For those who are reading this, I must first issue a warning. The following note is about the birth of our first son, Austin Thomas Spofford. As a person who believes in telling "the whole truth, and nothing but," some might find the content of this a bit disturbing or TMI (or the like). If you think you might fall into that category, stop now. If you are interested in why the birthing process took 22.5 hours, read on, but consider yourself warned! :-)
In order to fully tell the story, I must 'back up' a little. Two weeks prior to his birth to be exact. I had a sinus infection. I had been suffering from the pregnancy-induced stuffy nose for a month or so, but I didn't start my nasal rinses (if you don't currently do those, you MUST start, I'm a HUGE fan!) as quickly as I apparently should have, because I ended up with a sinus infection that I just could not get rid of. As it was already difficult to breath at 9 months pregnant, this added factor caused all sorts of complications: I had been missing out of all sorts of fun family activities (TX State Fair, etc), and bailing on responsibilities of all kinds. So, come Monday, the 18th, I finally called my Dr. and requested an appointment and medication. (I had an appointment scheduled for Wednesday, the 20th, but could NOT wait any longer.) So, I got z-pack (is that how that's spelled?), prescription nasal steroid something-or-other, and was told to start taking Mucinex D. Then, my water broke.
Well, it was actually 5am Tuesday morning, but you see my point. I had just gotten back in bed from the umpteenth trip to the bathroom when I felt this sharp-ish pain/poke that caused my eyes to pop open in the cartoon-ish way (think: Wylie Coyote). I then thought "Am I peeing myself?" I went back to the bathroom, and as liquid continued to pour out, I shouted to Seth that it was time to get up, that I was pretty sure my water had broken.
All would have been perfectly fine if I had taken my SIL's advice to "get my bag packed already." See... I was still a little bit in denial that I would soon be a mom, and so my bag sat half-packed for weeks. And given that I had tested Group B Strep positive (GBS+), my water breaking meant we needed to immediately head to the hospital. But, I wouldn't leave before I'd had a shower (minus washing my hair), and we still had to pack our bags, take care of Georgia Mae, tidy up a few things, contact Seth's work, etc. We ended up leaving the house about 6:15, and after stopping at the McDonald's drive-through for food, OJ, and coffee (one of the best decisions we made that morning!), we made it to the hospital shortly before 7am.
They were in the middle of shift change, and since my contractions were light to nonexistent, they had us wait in the waiting room while they readied a room for us. After taking us back to the room (one with a great view!), they did this litmus-strip-type test to check that the liquid was indeed amniotic fluid. The first couple of tries came back negative (I had showered). They checked all sorts of other vitals, waiting for more fluid to test. At approximately 8am, they got a positive reading, the admission process was started, and we called family (and posted on FB).
I had been feeling pains every 5 minutes for about a minute in length since we had been in the car. They were so light and manageable, that they readily agreed to letting me roam the halls (once they'd checked all vitals) to speed the process along and deal with the pain. I would have liked to be at home for all of this time, managing things in my own way. I mean, that is why we took Bradley classes, after all. But, again, given the GBS+ness, I had to be connected to penicillin every four hours for a half hour. They gave me my first dose at 8:30 or so, and thus I could be disconnected from the tubes (I had a hep-lock rather than a full-on IV) and walk around the room, use the bathroom, walk the halls, go to the waiting room, etc. This was great. I thought: I could do this for a long time! When we arrived, I was something like 1 cm.
By noon, I was something like 2cm. The most painful thing thus far had been when the short-digited Dr. (not my regular Dr. who's a female and approximately 6 feet tall) 'checked me.' I about thought I was going to flying through the roof! At this point, I was reconnected to the tubes--IV fluid and penicillin. The Dr. was beginning to get concerned about the slow progress of my cervix. (Once your water breaks, they generally believe that the baby needs to get out within 24 hours, and here we were 7 hours in, and only at 2cm (of 10).) He suggested that since I would be connected to the machine (which was the epitome of everything I didn't want in regards to my perfect birth), that we add some Pitocin. After conferring with a knowledgeable friend and our Bradley teacher, we asked if it could be delayed, but eventually agreed on the condition that it be stopped as soon as the penicillin was done, and I could be released from my connections. So, Pitocin was started.
