Let's get on with the Bloody Show!
Last Saturday marked the 39th week of the pregnancy. It was also my friends Sarah and Ron's wedding day. I had been hoping that Lenny would hang in there so we could make it to the wedding and she did. It was such a treat to share in Ron and Sarah's day and to hang out with our friends, especially knowing that this would probably be our last pre-baby night out. It was a truly wonderful wedding.
I had been feeling great all day leading up to the wedding and was completely energized by the time we got there. Then, at the reception I started to experience some classic symptoms of what our midwife had told us to watch out for as "pre-labour". The appearance of the aforementioned bloody show and some old school, "I forgot what these felt like" period style cramps. Nothing to cause any concern, just an indication that she'd probably be arriving sooner rather than later. It could still be a matter of days, or weeks even. But there was light at the end of the tunnel, which was a very nice feeling indeed. That night I slept better than I had in weeks. A solid, restorative, deep sleep.
Sunday morning at 9am when I sat up to get up and go to the bathroom I felt what can only be described as a glug of liquid, umm, release itself from me. And that's when the questions started. Had I just peed myself or had my water broken? It was a slow leak, that I couldn't stop or control but it wasn't clear like amniotic fluid should be, nor was it tinged with brown or green the way amniotic fluid containing meconium would be, it was sort of yellow, the colour of straw. After about an hour of this I called our midwife who suggested I try a few things and track the progress of the leak. She came over two hours later to check things out. Turns out my water had broken and it was the colour it was because there had been meconium, but that it had likely happened a couple of weeks ago when the baby turned herself around to the head down position. Old meconium is less dangerous than new meconium which can cause the baby difficulty breathing post-birth because it is so sticky and is quite dangerous if inhaled. That said, old meconium is no treat either. We were now on a clock - the baby had to be delivered within the next 24 hours.
We had to head to the hospital right away and induce labour. "Meconium babies" need to be monitored closely during labour so I would be confined to bed with a fetal monitor and a contraction monitor strapped to my belly and an IV dispensing Pitocin into my arm. That sounds like fun, doesn't it? After talking it over with our midwife we decided to get the epidural early. My blood pressure, while not yet high, had started to "trend upward" and an epidural could help lower that. Also, being strapped in and not able to move to help cope with the pain of medically augmented contractions seemed like a very, very good reason to get the pain medication asap. We started the Pitocin (after taking over an hour to get the IV in, I have notoriously hard to find veins) and it took effect right away. The contractions were uncomforatble, but totally manageable at this point. This is when we met the world's most awkward anesthesiologist. You might think that your anesthesiologist was more awkward than mine, but I promise you, that is not the case. Having the epidural administered was a complete drag. It was more painful and scary than any of the contractions up until that point, but what can you do? It took effect right away, leaving my lower half totally numb...and my blood pressure dangerously low.
The Pitocin had to be turned off right away and the anesthesiologist spent the next couple of hours injecting some sort of narcotic into my IV line to help bring my blood pressure back up. Eventually we stabilized my pressure through a combination of medication and having me lie on my left side, which became very painful after a while. The absolute best part about this portion of the day was that what had started as a lovely sun shower outside evolved into a thunderstorm, knocking out the power in the hospital room no less than SIX TIMES. The generator always kicked in almost immediately but it suddenly made me feel like I was giving birth on the set of M*A*S*H.
Once that ordeal was rectified we turned the Pitocin back on to try and kick start the labour. It worked, the contractions were making themselves known, but unfortunately the epidural had stopped working. Oh, it was still on, but I could now feel everything. Truth be told, this wasn't the worst thing in the world. I was glad to feel that my body was working the way it should be, it was just unpleasant that I was stuck lying on my left side and strapped to all those machines. The contractions were strong, but they were short and after hours of this we had made very little progress. I was dilating at a very slow rate and now, the baby's heart rate had started to decelerate with every contraction. Apparently this isn't uncommon later in labour, but at this point I was only dilated to about 3 cm and it could be an indication that she was in distress. After consulting with the OB on call we decided to give it another couple of hours and if things didn't progress at a more rapid rate we would opt for the C Section. They now inserted a fetal heart monitor into the baby's scalp to get a better idea of what her heart was doing. A couple of hours later we had dilated to about 5 cm and the baby, who was still showing signs of distress hadn't moved any further down the birth canal (she was still at -1 station). A C Section at this point wasn't just inevitable it felt like the right thing to do.
