It’s only taken me 7 ½ months to start a blog about my “little bug,” Emme. Not too shabby, right? I just needed a little help from my friends (and family) to get motivated. It’s so hard to believe that Emme is almost 8 months old – a year old in only 4 ½ months! It feels like it’s only been a few short weeks since Emme entered the world and blessed our lives. I figured the best way to kick off this blog is from the beginning…well, almost the beginning. For those of you who missed the birth story, I’ll try to fill you in to the best of my memory (I was on some pretty good drugs for the better part of two days). I’ll try to leave out all the gory details though.
On Tuesday afternoon, July 7th, I had my 36 week checkup at my OB’s office. A nurse came in to check my blood pressure, just as they had for the previous 20-odd appointments. The nurse made a peculiar sound, left the room without giving us any kind of information, and returned about 5 minutes later with a second nurse. They said that there must have been an error with the first reading and that they needed to take my BP again. After the second reading, they exchanged glances, and told me that the doctor would be in to speak to us in a few minutes. After about an hour left to wonder exactly how bad my BP was, Dr. Dawson came bounding in asking how I felt and if I had noticed any changes – anything. I told him my feet hurt more than they had and seemed to have swelled up even more in the past couple of days (if that was even possible!) and that my hands had also started to swell slightly. He did his routine examination and told me that I was already dilated three centimeters. He also told us that my BP was very high (I don’t remember what it actually was at that time) and that we needed to rush over to Northside for further monitoring and observation. I was showing signs of preeclampsia which could potentially be very dangerous for both me and the baby if it didn’t get under control quickly.
We arrived at the hospital around 4pm. I was put in a room in the emergency ward and was gowned up and hard-wired. I had cords and belts and wires all over the place! A nurse explained that they were going to monitor my BP every 15 minutes for the next few hours and that I should just sit tight and relax, we would be there for a while, and that my OB’s on-call doctor should arrive soon to check on me. Dr. Jeffers was the on-call doctor that day and she came in and explained all the in’s and out’s of preeclampsia, and told us if my BP didn’t start improving in the next couple hours, that I would be admitted to the hospital, and that they would most likely induce me. Well, my BP didn’t get better; it got worse to the tune of 198/115. Dr. Jeffers officially admitted me around 7pm, and told me that they would have to give me an IV treatment of Magnesium to help reduce the possibility of having a seizure, that they would go ahead and start the fluids to induce my labor as well.
Well, the IV line was the one thing that they did not do when I first arrived at the hospital. By this time, my hands and arms were so swollen they looked like something you’d see in a cartoon. I already have small, hard to find veins. This was not going to be pretty! One of the nurses that had been dropping in on me most of the afternoon came in to do my IV. She tried once, twice, three times…no luck. She apologized and said that she needed to call someone in that was much better with a needle than she was. Why didn’t she just have this person do it to begin with??? Nurse #2 came in. She tried twice… nothing. Nurse #2 said that she would have to call in their “special IV team,” but assured me that they were magicians when it came to special circumstances like mine. Two more people came into the room with their very important looking tackle boxes filled with lots of fun, sharp tools and supplies. They told me not to worry, they would have this taken care of in a jiffy…er, second time, definitely…um, third time’s the charm, right? WRONG!
“My goodness, your veins just don’t want to cooperate, do they?”
Really? You just figured that one out? It may have something to do with the fact that my arm is now about as big around as my calf, Sherlock! Just as I was about to knee them in their teeth, they got it. Hallelujah! Wow, that only took a total of 10 attempts! Great job, guys! Glad I could give you all some effin’ practice! I was about 30 seconds away from making them put the IV in my neck! About 5 minutes later, my arms had looked like I was at the losing end of a fight with a Louisville Slugger. I had two HUGE black bruises that ran the length of my forearms, and a couple of bruises on the backs of each hand.
I had about 10 minutes to recuperate from my experience as a pin cushion, when Dr. Jeffers returned with my lovely Magnesium, pitocin, and penicillin cocktail. She told me I may feel a strange sensation from the magnesium, but it shouldn’t be too bad, “most people experience flu-like symptoms.” Whoa! Magnesium is some funky, wicked, bad stuff! As soon as she started the drip, I felt a very warm sensation that started in my arms. I could then feel it actually gurgle through the veins in my neck, and then my chest got REALLY hot. Imagine doing 5 back-to-back-to-back shots of moonshine, then washing that down with 5 shots of Goldschlager. The heat then traveled down into my stomach and my legs, then back up to my head. “Flu-like symptoms” my butt! On what planet??? It felt like I was being boiled from the inside out…and it had only been about 45 seconds since she started the drip. “Not to worry,” she said, “this is the worst dose of the Magnesium. Your discomfort should only last about 20 minutes or so.” FABULOUS! I get to feel like a human electric blanket for a whole 20 minutes. At least I had Eric there to try to distract me with his own version of MST3K on the “patient services” channel on the television. Well, she was right. After the first bag of Magnesium, I didn’t really know it was still coursing through my veins. The good doc also told me that I would have to stay on the Magnesium drip until my BP came down, and then for another 24 hours after that.
