Through The Blur (P3)

I think about death often. I always wonder how it will happen. I like to think I'll be old, lying in bed with my family around me or I'll be young doing something I love, at peace. I tend to go over terrible scenarios in my mind. This thinking usually pushes me into some kind of panic attack, which ultimately ends with me shoving ice cream down my throat. I never thought about dying in childbirth since the women in my family are hardy and pop babies out with ease. My mother told me I have the right birthing hips, so I didn't have anything to worry about. I think when we're pregnant or trying to get pregnant we tell ourselves that everything will be okay. Usually, this is true. I really didn't have anything to worry about. My pregnancy was fairly normal, baby was healthy as far as anyone was concerned. So when it came time for me to have my son I was confident in my abilities (You know where I'm going with this?).

Obviously, I didn't die in child birth... Or did I??? This was my third pregnancy and I was already nervous about this child not surviving. I used all my coping skills to get through my pregnancy and labor without having some kind of nervous breakdown. When I checked in to have my induction (because baby was nice and cozy in my womb), I was nervous but ready to have my son. My husband and I got cozy in our room, gave our birth plan to our nurse, and started getting ready for the evening to begin. We were excited and positive. They checked baby and everything was fine. They checked me and I wasn't dilated much, so they started the medications. I was prepared for this. I had been to the classes so in theory, I was prepared for every situation... Except for what I was about to experience.

Some of the following story is a little graphic, so... just a warning. Let's start of with what happened first. My water wasn't breaking on it's own, so that was done by my midwife. Not too comfortable, but I tolerated it. They stuck a small plastic hook up into my cervix and into my uterus, breaking the membrane. I wasn't on heavy pain meds yet, so I could still feel intense pain and pressure. After a few hours there was no change, so the midwife and nurse decided to inflate a balloon in my cervix, basically forcing it to dilate. Now, I have a pretty high pain tolerance. With that said, this was by far the worst and will forever be the worst pain I've experienced. It was horrible. I laid there for a while, quietly sobbing, while the nurse and my husband tried to get my mind off the pain. I was getting Pitocin, but wasn't having any significant contractions. They kept changing the dose, because my body and baby weren't reacting well. I eventually fell asleep.

The next morning they took out the balloon and I was making some progress. My contractions started coming little by little, but I could still walk around. We were just waiting and hoping for something to start happening. I had been walking around the halls, trying to get something started. I told my husband that I would need him to make a decision if something were to go wrong. I wanted him to know that whatever he decided would be okay. We mainly just wanted our baby to be safe. Then it started... I was walking in the hallway and BAM, contractions. It's hard to describe the pain, but it felt like someone was trying to tear me open from the inside. It's like a wave of horribleness that coats your whole body from head to toe. It takes your breath away.

So it began. I got back to my room and started the epidural (Gods gift to mothers). At this point I had no concept of time, but I believe this happened at the end of the first 24 hours. The next day, I was dilated 10 cm and ready to start pushing. At this point the contractions were coming fast. My nurses changed my position and coached me through my pushing and breathing. If you hear that birth is like running a marathon, that's very true. 3 hours in my son's head had made a short appearance, then retreated. I was swollen and my epidural was wearing off. My contractions were about 15-30 seconds apart, so I was pushing often with short breaks. The pain was increasing and the only reprieve came with pushing. The nurse called in the doctor, who started the C-section discussion. At this point, both my son and I were stable. A slight drop in blood pressure but nothing significant. I told the doctor I was open to a C-section but wanted to try pushing a little longer.

And I did just that. I tried. I tried to get my son out naturally. Something was blocking his way. I could feel his little head in the birth canal. I knew something was wrong. I started sobbing and screaming with each contraction. My nurse was cheering me on, my husband was holding my hand. My energy was starting to fade. 3.5 hours of pushing frequently with my epidural fading, afraid of pushing the button for narcotics, I was losing my battle. The doctor came back in and I was too afraid to make the call. I was hysterical. I looked at my husband... it was the moment for him to make the decision. Baby and I were done.

Once my husband said we wanted the C-section, things started moving. The anaesthesiologist came in and started hooking me up and prepping me. "Okay, there is going to be a lot going on, but I'm here... just keep talking to me... I got you." The doctor brought in the consent form (probably not the best time) and we were ready to go. They started rolling the bed to the OR and I could see my husband getting ready. Once in the OR, they put the sheet up, did a safety check and it began. I could feel the pressure of the cut and the doctors pushing and pulling. They asked my husband to stand up and see my son being pulled out of me. He stood up then sat back down. I looked at him and there were tears in his eyes. I saw both horror and amazement in his face. I could hear my son crying and the doctor shouting, "whoa, big baby!!... the cord's around the neck!!" The doctor brought by son around so I could see him. My husband commented on his toes, which resembled mine. Then, I started feeling the heat rising in my chest. I started shouting that something was wrong, then... nothing. It was like someone flicked a switch and I was gone.

