Birth Story, Part III: The Cesarean
May. 25th, 2007 07:47 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
same_skyWhen I left off, I had just received an epidural, which messed with both my blood pressure and the baby's heart rate. I continued to labor for a while with the epidural after the heart rate issue was settled. I was laying on my right side immediately after the epidural, and half an hour later, they flipped me to my left so I wouldn't end up lopsided numb. After a while, though, I began feeling the contractions on my right side, and down into my thigh. At first it was just an annoyance, but then it became painful (which of course isn't what I signed up for when I asked for an epidural, so FIX IT.) I mentioned it to the nurse and she helped me roll back over, which helped, and then she called for Brad (the anesthesiologist). Brad showed up and tinkered with stuff, but in the end, he didn't really change anything because of the blood pressure thing and the fear of that happening again. Speaking of the extremely low blood pressure incident--M finally confessed after reading Part II that neither him nor my mom were unaware of what was going on, and they WERE freaking out but good. They were just hiding it from the unconscious one laying in the bed. They did a good job on that one.
Sometime around four, the doctor came back in and checked me again. I was up to about seven.. hadn't changed in three or four hours. Meanwhile, my temperature was rising and my blood pressure was still sucking. The combination of how long I'd been in labor without progressing any farther and the rest of it made him recommend a c-section. I am glossing over some of this because I don't entirely remember all of what he said. In my memory, he basically told me that I needed to have a c-section. M remembers him leaving it up to me. I guess only one of us was not under the effects of narcotics, but I'm the one writing this so I will allow my unconscious to lay the blame solely on the good doctor. I remember being quiet for a long time and finally, when he was clearly waiting for my response, said, "well, I don't have to be HAPPY about it." See, I am snarky even when I am doped up. They told me that one person could go in and they'd bring scrubs. I asked if two could go--they said yes, so I asked Mom if she wanted to. I told her that she would have to stay with me because M had instructions to STAY WITH THE BABY when it left the room no matter what. They started dressing, which I took pictures of. (I have a series of pictures from the bed, which amused me because they're pictures from my point of view.) Then they wheeled me off to the operating room alone, promising to bring Mom and M in soon.
The operating room was cold, and there was music playing. I think they turned it off by the time the surgery started. Brad was by my head the entire time, fiddling with his.. stuff. He was so, so good. They didn't strap my arms down, which I swear I had heard someone say they did, but I did have them stretched out. He asked one of the nurses to give me a second IV in the other side. Earlier, in my room, he had picked up my IV hand and looked at in utter disgust and snapped at a nurse to give him some tape so he could tape it down--apparently, he did not feel that the nurse who did the first IV was competent to do so. Second one did hurt less, so I guess he knew what he was talking about, but then I was stuck with two IVs. He gave me a shot in the arm, which I gave him a hard time about, since everything on my body but my arms was numb, and he had to stick me THERE? He also let me know that he had looked up my antibiotic allergy and I was right about its class. Even while on the table, I was pleased that I had gotten it right, and that he had been interested enough to check. (I was so good at school...) My skin was cold, so he went to get a towel to wrap my arms in. A warm towel. See what I mean? I was shaking from the drugs. He kept talking to me, distracting me with details of what was going on and what he was doing and why, and asking me questions about all sorts of things he was bound to not really need the answers to, all the while doing his job extremely competently. I used to think that if I were going to have a c-section, I would be annoyed at not being able to see what was going on, but when they put the tent up, I realized that I had a strong aversion to seeing anything down there anyway.
M and my mom came in, and M was directed to sit by my head, and my mom got to stand in full view of the cutting. I could have done without the smell of burning flesh, but other than that, the actual procedure was mainly just weird... like someone tugging at your insides without pain. The pediatrician was there, and he talked my mom through the whole thing, explaining exactly what they were doing and why. She is half in love with this man now because she was not doing so well with seeing her baby cut open, but he made the whole thing bearable. I remember thinking that my mom could find someone to talk to anywhere. M was sitting by my head and talking. Neither of us remember what we were talking about. Brad continued dancing around fixing with things and entertaining/distracting us. He even took the camera from M and snapped a picture of the two of us. I wish it hadn't turned out blurry because it's a neat picture.
