CONTENT NOTE: Possibly graphic descriptions.
Tuesday, January 31st, marked the exactly four week countdown to my scheduled c-section. Tuesday, January 31st, 2017, also marked the birthday of Little Bear at 4:04am in the morning. Born 6 weeks early, 4 weeks before his scheduled birth date.
But, let me back up and start at the beginning….
A week ago Thursday, I was scrolling through my Pinterest feed and saw a random post pop up about preemies. My literal thought process was “huh, I know Little Bear won’t be a preemie, but I wonder what this article is talking about.” I meandered my way through several other articles, and found myself thinking a lot about preemies. I also got a TDAP shot in preparation of protecting Little Bear for as long as I can after he is born. The next day I started texting questions to a dear friend of mine who is and has been in my shoes for over 18 years now. I asked her questions about how she felt right after her daughter was born, how life was with a baby in the NICU, and several other pertinent questions regarding things that would happen in the first few days after Little Bear’s birth. I periodically asked questions over the next few days. On Sunday, I almost pulled aside two friends at church to ask them to keep their phones on during the night for the following week. I forgot and then shrugged off the strong feeling that I still should ask them to keep their phones on. Monday was another non-stress test and I also woke up Monday feeling very nauseated and light headed off and on. I went back to bed half way through the morning feeling like the very little I had had for breakfast wasn’t going to stay down. I went to my appointment and even though I felt okay, I still felt really off, was lightheaded still, and just felt over all uneasy. I told my midwife at the appointment after the NST (non-stress test) that I felt light headed and just really didn’t feel good at all. She checked pressure, made sure I was eating, and said that I should just rest because it wasn’t anything they were concerned out (in other words, my vitals weren’t showing anything pointing towards anemia, preeclampsia, or things like that). The one last thing the midwife asked me before I left was if I had the on call number for Children’s. Ya know, that number you call when something happens during non-office hours. I said yes, I had the number and it was already programmed into my phone.
I went to bed that night still feeling really crappy and hoping I could sleep. I purposefully avoided taking a Tylenol PM because I hadn’t had a night “off” in over a week. I remember thinking before I crawled into bed whether or not I had actually started dilating because my contractions over the week before had started picking up in intensity but not in frequency. As any pregnant mama will know, I was up an hour and a half after I had gone to sleep needing to pee. Also for the week before last Tuesday, I had felt more and more pelvic pressure and even complained to a few friends about how uncomfortable it was even to pee.
The time was 12:18, I was about to stand up to head back to bed when I felt a very distinct “pop.” It was like popping open a soda can. And immediately a gush of fluid splashed into toilet. I sat there, stunned, unsure of I had imagined that, fairly certain that gush of fluid wasn’t pee, and then immediately went into denial. I figured I could just go back to bed, nah, my water hadn’t just broke.
I stood up, fully preparing to go back to bed, but my underwear felt wet. So I grabbed my phone and went out into the living to call my midwives and figure out what they wanted me to do. I noticed my friend, who I’d asked so many questions of, had just sent me a message 5 minutes before I looked at my phone. I quickly sent her a text and a few other friends, trying to see if anyone was awake so if I did need to go into the hospital, someone could be here to watch Little Monkey. She amazingly was awake and I explained to her via text what was going on while I waited for the midwife to call me back. The midwife on call was the one I’ve talked with the most and she knows exactly who I am, which was helpful. I described what had happened, still not willing to accept my water had broken. I wasn’t feeling anymore “leakage” but I hadn’t stood up in a few minutes and wasn’t hoping up and down on the couch. The midwife told me to call Children’s and said that I described perfectly what every other mother has said it felt like when their water broke. “This is exciting!” she said before I got off the phone. I said it wasn’t, I was only 34 weeks, it’s too early!
Note: Okay, so my water never officially broke on its own with Little Monkey. That meant I had nothing to compare this to, even though, I did know that once my water had been broken with Little Monkey, my labor progressed so quickly I never got a chance to breathe again until he was born.