Seventeen hours after first inducing labour I was being wheeled down the hall (getting knocked into walls and nurses stations all the way) to the Operating Room. To say I was apprehensive would be the understatement of a lifetime. Meanwhile, the Robeau, who had been by my side for the whole seventeen hours (and at every appointment for the 9 months leading up to this day) was held behind to get into his scrubs while they prepped me for surgery. The OR was bustling and full of people, but I never felt more alone. After a while they brought him into the room, where he had a full view of the incision that they had already started to make in my abdomen. Lucky guy. Once they took him around to the other side of the sheet that was supposed to obscure the view of the carnage he said I looked like Sean Penn at the end of Dead Man Walking, arms strapped down, needles sticking out of my veins. At this point I was on morphine and sucking on pure oxygen and feeling quite disconnected from the experience. It was the worst kind of high.
And this is where it gets hard to talk about.
I could feel them tugging and pressing and pulling on my body for what felt like an eternity and then, over the din of the machines and the clanging of metal instruments I heard someone on the other side of that sheet say, "cord, three times" and then things just kept going they way they were. A couple of minutes later the OB sticks her head over the sheet and says, "you have a beautiful baby girl, we're just going to clean her up", but instead of hearing her cry we hear two voices in unison chanting "ONE, TWO, THREE, BREATH...ONE, TWO, THREE, BREATH". At that moment time stood still, the room started to spin and all I remember screaming through my oxygen mask was "no...no...no" over and over again. After trying so hard to hold it together all day I thought we were going to lose her before we even had her and I lost my composure, hell, for a moment I lost my mind. The Robeau was doing everything he could to keep me calm, telling me they were professionals and they were taking care of her and everything would be fine. Even then, as high and as terrified as a I was I knew he was holding it together for my sake and I was so profoundly grateful to have a man who could set aside his own fears in that moment to try and help me get through what was, without a doubt the worst moment of both of our lives.
Finally, we heard her cry. Our midwife came around to make sure the Robeau would be ready to hold her once she was cleaned up and when I got reassurance from her that the baby was indeed fine (despite having the cord wrapped around her neck three times, having new and old meconium and needing a vacuum to be delivered) I gave in to the drugs and the shock and spent the next 45 minutes or so while they stitched me up and moved me into recovery blacked out.
I remember waking up in recovery, shaking and chattering my teeth uncontrollably while I came down from the morphine. The incision was very painful at this point and my mouth was so dry I could hardly close my mouth. When the post-op nurse, who was impossibly beautiful, gave me a cup of ice I almost went all Double Rainbow guy about the wonder of that styrofoam cup of ice, but I couldn't stop shaking long enough to say anything but "bbbbrrrr" and "ow".
And then, about 90 minutes after she made her dramatic entrance, someone placed Lenny on my stomach and we finally got to meet.
The craziest thing that happened now (and I wonder if I would have noticed this if I wasn't so high) was that as she lay they squirming around and kicking her legs her movements felt just like they did from the inside...only now they were on the outside. Trippy, no?
I'm only half joking when I say that after that birth I think I'm more at risk for Post Traumatic Stress Disorder than I am Postpartum Depression. It was an awful, frightening experience and it's going to be with us forever. That said, we received wonderful, compassionate care and the right decisions were made to protect our baby. The outcome, no matter how we got there is nothing short of perfect. It's my hope that her rocky beginning won't make us over protective parents or prone to spoiling her, but that knowing how close we came to losing her will serve to make us appreciate her all the more. The first 6 days have been, despite all the roadblocks of recovery and the lack of sleep the happiest of our lives. We are one lucky little family.