After they pulled the baby out, she screamed bloody murder. The pediatrician whisked her off to the side of the room to look her over, taking my mom with him. I could hear them talking and my mom oohing over the baby. Her apgars were 9 and 9, and her eyes were wide open, and did I mention the screaming? [Meanwhile, in the hallway outside, a nurse opened a door enough so that my family could hear the screaming. Nice nurse.] M stayed by my head even though people--including me--kept telling him that he could go see the baby. He refused to leave me, and later he said that he didn't think it would be fair to see her first (though he did get a glimpse from across the room--we have photographic evidence of that!) Finally, the pediatrician brought her over for me to see. She was red and screaming and she was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. :) I was afraid to touch her at first because I didn't know if I was allowed, but I got to kiss her a couple of times before she was given to M and then taken to the nursery.
M's moment of glory: She was under a warming light, and he was standing by her side while my family watched through the glass. She was still screaming, so he leaned in close to her and started talking to her, and she stopped crying. It happened several different times that his voice calmed her. He had been talking and singing to her in utero for months before her birth hoping for just that very reaction, so it was a beautiful thing to watch in action, apparently. I have heard this story a dozen times by different family members. :)
Meanwhile, in the operating room, Brad offered me a sedative twice and I refused it twice. I wanted to be as alert as I was right then when I finally got my baby back. The third time he didn't ask, and gave it to me anyway--apparently, you bear down if you're in pain, and that makes it hard to sew someone back up--according to my mom--Brad explained. I threw up several times, but luckily (I guess) I hadn't been able to eat anything. I pretty much slept through the rest of the surgery so I can't tell you much more about it. I did wake up as they were finishing up and then wheeling me to the recovery room.
In recovery, I was basically overjoyed to be awake and over with the whole cutting thing. M brought the baby in right away and handed her to me, so I held her for the first time and then immediately fed her for the first time. She latched on uncommonly well (according to the nurses). There was much chatter and vitals-taking and everyone was looking at my breasts and taking pictures. After a while (an hour?) they wheeled me to my new room. I was pretty alert and almost drug-free by then, and visited with lots of people until finally everyone left. And I called Carrie! My parents spent the night at our house and everyone else went home. It nearly killed me to do it, but I realized that we had to send the baby to the nursery for that first night. I wasn't even allowed to get out of bed until after midnight, much less take care of her.
To be honest, I have had a pretty easy time of it, relatively speaking. It was awful and traumatic, but it seems like it was not as physically challenging for me as for.. most everyone else who has told me their c-section stories. I don't know why. The epidural mishaps, and the fear of giving me too much again, might have helped in the long run. I did put a bit of effort into the recovery by forcing myself to get up and walk as much as possible as early as possible, and I refused to take any of the painkillers they were hawking stronger than motrin. (I was afraid of a Stadol-like response, for one thing.) Other than perhaps the skill of my doctor, a higher pain tolerance than the people I've talked to (unlikely) or pure blind luck, those are the only things I can think of that may have caused my apparent relative ease of recovery. It was extremely painful, though--still is, a bit. It sounds stupid, but I had really not spent much time contemplating the fact that c-sections = SURGERY, and surgery = the SUCK. The whole pain and recovery factor really took me by surprise, because I am not actually as smart as people think I am. Apparently.
So, that's pretty much it for the birth story. It was obscenely long but I'm glad I wrote it out. I'm already forgetting things--more in this last episode than the first one. I had to ask M about some stuff while writing it. Which.. there were many more drugs involved by the third part than in the first, so I guess that makes sense. As far as emotional responses go... I was really broken-hearted about the whole c-section/bad labor thing. I still am, but I have stopped crying about it now so there is some progress. ;) In the end, I got what I was after and that's all good. I still have a bunch of questions and sorrows about it. I worry about theoretical future children and having to worry about attempting a natural birth after a cesarean versus would the same thing happen again so should it even be attempted and would another epidural cause the same thing to happen with the blood pressure, etc. Yes, I'm worrying about having to worry about stuff later on. Mainly, I'm just sad that it didn't go as I planned. Determination only carries you so far, I guess.
If you read this far--hey, cool! Thanks! :)
For some reason, LJ refused to let me post this last night or all day today. It posted a test (private) post with no trouble. LJ is anti-birth story! Spread the word. If I had a breastfeeding icon, I would totally use it with this post.