I got off the phone with the midwife and called Children’s. Within two minutes of getting on the phone with them, they told me to come in. I got off the phone, texted my only friend who was miraculously still awake at 12:30 at night, and went to wake up Phil. I only got to get a clear pair of underwear, turn on my bedside light, tell Phil to wake up, we needed to go to the hospital, and then I was massively gushing fluid. I somehow made it back to the toilet without soaking the floor with amniotic fluid. Phil was so dazed (thanks to his enviable ability to sleep incredibly deeply) but trying to wake up as I sat on the toilet and cried. All I could think was that it was too early, but all I felt was I was running out of time. I felt a quickly counting down internal clock telling me I had to get to the hospital ASAP.
Thankfully, because I had felt strongly about having my bags packed by 32 weeks, all I needed to do that night was pack up my toiletries and then I was set to walk out the door. Of all things, I grabbed a maxi dress I had gotten a year ago to wear to the hospital. The funny part was that I had purposefully gotten that maxi dress a year ago for wearing when I went into labor. Within 30 minutes of my water breaking I started having contractions 10 minutes a part. Strong enough I couldn’t move during them. Every step I took, every time I tried to bend down and pick something up, I was gushing fluid. Everything within me kept pushing me forward with a continual mantra “you’re running out of time, you’re running out of time.”
My friend arrived, I originally thought she could take me to the hospital and then come home and swap with Phil. I still had refused to believe I was going to be delivering Little Bear that night. My friend took one look at me and said nope, you and Phil are going to the hospital. I showed her briefly what Little Monkey’s morning routine was. At this point roughly an hour had passed since my water had broken. The contractions were already getting closer together. The internal voice was starting to yell at me, “you’re running out of time!” I painfully crawled into the car, still in a daze that this was happening. I was only 34 weeks, I had hoped for at least another week and a half.
We made it to Children’s in 25 minutes, now an hour and a half after my water breaking. I was aware as we turned into the parking lot at 1:50AM that my contractions were getting closer together. And still, with every step, every shift, I was gushing fluid. We waited just into the entrance of the Maternal Fetal Medicine Clinic. Phil and I both a bit in shock and feeling dazed. The nurse came down to get us, and immediately started asking questions to which I gave immediate answers. Yes, my water was definitely broken, I’m gushing fluid. And yes, contractions every 5-10 minutes. There was no pause in forward activity as soon as I stepped onto the floor of the clinic. I was taken straight to a room, given a gown, glorious mesh panties, and a pad. Get changed, then lets get you an IV and checked in. I was exhausted already, I hadn’t slept well in several weeks. The lack of sleep had started getting to the point of making me feel sick almost all day every day. The hospital bed was heaven to crawl into despite the god-awful back contractions starting to pick up. It was actually squishy AND comfortable! Amazing for a hospital bed. My room was like a hotel suite. Super high ceilings, floor to about thigh level windows, a bathroom to rival those of a five star hotel. I took it all in in a daze, trying to remember that it had only been barely a month before we had gotten a tour of these very same rooms. My IV got started. I’m sort of a pro at those now, I know exactly which vein I prefer them in, which hand, and how I prefer the tubes taped up.
The heart monitor and contraction monitor were strapped around my belly; the belly in which Little Bear was kicking away.
It was now 2:15 in the morning, between contractions, I was answering the rest of the admittance questions left on my forms. Around 2:45, the surgeon came in. I was actually happy to know that this one of the doctors that had been recommended to me. I quickly understood why. Some of the best bedside manners I’ve ever experienced, especially from a male doctor. I had asked what their goal was. Like c-section ASAP or wait, or what. The response was that they would really like to see if I could wait till morning/daylight since that would mean the pediatric team would be a lot bigger. As Children’s is very selective about the cases they take, most (with a small exception…I was one of those exceptions) deliveries are scheduled. Heck, I passed the OR every time I came in for an appointment. Everything was right there on the same floor, same three hallways. I inwardly laughed when the nurse said they would prefer for me to try to wait. I was half expecting them to try to give me steroids or something like that to try to stop my labor. But I guess they were okay with him coming at 34 weeks and felt like he would be okay. My internal voice was still yelling “you’re running out of time!”
Quick note here before I continue: No matter if I had naturally gone into labor or had made it to the scheduled c-section date, the procedures would have still been the same. Because of Little Bear’s spina bifida, c-section delivery was safest for him in protecting the swelling in his head and the cyst on his back.
Okay…back to the story.