During the time where drugs were flowing into me, I had the bands around my belly, monitoring his heart rate and the contractions. The contractions got much stronger really quickly, and with each increased contraction, they got more and more worried about his heart rate. It was already at the low end of 'normal' and so when it dropped, it dropped down to scary levels. So, I was forced to lay flat, on either of my sides which was the the worst position for managing the pain. During that, they also decided to put me on an oxygen mask as my stuffy passages weren't allowing (so they thought) for enough air for me and for him. So, here I am, strapped up with bands, IV with three liquids, laying on my side, breathing through an oxygen mask. Yuck. I was able to convince them to let me walk around a little bit after this, but they wanted to monitor him every hour given his recent 'poor performance.'
It was during one of these next monitoring sessions (I don't remember how many later), that they decided he needed more fluid as so much had already come out and he wasn't 'floating' any more. So, a tube was inserted which was pumping me full of fake fluid (which of course came pouring right back out, via gravity!).
By the next time I was re-connected to get my next dose of penicillin (about 4pm), I was only 3-4 cm, so they again recommended Pitocin to get things moving more quickly. It was then that the contractions got really bad (bc of the Pitocin). This caused his heart rate to make really drastic drops again, so at one point the nurse came rushing into the room (they had lost his heart rate via external monitors), and after a brief attempt to get it back via the bands, inserted a heart monitor into Austin's scalp. It was done so quickly, and there was already a tube there, that I didn't even notice pain or anything. These new situations (the tubes 'down there') meant no more using the bathroom by myself, and I was either to get a catheter or use a bed pan. As someone who was still trying to use as few interventions as possible, I ended up using the bed pan several times. (Not a fun experience.)
Now that I had tubes coming out of me 'down there,' the IV was the least of my concerns. I mean, there was no getting out of bed at this point anyways, so they decided to leave the Pitocin connected, doing it's thing. It had also been almost 12 hours, and my cervix was still no where near where it needed to be. Thankfully, now that they could reliably monitor Austin, I didn't have to have the uncomfortable (as an understatement!) bands around my belly. I still had to have the oxygen mask on, and they really liked me on my sides (which I hated!) because Austin's heart rate seemed 'happiest' with me like that. The Dr. came in and told us that he wanted us to consider getting an epidural. "Either you get an epidural now, and hopefully cause your body to relax, and your cervix to do it's thing, and if we need a C-Section you can be awake. Or, the next time his heart rate drops like that, I'll take you for a C-Section anyways, and you'll be asleep." (His heart rate was getting scarily low. I don't remember numbers, but the nurse showed Seth everything, and we knew the Dr. wasn't just saying that.)
So, picture this: Austin's heart rate monitor tube, a tube pumping me full of fake fluid, an oxygen mask, laying on my sides, lots of IV tubes coming out of my arm. Whew! Then the contractions got. really. bad. I was doing everything I could from my confined position to deal with the pain, and Seth was right there the whole time, doing everything he could do. The Pitocin caused me to dry-heave too, so once the contractions started coming really close to one another and really intensely the entire length of the contraction, I was laying on my side, hovering over the infamous pink bucket, hanging onto my oxygen mask with the other hand.
The other thing that I experienced (that I had not heard about) was the shaking! I was shivering like I was in the middle of a WI winter with just a t-shirt on. I didn't feel cold; I actually felt hot and asked the AC to be turned up several times. I just could not stop my convulsing. Add to that the dry-heaves every few minutes, laying on my side, tubes, tubes, and more tubes, oxygen mask, and the level of severity my contractions had gotten to, I was rapidly wearing out. I cried to Seth that though I was fully disappointed in myself, I was honestly thinking "either they take him via C-Section right now, or they call for the epidural man. I cannot sustain us both any longer." I'm crying as I write this because I did not want pain medication. Some want it, get it, and are happy with their choice, but as someone who set out to have a natural birth, it just seemed like thing after thing was getting in the way of that dream/goal. I was also getting really emotional at the time because I felt like I was failing him. His heart rate had been so scary so many times (even after the unreliable bands had been replaced with the reliable scalp monitor), that I kept beating myself up about it. I thought: "I have nothing left here. I need him out, for his sake and mine." We both cried, and then Seth went and got the nurse to call for the epidural.
