that Birmingham Women’s Hospital will not accept me-they hit their capacity for the month and would bill me for using their services. Awesome. (If I had just showed up in labor, they would have freaked out, but since I was looking at induction, they got to say no.) So, I took the bus to City Hospital who said they would accept me…
I went to the “Triage” where I they took another brief medical history and put me on a trace. (Monitor the baby’s heartbeat) After about an hour of that, they talked it over and decided to send me for an ultrasound. Everything looked fine-healthy, normal, 8 pound-ish baby, but Alice just doesn’t move much, I have a 2 vessel umbilical cord, and I’m 8 days overdue… And I want this baby out. They sent me back down to Triage to wait for an hour. Then they put me in a room and said to undress so the doctor could come check me and make a decision about an induction. (They don’t induce before 42 weeks here unless there is a serious health risk.) I got ready and laid on the uncomfortable bed for another 45 minutes... by this point, Paul is on his way home from school, Ggie has been watching Rachel for about 7 hours, and I’m done being alone, half-naked on a table. I rang for the midwife who got mad at me because it wasn’t an emergency. Oops. 2 hours later, Paul showed up to keep me sane. About 30 minutes later, the midwife came to check me-totally closed, undialated, not ready for labor-however you want to say it. Awesome. The doctor’s chatted for another hour, then the midwife came to tell me they could fit me in Wednesday morning, but if the doctor’s reviewed my case and decided I wasn’t urgent, they could change their minds. The angry midwife took me on a little tour of the labor and delivery area which seemed more like a prison than a place to have a nice experience. Not exactly sanitized either. I was pretty much terrified.
So, after 11 hours at doctor’s offices and hospitals, I made my way home for the night. I tried to walk, but Alice was pushing on a nerve, so we took the bus. Phew. What a day. I had a good cry about it all, and I fell asleep telling myself that pioneer women had babies in bushes and kept walking, so I was going to be ok.
Tuesday, October 21st, I slept in a bit and took a hot bath to wash off the Monday blues. Ggie stayed home while Rachel napped, and Carol took me to get a dresser! Yay! I could finally put all the boxes away! We also picked up Paul from school and went to Costco-primarily to buy a normal size package of chocolate chips… but they are OUT UNTIL NOVEMBER 11! What the what? Oh well. We had a fun day, and I was able to prepare my mind, heart, and home to have another baby.
Wednesday morning, Paul and I jumped on the bus to City Hospital where they showed me to the ONLY room on the unit WITH A BIRTHING TUB!!!! It also had nice twinkly lights like stars in the ceiling that change color, and there was a large wall of windows for some nice sunlight! Some of the midwives made fun of me for being “the American in the posh birthing suite” but I didn’t even ask for it-they had just assigned it randomly!
The doctors reviewed my case and decided to go ahead with induction at 10:15 am using a “propess” or “pessary”-I forget the word. It’s basically a tablet (pill) on a string that they put inside you, and it gradually releases hormones to trick your body into labor. (When I had Pitocin to induce Rachel, it went from 0 to 100 in about 1 hour, so this was a much gentler method.) I was warned REPEATEDLY-by every doctor and midwife-that this propess could not work at all. In which case, they would give me ANOTHER propess in 24 hours, and if that failed, I would have 48 hours to go into labor naturally or have a C-section. They would not use Pitocin unless they could break my water first, and apparently there is a magic recipe for being able to break someone’s water, because no one could tell me exactly how far dialated or effaced I needed to be… Anyway, we waited.
We walked. Around 2, I sent Paul home to get Rachel and Ggie since nothing was going on with me. I took a nap and woke up around 3 with a little back pain. I watched some of the 2007 cast of “Our Story Goes On” and felt peaceful seeing friends and hearing familiar songs. Paul, Ggie, and Rachel came around 5 and we walked for an hour or so. I was feeling some intense back pain by 6, but it wasn’t letting up. It wasn’t like a contraction because my belly wasn’t firm, and it never got better or worse. So, I sent them all home around 7 to get dinner. Just after they left, I started noticing an ebb and flow to the back pains and began timing. 6 minutes. 3 minutes. 10 minutes. But pretty soon, we were at a consistent 3 minutes apart. By 9:30, Paul was back and I asked the midwife on call if I could fill up the tub. She said “Honey, it’s just me on call, so I don’t have time. You can take some Parecetomal (Tylenol) to take off some of the edge off.” Ha. Of course it sounds silly, but in my mind, I was going to be doing this for the next 48 hours, so I said “Sure, whatever you can do.”