As soon as the surgeon came in, he sat down on the bed, pulling up the ultrasound machine he brought with him. Ironically I had gotten an ultrasound just the day before to check my amniotic fluid. The surgeon was happy with how much was left, and was ready to let me wait, but wanted to check me before making that decision. I saw his face change as soon as he checked me. It was one of the most uncomfortable cervical checks I’ve ever had, mainly because it was like a water hose had been turned on and the pressure was starting to really kill my hips. He looks up at the contraction monitor and quickly counts to 6 (I know how those things typically look and knew immediately that my contractions were most likely 5 minutes apart and closing). He said I was 3 centimeters dilated, 70% effaced, and baby was at 1. He turned to the nurses and said let’s get the OR prepped. It was like a fire had been lit under everyone’s butt. It had been barely 2 hours from the moment my water had broken. I was brought a paper hat for my head, Phil was brought a paper gown, face mask, and hat. The nurses had swiftly put on the same things. I got a painful steroid shot in my thigh, given an awful drink for nausea meant to be taken like a shot. Smelled like dimetapp, tasted like horrible something I couldn’t name.
Another Note: It’s worth mentioning that with Little Monkey, once my water had been broken, my labor went fast and furious, and I went through transition in less than two hours. I explained this to my nurses and I don’t think they believed me until I was checked and was dilating. I have no idea if I was dilated at all beforehand, but I had been saying for weeks that I think the contractions I was having were actually doing something. Especially since they had shifted about a month ago to sharp period like cramp/contractions that reminded me of how labor felt.
The anesthesiologist came in, awkward as heck, but still personable and explained what the spinal would be like and I told him that any anesthesia makes me nauseated. Suddenly all of the nurses came pouring back in the room, all explaining to each other that the surgeon wanted me in the room by 3:30. It was 3:15 now at this point. I was given the final nausea meds, tried to make my way off the bed in between contractions to slowly and painfully sit down in a wheelchair. I was then pushed out the door, across the hall, four doors down, and then into the OR. I was starting to shake both from pain and just shock that this was all really happening. Maybe it was a good that things went so fast. I never got a chance to really think/obsess about the c-section. I never got a chance to get worried, stressed, or anxious about it. I was carefully seated on the edge of the table while the spinal was administered. That hurt. A lot. Especially with the back labor I was experiencing. However, once it was placed, it did its job fabulously well. They laid me down quickly, and I felt from my rib cage to my toes grow numb. The only moment of panic I felt was realizing that I could still “feel,” as in I could tell is someone was touching me or leaning against me. I panicked then about maybe then I would suddenly feel pain. The drapes were up in a flash, I had this blue sanitizing dye all over my belly, and Phil was brought in.
I felt a tugging and shifting of my body by the nurses and surgeon. The anesthesiologist leans over me saying oh by the way, they’ve already started. I was shaking a lot, I knew that was fairly typical for c-sections so I wasn’t worried about it, but I definitely felt shocked/dazed. To the point of barely being able to focus on anything other than the tugging and pulling on the other side of the drapes. I still couldn’t comprehend that I was there. That Little Bear was really truly coming. That it had been only 3 1/2 hours since my water had broken.
I suddenly heard one of the nurses say oh that’s a good looking head, and then instantly Little Bear started crying loudly, protesting his entrance into the world. I started crying hearing his healthy cry. I knew, just knew that he would be okay. I knew he was only going to continue to fight, only now it would be outside my body. My job was done. My body had created him for 7 1/2 months. Now it was up to him. My job was now the backup support.
Little Bear was born at 4:04 AM, weighed 4lbs 15oz, and his length was 18.7 inches. My preemie came out not looking like a preemie. He came out weighing almost 5lbs, rosy skinned, yelling his protest at leaving his warm watery nest. Little Bear was born just less than 4 hours from the moment my water broke. 4 hours. There was a reason my internal voice never stopped saying I was running out of time.
He was born with a head of dark hair, eyebrows and all. I didn’t get to really see him until I had been in recovery for 2 hours. When I finally got to see him, it was a relief just knowing he was doing really well. His apgar score was 7/9. (I’m still not quite sure how those are measured or what exactly they mean…however, that it almost identical to his older brother’s scores when he was born)
I will continue the story in a second (or third or fourth post) tomorrow or later this week. But as I am growing very tired and I need to go pump, I will warp this post up with a few pictures from Little Bear’s first week of life.