In an instant, I lost consciousness.  In an instant, all the hopes I had for anything going remotely how I wanted it to were dead. I didn't get to hold my baby in the first moments of his life. I didn't get to cry tears of joy and kiss my husband. I didn't get to experience those first moments of becoming a family. My mind and body were done. I will never get that moment back, the feeling of wonder and excitement that comes with having your first child. It was devastating.

When the light in my brain switched back on, my husband and baby were gone. I was still in the OR and people were scrambling around me. I was groggy and knew I had passed out. I recognized some faces, but couldn't really talk.  Going in and out of consciousness, I woke up again in the recovery room with my husband at the bedside and my baby on my chest. It was over, but I was a wreck. A nurse was sitting to my left, entering my son's information in a computer. My husband was to my right, feeding me ice chips. I was happy to see everyone around me was calm and my baby was sleeping soundly. My husband filled me in on the events, "You lost a lot of blood and your blood pressure dropped fast... They handed the baby to me and sent me in here. I've been waiting for you... I didn't know what was happening." He looked exhausted and relieved. My husband isn't easily rattled, but he had just been through his own personal hell, and the trauma was written all over his face.

Side Note:  When you're looking for a partner in life, make sure they can handle themselves in a moment of stress and come out of it with their head still in tact. When you think about your partner selection, "willing to milk breasts," isn't at the top of your list, but it sure may come in handy. When I chose my partner, I had no idea that I had made the ultimate choice. I am truly blessed with an amazing person at my side and I can't say that enough.

The following 5 days after my son's birth were difficult. My baby was orange and losing weight rapidly. Since I had lost so much blood, my milk supply was non-existent. We chose to use donated breast milk and whatever my husband and nurse could get out of me. We were doing skin to skin as much as we could. I was vomiting, dehydrated, sleep deprived, hallucinating, and emotionally unstable. I was being pumped full of medications, it was horrible. I couldn't enjoy my baby. I'm not the type of person who does well in these situations. I don't like being a patient and I'm not the best at asking for help. It was rough and humiliating. By the time they were "ready" to send me home, I was still a mess. The first week was a nightmare as I couldn't keep any medications or food down, I could hardly move and I was sobbing all the time because I couldn't take care of my baby. This lasted for almost a month and It was the worst. My mother and my husband did everything they could to help with my recovery and take care of our baby. There were moments I was a child again depending on others to take care of basic needs. My husband had to see and do things that I never wanted an intimate partner to do. But, you know what? It had to be done. I had two amazing people by my side.

So it comes to this...

I didn't die in childbirth, but I came pretty freaking close. Thank God for modern medicine and awesome doctors and nurses!! Eventually I recovered. My breast milk came in for a little while, but my son never latched, so he was bottle fed. I had to let go of breast feeding, which was difficult. When I decided to stop pumping, it was a huge relief. My mother sat with me one day and said what I needed to hear, "you're not less of a woman or a mother if you decide to stop breast feeding," I broke down in tears and knew she was right. Overtime, my body started functioning again. I started walking and spending more time being mom. I started processing my depression and the events of labor. I realized the following.... I'm a really lucky person. I chose a champion for a partner. I have an awesome mother, who was an excellent caregiver. I had amazing doctors and nurses who saved me and my son's life. I'm a very fortunate human being.

After everything is said and done, I have a healthy child. He's awesome. He slept, he ate, he smiles and giggles. He's happy. From the moment he came into existence, he's been a champion and brings an endless amount of joy to our lives. If I had to go through all of that again, including all the loss, pain, and suffering... I would. Many times over again. He's worth everything I have to give in this world. It's true love and he's the love and light of our existence. Eventually my husband and I were able to have the quiet moment we wanted. In between being sick and all the pain, I was able to sit with my first born and my partner and be thankful for our family and this new adventure. Life is full of these precious moments, and I'm so lucky to be able to enjoy every minute.

“Through the blur, I wondered if I was alone or if other parents felt the same way I did - that everything involving our children was painful in some way. The emotions, whether they were joy, sorrow, love or pride, were so deep and sharp that in the end they left you raw, exposed and yes, in pain. The human heart was not designed to beat outside the human body and yet, each child represented just that - a parent's heart bared, beating forever outside its chest.” - Debra Ginsberg