Sometime around four, the doctor came back in and checked me again. I was up to about seven.. hadn't changed in three or four hours. Meanwhile, my temperature was rising and my blood pressure was still sucking. The combination of how long I'd been in labor without progressing any farther and the rest of it made him recommend a c-section. I am glossing over some of this because I don't entirely remember all of what he said. In my memory, he basically told me that I needed to have a c-section. M remembers him leaving it up to me. I guess only one of us was not under the effects of narcotics, but I'm the one writing this so I will allow my unconscious to lay the blame solely on the good doctor. I remember being quiet for a long time and finally, when he was clearly waiting for my response, said, "well, I don't have to be HAPPY about it." See, I am snarky even when I am doped up. They told me that one person could go in and they'd bring scrubs. I asked if two could go--they said yes, so I asked Mom if she wanted to. I told her that she would have to stay with me because M had instructions to STAY WITH THE BABY when it left the room no matter what. They started dressing, which I took pictures of. (I have a series of pictures from the bed, which amused me because they're pictures from my point of view.) Then they wheeled me off to the operating room alone, promising to bring Mom and M in soon.
The operating room was cold, and there was music playing. I think they turned it off by the time the surgery started. Brad was by my head the entire time, fiddling with his.. stuff. He was so, so good. They didn't strap my arms down, which I swear I had heard someone say they did, but I did have them stretched out. He asked one of the nurses to give me a second IV in the other side. Earlier, in my room, he had picked up my IV hand and looked at in utter disgust and snapped at a nurse to give him some tape so he could tape it down--apparently, he did not feel that the nurse who did the first IV was competent to do so. Second one did hurt less, so I guess he knew what he was talking about, but then I was stuck with two IVs. He gave me a shot in the arm, which I gave him a hard time about, since everything on my body but my arms was numb, and he had to stick me THERE? He also let me know that he had looked up my antibiotic allergy and I was right about its class. Even while on the table, I was pleased that I had gotten it right, and that he had been interested enough to check. (I was so good at school...) My skin was cold, so he went to get a towel to wrap my arms in. A warm towel. See what I mean? I was shaking from the drugs. He kept talking to me, distracting me with details of what was going on and what he was doing and why, and asking me questions about all sorts of things he was bound to not really need the answers to, all the while doing his job extremely competently. I used to think that if I were going to have a c-section, I would be annoyed at not being able to see what was going on, but when they put the tent up, I realized that I had a strong aversion to seeing anything down there anyway.
M and my mom came in, and M was directed to sit by my head, and my mom got to stand in full view of the cutting. I could have done without the smell of burning flesh, but other than that, the actual procedure was mainly just weird... like someone tugging at your insides without pain. The pediatrician was there, and he talked my mom through the whole thing, explaining exactly what they were doing and why. She is half in love with this man now because she was not doing so well with seeing her baby cut open, but he made the whole thing bearable. I remember thinking that my mom could find someone to talk to anywhere. M was sitting by my head and talking. Neither of us remember what we were talking about. Brad continued dancing around fixing with things and entertaining/distracting us. He even took the camera from M and snapped a picture of the two of us. I wish it hadn't turned out blurry because it's a neat picture.
After they pulled the baby out, she screamed bloody murder. The pediatrician whisked her off to the side of the room to look her over, taking my mom with him. I could hear them talking and my mom oohing over the baby. Her apgars were 9 and 9, and her eyes were wide open, and did I mention the screaming? [Meanwhile, in the hallway outside, a nurse opened a door enough so that my family could hear the screaming. Nice nurse.] M stayed by my head even though people--including me--kept telling him that he could go see the baby. He refused to leave me, and later he said that he didn't think it would be fair to see her first (though he did get a glimpse from across the room--we have photographic evidence of that!) Finally, the pediatrician brought her over for me to see. She was red and screaming and she was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. :) I was afraid to touch her at first because I didn't know if I was allowed, but I got to kiss her a couple of times before she was given to M and then taken to the nursery.