At this point, I felt like my hips might just be too small for this baby. We were listening to some calming music, but I could feel myself slipping mentally. As the night got darker, I began to feel utterly alone. I just needed someone to tell me I could do it-but it couldn’t be Paul. Paul will never actually know what it takes to give birth. I needed someone who KNEW what I was going through to tell me it was ok. As I was racking my brain, trying to think of something to distract me or help me, I had some thoughts about my dance teacher, Lisa. We had spent several years working together, and she had talked with me extensively about flexibility. I was always self-conscious about not being a super flexible dancer, and Lisa had helped me to work specifically on flexibility in my lower back/hips. But most importantly, I remember her helping me to accept my dancing ability and flexibility as “enough.” She helped me realize that I had other strengths, and I remember her looking me in the eye and telling me that “What I can do is enough. I am enough.” Lisa passed away a few months ago in a tragic car accident, but as I sat there, feeling helpless, I felt like she was there with me-telling me that I was enough. I could do it. I knew she was there, cheering me on, and I felt a huge wave of peace flood over me. I also received a voice message from a dear friend-Jenni Hohl. When Paul played it for me, I was expecting something sarcastic and hilarious-a funny story or something? But Jenni must have been inspired, because she reminded me to breathe and promised that this baby would actually come out. It would be ok and better than ok-it would be beautiful! Exactly what I needed to hear.
I also had a moment between contractions and checked facebook to see words of encouragement from friends and family in America, who I realized were still awake and praying for me or cheering me on. I can’t adequately explain how important it was to read and hear and feel that I was NOT alone. I was in a foreign country without my mother, in inexplicable pain, but I wasn’t alone. I was going to make it! (I’m crying as I write this because if you are reading, you are probably one of those people who was cheering for me, and I can’t tell you in person how much it meant to me. But know that I am eternally grateful, and it DID make a difference to me.)
The midwives and doctors came around in the evening to do a check in. I told them about my contractions, and they said it wasn’t “real labor” until I had 4 contractions in a 10 minute period. They hooked me up to a trace to check the baby’s heartbeat and monitor contractions. If I wasn’t in “real labor”, they would send me to the ward for the night and send Paul home. (WHAT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) Not only would I be in pain, in a room with 4-5 other women and their crying babies, but I wouldn’t have my best friend and support there to help me. And if I went into “real labor” and called him, he may not make it back because there are no busses between 12 and 6 am. Needless to say, I was praying for a miracle. The doctor’s returned to tell me that Alice-the baby who hardly kicked at all throughout the entire pregnancy-had been too active to get a good read, and they would have to do the trace again. Another 20 minutes in bed, hooked up to a machine… but I KNEW my contractions were increasing in intensity and frequency, so this was my miracle! When they returned, they said I was borderline and it was too late to send me to the ward, so PAUL COULD STAY!!!! HALLELUJAH!!!!!!!!!!
At this point, I asked for an epidural. Just to see what they’d say… No epidural until they can break my water. Ok then, I want morphine. “I think we can find someone to fill up the tub for you now. Would that be ok?” YES! For heaven’s sake, do something!! Even just some sympathy…
I labored in the tub for a few hours, and I was feeling like things must be getting serious. The midwife came in to check me… bear in mind this was at midnight-I’m exhausted from contractions every 2-3 minutes for the last 6 hours… I was dialated to a whopping 1.5 cm. I thought my brain would explode. How in the HECK am I only at a 1.5??? I asked for some help, and the midwife gave me a shot that was supposed to be Pethodine (morphine), and told me to “go to sleep.” I labored for 30 more minutes, wishing the morphine would take the edge off, but all it did was make me loopy. I realized at this point that there was no getting around it-I would be dead by the time I had the baby. There was NO way I could keep this up for another day and a half. I cried for a short second, wishing I was in America, because somehow, that would have made it better, right? Paul was amazing-rubbing my back and holding me during contractions. He never missed one. He stood over my bed and helped me on and off the birthing ball when I was too delirious to find it. He basically saved my life.