Here is where the details start to get a little blurry. I was already exhausted from waking up at 5:15am, working all day, and the afternoon’s excitement. I could already hear the drugs faintly whispering my name. I had progressed slightly and was now dilated to about 5 centimeters. Around 9:30pm (I think), Dr. Jeffers had us moved over to the maternity ward of the hospital and put in a labor and delivery suite which is where we stayed for the next 22 hours or so. Dr. Jeffers kept popping in to check on how I was progressing, and since I was not moving along as fast as she had hoped, made the decision to break my water around midnight. All I have to say about that is that I’m glad it didn’t happen naturally while I was at work, or shopping in Publix or something. Clean up on aisle 7! Very strange sensation, even when you’re expecting it, not to mention messy. My mother and Eric’s parents, and the BAP’s all showed up within minutes of each other somewhere between 10pm and midnight.
I remember Eric being a sweetie and bringing me lots and lots of apple juice as I woke up in between cat naps. At one point, although I’m not sure what time it was. Dr. Jeffers became very concerned with the baby’s “variance” in her heart rate during my contractions and said that they were going to have to do an emergency c-section if she didn’t see any changes in the very immediate future. I explained to her that I did not want a c-section unless it was ABSOLUTELY necessary. She agreed to wait it out a little longer, but went ahead and ordered the anesthesiologist for my epidural, just in case. From what I can remember, the epidural wasn’t that bad. I remember having to lean over and hug my knees for what seemed like an eternity and I remember a little pinch from the needle that numbed the area where the catheter was being placed, and that was it. Next thing I knew, I couldn’t feel my legs and I was off to sleepy land.
I was woken up after what could have only been 20 minutes or so, when Dr. Jeffers returned. She didn’t see any changes that would convince her not to operate, so she had a nurse fetch a wheel chair and some coveralls for Eric. While we were waiting for the nurse to return, I had changed positions and the baby’s heart rate had changed enough that the doctor gave me the option to hold off on the surgery if I wanted to. So over the next several minutes, she conducted a little experiment with my positions, and determined that there was something about me lying on my left side that was affecting the baby’s heart rate and I was “forbidden” to lie on that side any longer. Well, that sounded like an easy task at the time, but despite having the epidural, after a couple hours of lying on my right side, my hip started throbbing, hurting down to the bone. With the nurse’s help, I was turned over to my left, but the baby’s heart rate immediately started to change. Well, at least I had that moment’s relief for my poor right hip. We called the anesthesiologist back in to see if he had any suggestions that would make me more comfortable as far as the pain in my hip was concerned. The nice drug fairy said that sometimes, an epidural could affect one side of the body more than the other, which is what seemed to be the case for me. He somehow moved the catheter in my back to see if that would make any difference. My hip felt better for a couple of hours, but that was about as good as it got throughout the rest of my labor.
Hours slowly ticked by. My poor deliriously tired hubby fetched ice for me time and time again without complaint. He sat firmly planted by my side the entire time, despite my hopes the he too would at least try to get some rest. All of my poor visitors camped out in the lobby and slept in awkward positions on the uncomfortable hospital chairs, enduring the constant ding of the elevator coming and going, waiting for something…anything. As my contractions increased in frequency and strength, I continued to fade in and out of consciousness after requesting and receiving several epidural “top offs”. Then around 3pm on Wednesday, July 8th, I could not sleep anymore through the intense pain of my contractions. What the hell’s going on? I’m so confused! If memory serves me correctly, I’ve had an endless supply of drugs being main-lined directly into my back for the last, oh, I don’t know, 14-15 hours, so I wouldn’t have to experience such intense discomfort. Why isn’t the epidural working anymore? It had only been 45 minutes since the anesthesiologist had dosed me up yet again and I had finally dilated to 10 centimeters. My lease on the good drug fairy had sadly expired. The nurse explained that “you should still be able to feel some pressure, but it shouldn’t hurt.” Pressure? PRESSURE? This was no pressure, my friends. It’s true – those stories you hear - you really do feel like you are about to split right in two.