M's moment of glory: She was under a warming light, and he was standing by her side while my family watched through the glass. She was still screaming, so he leaned in close to her and started talking to her, and she stopped crying. It happened several different times that his voice calmed her. He had been talking and singing to her in utero for months before her birth hoping for just that very reaction, so it was a beautiful thing to watch in action, apparently. I have heard this story a dozen times by different family members. :)
Meanwhile, in the operating room, Brad offered me a sedative twice and I refused it twice. I wanted to be as alert as I was right then when I finally got my baby back. The third time he didn't ask, and gave it to me anyway--apparently, you bear down if you're in pain, and that makes it hard to sew someone back up--according to my mom--Brad explained. I threw up several times, but luckily (I guess) I hadn't been able to eat anything. I pretty much slept through the rest of the surgery so I can't tell you much more about it. I did wake up as they were finishing up and then wheeling me to the recovery room.
In recovery, I was basically overjoyed to be awake and over with the whole cutting thing. M brought the baby in right away and handed her to me, so I held her for the first time and then immediately fed her for the first time. She latched on uncommonly well (according to the nurses). There was much chatter and vitals-taking and everyone was looking at my breasts and taking pictures. After a while (an hour?) they wheeled me to my new room. I was pretty alert and almost drug-free by then, and visited with lots of people until finally everyone left. And I called Carrie! My parents spent the night at our house and everyone else went home. It nearly killed me to do it, but I realized that we had to send the baby to the nursery for that first night. I wasn't even allowed to get out of bed until after midnight, much less take care of her.
To be honest, I have had a pretty easy time of it, relatively speaking. It was awful and traumatic, but it seems like it was not as physically challenging for me as for.. most everyone else who has told me their c-section stories. I don't know why. The epidural mishaps, and the fear of giving me too much again, might have helped in the long run. I did put a bit of effort into the recovery by forcing myself to get up and walk as much as possible as early as possible, and I refused to take any of the painkillers they were hawking stronger than motrin. (I was afraid of a Stadol-like response, for one thing.) Other than perhaps the skill of my doctor, a higher pain tolerance than the people I've talked to (unlikely) or pure blind luck, those are the only things I can think of that may have caused my apparent relative ease of recovery. It was extremely painful, though--still is, a bit. It sounds stupid, but I had really not spent much time contemplating the fact that c-sections = SURGERY, and surgery = the SUCK. The whole pain and recovery factor really took me by surprise, because I am not actually as smart as people think I am. Apparently.
So, that's pretty much it for the birth story. It was obscenely long but I'm glad I wrote it out. I'm already forgetting things--more in this last episode than the first one. I had to ask M about some stuff while writing it. Which.. there were many more drugs involved by the third part than in the first, so I guess that makes sense. As far as emotional responses go... I was really broken-hearted about the whole c-section/bad labor thing. I still am, but I have stopped crying about it now so there is some progress. ;) In the end, I got what I was after and that's all good. I still have a bunch of questions and sorrows about it. I worry about theoretical future children and having to worry about attempting a natural birth after a cesarean versus would the same thing happen again so should it even be attempted and would another epidural cause the same thing to happen with the blood pressure, etc. Yes, I'm worrying about having to worry about stuff later on. Mainly, I'm just sad that it didn't go as I planned. Determination only carries you so far, I guess.
If you read this far--hey, cool! Thanks! :)
For some reason, LJ refused to let me post this last night or all day today. It posted a test (private) post with no trouble. LJ is anti-birth story! Spread the word. If I had a breastfeeding icon, I would totally use it with this post.
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no subject
Date: 2007-05-26 02:48 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-05-26 04:13 am (UTC)I hope this helps you on your road to healing. And I hope that the breast-feeding continues to go well. At least you will have success there, where you didn't for an intervention-free birth (*knocks on wood). Sometimes our bodies just don't want to co-operate with our wills. :-/ Just remember how much success you had in bearing Ducky. You made it through nine months of pregnancy with no major hitches, laboured for quite some time, and are feeding your baby well. Actually giving birth is definitely an important part of it, but it is only one piece in a much bigger puzzle. You tried your best, and made decisions based on your and your baby's safety rather than your preferences. That shows maturity and strength.
I hope you heal quickly and well. :-)
no subject
Date: 2007-05-26 10:48 am (UTC)I hope you're doing okay *hugs*
no subject
Date: 2007-05-28 01:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-06-03 09:45 pm (UTC)Your baby is darling and congratulations.
Olivia
no subject
Date: 2007-06-06 03:25 pm (UTC)Thanks! :)
no subject
Date: 2007-06-19 07:15 pm (UTC)