Within minutes the man with his magical cart came wheeling into the room. (It literally seemed like 2 minutes, if that.) The man asked me to sit up, face sideways, sit cross legged, and bent over my knees. Well, anyone who's been pregnant (or had a bowling ball inserted into their shirt) knows that bending over yourself like that is almost impossible. There. is. a. stomach. in. the. way! I was still convulsing and so as the guy tells me to hold still I shout "I can't! I can't help the shaking!" And then a contraction passes (all with dry-heaving and convulsing included), he tells me to expect a couple pinches (why do they always describe shots as 'pinches'?), and within 30 seconds it was over, and he was taping the tubes to my back. He explained the push button, gave me some initial dose, said that he regularly saw epidurals relax the woman's body enough that the cervix just decides to get with the program, and rolled himself and his cart back out of the room. It was crazy!
Now that the pain was being managed, I wasn't working so hard, and immediately I felt cold. I got blankets, was allowed to lay on my back, stopped dry-heaving, stopped convulsing, had a catheter inserted (as I had no other option at this point). It was about 8pm and they did another round of penicillin and 'upped' the Pitocin. I was "about 5" cm. Enter magical time! We turned the Rangers on, Seth went and ate dinner in the waiting room with his family, I called a couple people. It was wonderful. (Seth later says that we had previously fully underestimated how much the epidural would impact him!)
By midnight (only a few hours later) I was at a 10, and it was time to start pushing. What was funny (in the ironic way, not the humorous way) was that as we had been getting ready Tuesday morning to go to the hospital, I nonchalantly said to Seth "If he's going to come early, wouldn't it be cool if he came on 10-20-2010?" And now, 20 hours after my water broke, we were at that point! So, the Pitocin was turned off, and I started pushing.
Now, I should also say here that though I was managing the pain with the epidural, I was using it as lightly as possible. They said "don't allow pain, but allow pressure." Well, I allowed a little bit of pain. The pain was nothing once I wasn't shaking, could lay like I wanted, and wasn't dry-heaving every other minute! So, when it came time to push, I could pick up my legs, feel what I was supposed to be doing 'down there,' etc. We ended up pushing for several hours (he was born at 2:28am). That sounds terrible to some people. "You pushed for 2.5 hours!?!?" But, it wasn't really like that. I mean, his heart rate was still uncomfortably low and would drop with each contraction, so they only allowed me to push with every third or fourth contraction. And, once the Pitocin was stopped, they went back to every 5 minutes or so, so I didn't really do that much work during the 2.5 hours. Sometimes she'd only let me push once rather than three times with each contraction.
Once I got to the point where she summoned the Dr, the room flooded with people. I mean, like 15 people came into the room. At that point, Austin must have gotten really shy because I didn't have another contraction for like 20 minutes! Then we were back to pushing, and once his head was out, the Dr. had to remove the umbilical cord from around his neck (explaining the heart rate issues), and then out he came!
I was asked if I wanted a mirror which I passionately refused, but Seth's glad he got to see the 'whole enchilada.' He cut the cord, they whisked Austin away to the warmer, rubbed him clean, did foot prints, vitals, etc. I turn to Seth and say (I kid you not) "Did that just come out of me?" I mean, it wasn't that I didn't feel him exiting my body, but it's a totally crazy experience that nothing can prepare you for. I knew there was a baby in my belly all those months, but nothing can fully explain to your brain what that means until he/she is out, making movements and noises all apart from you. It's crazy wonderful.
So... That's the story of Austin's birth. In the end, Seth and I are both really glad with how things turned out. It's not at all what we hoped for, practiced for, or wanted, but it was the way the birth was supposed to go. We honestly believe that. I'm thankful that the staff wasn't overly pushy with interventions, that they let us decide what and when and why (except the scalp monitor and antibiotic). I'm also really glad that though I got an epidural, I could feel the birth of my son. (I mean, who in their right mind is ready to ask for major surgery before even trying pain medicine!?) I think, though, that if I hadn't had to have the oxygen mask, if I had been able to take good, deep breaths whenever I needed/wanted, that I might not have had to have so many interventions. That is why "The Sinus Infection was one complication too many!"