At 3:45pm, I had a LOT of pain and a sudden urge to push. I told the nurse, she took a quick look, and told me that it was definitely time, but I couldn’t push and to wait as long as I could. Not even a minute had passed…I HAD TO PUSH! The nurse said that frankly we needed to wait for the doctor who was in the middle of performing a c-section, and if I could hold on for a little more than an hour, Emme’s birthday could be 4:56pm 07/08/09. Well, let me tell you, making Emme wait, was like trying to stop a freight train with a feather. It ain’t happ’nin! I told the nurse that I could NOT wait and that I was going to start pushing with or without her help. She then stepped up and grabbed one leg, and Eric grabbed the other. It was time to get down to business. Fortunately, Dr. Simonsen (Dr. Jeffers had been long gone for the night/day, but I found out after the fact that she had constantly called in for status updates the whole time) managed to grace us with her presence not long after I had started pushing. I have no idea where I went mentally, but after only twenty minutes and six good pushes, Emme was finally here! Oh…dear…God! That was the most physical pain I’ve ever experienced in my life, but it was so worth it! Could I do it again? Would I do it again? Sure...of course. The doctor was shocked that I delivered Emme so “efficiently.” I told her that a comment Dr. Jeffers had made hours earlier about the commonality of having to push for 3-4 hours due to being induced combined with it being my first baby was still ringing in my head. Hell, I get winded going up a flight of stairs. There was no chance of me wanting to endure those contractions and having to push any longer than absolutely necessary. Talk about a woman on a mission! I was determined…and made it happen in the shortest amount of time possible.
Eric cut the umbilical cord and, well…let’s just say I needed a towel. But, hey! He did a great job! Emme has an innie! At this point, nothing could possibly surprise me or gross me out. I remember the nurses taking Emme immediately to check her out and wipe her off while I finished up with the “pleasantries.” I remember hearing her soft sweet cry, and Eric saying how beautiful she was. It felt like an eternity, but after maybe ten minutes, I finally got to hold her. For being “premature,” she sure was a cute little chunk weighing in at 7 lbs. 1 oz. And, oh my, she had such a cone head! With all her beautiful dark hair, she looked like she was wearing a beehive. After the three of us had some bonding time, it was finally time to let all our visitors in. They had certainly earned it after all. I think someone had calculated that they had been up for something like 43 hours straight. They were such troopers! Thank you! A wonderful nurse named Tina did Emme’s official measurements, gave Emme her first bath, administered her first injections, and put the drops in her eyes, and did her foot prints. Unfortunately, all of this took place clear on the other side of the room from where my bed was, so I only heard part of what was going on and saw only a little bit here and there. Fortunately, everyone took pretty good pictures of it all, so it was well documented. We all hung out in the labor and delivery suite for another few hours passing Emme around and celebrated with some champagne and then encouraged our visitors to head home for some much needed rest.
Around 9 pm we were moved to the high risk wing of the maternity ward since my BP was still a little high and I was still on the Magnesium. There we stayed for another two days. Once my BP was under control and I was freed from the tether of the Magnesium, we were allowed to move to a normal postpartum room in the maternity ward. What a nice upgrade from the high risk wing! I had arrived at Shangri-La! The friggin’ bathroom was marble and granite, and the shower was big enough for 4 people! There was a MUCH nicer seating area/“guest bed” for poor Eric who had to tough it out for the two nights prior in a fold out chair that was barely big enough for a 5-year old. The room décor was more like a hotel than a hospital, and there were beautiful shelves by the window for me to place all of the gorgeous flower arrangements that people were kind enough to give us. The nurses were nicer, the food was better, and best of all, I didn’t have to maneuver around an IV line and didn’t have a BP monitor strangling my arm every 15 minutes. My upper right arm, by the way, was tender for a week! We were FINALLY able to get a peaceful night’s sleep, thanks to the nursery. Good thing, because that was probably going to be the last restful night’s sleep for a while.
We were discharged around 6 pm on Saturday, July 11th. We loaded up all of the goodies that the hospital was kind enough to “give” us (and then charge our insurance + our co-pay) like two hospital duffel bags filled with cases of pre-mixed formula, diapers, wipes, receiving blankets, hats, mittens, newborn undershirts, three of their awesome insulated drinking mugs, hospital pillows, and we can’t forget about their coveted Northside Hospital infant t-shirt. Too bad they don’t have Northside hospital bathrobes! With all the hospital stuff, presents that people brought us in the hospital, flowers, and my luggage, the back of the Volvo was absolutely crammed from floor to ceiling. I sat in the back seat with Emme while the proud daddy chauffeured us home.