Last Saturday marked the 39th week of the pregnancy. It was also my friends Sarah and Ron's wedding day. I had been hoping that Lenny would hang in there so we could make it to the wedding and she did. It was such a treat to share in Ron and Sarah's day and to hang out with our friends, especially knowing that this would probably be our last pre-baby night out. It was a truly wonderful wedding.
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| The Robeau and I with our dear friend Hutch pre-ceremony |
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| Ron and Sarah exchange their vows |
I had been feeling great all day leading up to the wedding and was completely energized by the time we got there. Then, at the reception I started to experience some classic symptoms of what our midwife had told us to watch out for as "pre-labour". The appearance of the aforementioned bloody show and some old school, "I forgot what these felt like" period style cramps. Nothing to cause any concern, just an indication that she'd probably be arriving sooner rather than later. It could still be a matter of days, or weeks even. But there was light at the end of the tunnel, which was a very nice feeling indeed. That night I slept better than I had in weeks. A solid, restorative, deep sleep.
Sunday morning at 9am when I sat up to get up and go to the bathroom I felt what can only be described as a glug of liquid, umm, release itself from me. And that's when the questions started. Had I just peed myself or had my water broken? It was a slow leak, that I couldn't stop or control but it wasn't clear like amniotic fluid should be, nor was it tinged with brown or green the way amniotic fluid containing meconium would be, it was sort of yellow, the colour of straw. After about an hour of this I called our midwife who suggested I try a few things and track the progress of the leak. She came over two hours later to check things out. Turns out my water had broken and it was the colour it was because there had been meconium, but that it had likely happened a couple of weeks ago when the baby turned herself around to the head down position. Old meconium is less dangerous than new meconium which can cause the baby difficulty breathing post-birth because it is so sticky and is quite dangerous if inhaled. That said, old meconium is no treat either. We were now on a clock - the baby had to be delivered within the next 24 hours.
We had to head to the hospital right away and induce labour. "Meconium babies" need to be monitored closely during labour so I would be confined to bed with a fetal monitor and a contraction monitor strapped to my belly and an IV dispensing Pitocin into my arm. That sounds like fun, doesn't it? After talking it over with our midwife we decided to get the epidural early. My blood pressure, while not yet high, had started to "trend upward" and an epidural could help lower that. Also, being strapped in and not able to move to help cope with the pain of medically augmented contractions seemed like a very, very good reason to get the pain medication asap. We started the Pitocin (after taking over an hour to get the IV in, I have notoriously hard to find veins) and it took effect right away. The contractions were uncomforatble, but totally manageable at this point. This is when we met the world's most awkward anesthesiologist. You might think that your anesthesiologist was more awkward than mine, but I promise you, that is not the case. Having the epidural administered was a complete drag. It was more painful and scary than any of the contractions up until that point, but what can you do? It took effect right away, leaving my lower half totally numb...and my blood pressure dangerously low.
The Pitocin had to be turned off right away and the anesthesiologist spent the next couple of hours injecting some sort of narcotic into my IV line to help bring my blood pressure back up. Eventually we stabilized my pressure through a combination of medication and having me lie on my left side, which became very painful after a while. The absolute best part about this portion of the day was that what had started as a lovely sun shower outside evolved into a thunderstorm, knocking out the power in the hospital room no less than SIX TIMES. The generator always kicked in almost immediately but it suddenly made me feel like I was giving birth on the set of M*A*S*H.
Once that ordeal was rectified we turned the Pitocin back on to try and kick start the labour. It worked, the contractions were making themselves known, but unfortunately the epidural had stopped working. Oh, it was still on, but I could now feel everything. Truth be told, this wasn't the worst thing in the world. I was glad to feel that my body was working the way it should be, it was just unpleasant that I was stuck lying on my left side and strapped to all those machines. The contractions were strong, but they were short and after hours of this we had made very little progress. I was dilating at a very slow rate and now, the baby's heart rate had started to decelerate with every contraction. Apparently this isn't uncommon later in labour, but at this point I was only dilated to about 3 cm and it could be an indication that she was in distress. After consulting with the OB on call we decided to give it another couple of hours and if things didn't progress at a more rapid rate we would opt for the C Section. They now inserted a fetal heart monitor into the baby's scalp to get a better idea of what her heart was doing. A couple of hours later we had dilated to about 5 cm and the baby, who was still showing signs of distress hadn't moved any further down the birth canal (she was still at -1 station). A C Section at this point wasn't just inevitable it felt like the right thing to do.