At 3:15, the gods smiled upon me and my water broke! YAY!!!! It was a huge relief to know I was at least progressing… and if nothing else, I could at least get an epidural to keep me alive for another day! (The midwives had drilled into me that this baby probably wouldn’t be born until Friday, so I was still convinced I had 36 hours or more to go.)
Paul rang for help, and a new midwife came in. Anna. Bless her. She checked me, and I was at a 6, but she made me lay there during a contraction… (for the record, this is really REALLY painful. Ok, got it.) I remember hearing her say “Wow. That’s a 9.” Paul was getting excited, and I blurted something about “give me an epidural”. Anna was great. She said “Yes. Absolutely. We can do that. I think this baby will be here before the epidural would kick in, but let’s go in this delivery room, and we will do everything we can.” I stumbled next door and climbed up on the bed, and someone gave me a little mouthpiece with some kind of gas in it. Kind of like what you might have at the dentist. I clutched onto it for dear life, while Paul held my shoulders and rubbed my back. I knew this baby was coming. I had already felt the urge to push, and now, it was almost surreal. I felt like I didn’t have to think about anything-my body just knew what to do. When I’d had Rachel, I couldn’t feel a thing, so I had no idea what muscles to use or how to push, but this was 100% the opposite. I felt every muscle, but it wasn’t as painful as I thought it would be. Honestly, I was just so excited because I KNEW it would all be over soon! I was so focused, I just remember hearing Paul’s voice in my ear-so full of love and encouragement. And Anna and the midwives kept saying “You’re amazing. Beautiful. That’s perfect. Etc.” And even though my brain knew they say that to everyone, I actually believed them. It was beautiful and perfect, and I was so proud of myself.
When Alice came out, I turned around to sit down and hold her and breathe. I don’t remember how long I just sat there-I was too tired to actually look closely at her, but I knew she was perfect and safe, and we had done it! 3:46 am never looked so good. She weighed in at 4.5 kg-9.9 pounds or 9 pounds 14 oz, I think. A big, healthy, happy little girl!
When I had Rachel, the placenta tore and I lost over 2 units of blood, passed out, and couldn’t feel anything because of the epidural. There was some risk of that happening again, so the midwives were trying to put a thing in my hand to get ready in case I needed a transfusion. Some midwife tried TWICE on the same hand and hit nerves both times. Eventually she gave up, but I wanted to kill her for a little bit. (Still do-my hand is bruised and I can feel the blood in a weird way. I’ve lost dexterity in that hand, and I sure hope it comes back. Gotta have my piano hands!) Anyway, the doctor explained later that I have “a friendly womb”-meaning the placenta doesn’t want to detach and leave, so they decided to take me “to theater” (into surgery), give me an epidural, and take care of removing the placenta. Fine by me, but by the time they got me into theater and explained the procedure and made me sign the papers, (ha-those signatures must be really good) I had lost too much blood. The put me under with General Anesthesia and I woke up 4 hours later. They put in a “balloon” for 24 hours which helped reduce bleeding and helped the walls of the uterus to seal, which was brilliant. In America, I’d lost all that blood, got a transfusion, and then continued to bleed intensely for several weeks. It took A LONG time for me to get my blood levels back to normal. Here, with a balloon, I got to keep most of the blood they transfused, so I’m already feeling better! Amazing.
Paul had been awake, on his feet, and working hard for over 24 hours now, but he took care of all of us until I was awake and well enough for Carol Beasley came to relieve him. He went home, got Rachel and Margie, and came right back so we could have Rachel meet her sister!
When Rachel came in, she had the cutest look on her face and said “Hi Baby Alice.” We had already decided to name her Alice-we’d felt it was her name from the time we first saw her on the ultrasound. So, Rachel knew all about Baby Alice. It was a beautiful moment-we are now a family of 4!
I’ll pick up the rest of the story later, but I just have to mention again how grateful I am for my sweet husband. And for Margie who made it possible for me to have Paul with me. I never had to worry about Rachel, because I knew she was in good hands. And thanks to each of you who sent kind thoughts or well wishes or prayers or any kind of love and support. It means more than you’ll ever know.
Melly! I can't even. You are incredible and beautiful and absolutely AMAZING!!! My heart is do full reading this. I love you and your perfect family so dearly!!!
ReplyDelete