Seventeen hours after first inducing labour I was being wheeled down the hall (getting knocked into walls and nurses stations all the way) to the Operating Room. To say I was apprehensive would be the understatement of a lifetime. Meanwhile, the Robeau, who had been by my side for the whole seventeen hours (and at every appointment for the 9 months leading up to this day) was held behind to get into his scrubs while they prepped me for surgery. The OR was bustling and full of people, but I never felt more alone. After a while they brought him into the room, where he had a full view of the incision that they had already started to make in my abdomen. Lucky guy. Once they took him around to the other side of the sheet that was supposed to obscure the view of the carnage he said I looked like Sean Penn at the end of Dead Man Walking, arms strapped down, needles sticking out of my veins. At this point I was on morphine and sucking on pure oxygen and feeling quite disconnected from the experience. It was the worst kind of high.
And this is where it gets hard to talk about.
I could feel them tugging and pressing and pulling on my body for what felt like an eternity and then, over the din of the machines and the clanging of metal instruments I heard someone on the other side of that sheet say, "cord, three times" and then things just kept going they way they were. A couple of minutes later the OB sticks her head over the sheet and says, "you have a beautiful baby girl, we're just going to clean her up", but instead of hearing her cry we hear two voices in unison chanting "ONE, TWO, THREE, BREATH...ONE, TWO, THREE, BREATH". At that moment time stood still, the room started to spin and all I remember screaming through my oxygen mask was "no...no...no" over and over again. After trying so hard to hold it together all day I thought we were going to lose her before we even had her and I lost my composure, hell, for a moment I lost my mind. The Robeau was doing everything he could to keep me calm, telling me they were professionals and they were taking care of her and everything would be fine. Even then, as high and as terrified as a I was I knew he was holding it together for my sake and I was so profoundly grateful to have a man who could set aside his own fears in that moment to try and help me get through what was, without a doubt the worst moment of both of our lives.
Finally, we heard her cry. Our midwife came around to make sure the Robeau would be ready to hold her once she was cleaned up and when I got reassurance from her that the baby was indeed fine (despite having the cord wrapped around her neck three times, having new and old meconium and needing a vacuum to be delivered) I gave in to the drugs and the shock and spent the next 45 minutes or so while they stitched me up and moved me into recovery blacked out.
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| Eileen Agnes "Lenny" Clayton just after birth. In addition to everything else, our midwife takes nice photos! |
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| Meeting Dad |
I remember waking up in recovery, shaking and chattering my teeth uncontrollably while I came down from the morphine. The incision was very painful at this point and my mouth was so dry I could hardly close my mouth. When the post-op nurse, who was impossibly beautiful, gave me a cup of ice I almost went all Double Rainbow guy about the wonder of that styrofoam cup of ice, but I couldn't stop shaking long enough to say anything but "bbbbrrrr" and "ow".
And then, about 90 minutes after she made her dramatic entrance, someone placed Lenny on my stomach and we finally got to meet.
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| I know you. |
I'm only half joking when I say that after that birth I think I'm more at risk for Post Traumatic Stress Disorder than I am Postpartum Depression. It was an awful, frightening experience and it's going to be with us forever. That said, we received wonderful, compassionate care and the right decisions were made to protect our baby. The outcome, no matter how we got there is nothing short of perfect. It's my hope that her rocky beginning won't make us over protective parents or prone to spoiling her, but that knowing how close we came to losing her will serve to make us appreciate her all the more. The first 6 days have been, despite all the roadblocks of recovery and the lack of sleep the happiest of our lives. We are one lucky little family.
