To fully appreciate my labor, you need a little back story. Six years ago I was in a serious car accident and broke my back (I shattered my L1 vertebra) which resulted in multiple surgeries that left me with four pounds of titanium in my spine consisting of four rods a mesh cage and multiple screws. By all accounts I shouldn’t be alive, and I definitely shouldn’t be walking, but miraculously somehow I managed to survive and thrive after a year of rehabilitation. Two years later I was married. After a year of failed attempts at pregnancy I went to the doctor to see what was wrong. It was at this time that I was diagnosed with PCOS (Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome). I was informed that due to cysts on my ovaries I was no ovulating. The major symptoms included rapid weight gain, depression, and infertility. I began meeting with a fertility specialist and was put on a plethora of prescriptions to allow for a greater possibility of conception. Another couple of years passed without any success. The fertility specialist we were seeing said there weren’t lot of options left when my body wasn’t ovulating. She told me it was highly likely I would never get pregnant. I had lost hope and resigned my thoughts to the fact I would never have kids. Two months later I had a positive pregnancy test.
My husband deployed to Afghanistan when I was nineteen weeks pregnant we both hoped that he would be able to return for the birth. At seven months I went into the hospital with contractions. They administered three shots to get the contractions to stop and sentenced me to bed rest for the remainder of my pregnancy. I took a five week course at the hospital to be fully prepared for my labor, birth and new child. At thirty nine weeks I meet with the anesthesiologist on duty to see if it would be possible to have an epidural if needed despite all the hardware inside of me. He looked over my x-rays and said although it would be more difficult, it looked possible. My husband got home for his R&R and two days later my water began to leak. At every doctor’s appointment I had always been told that if my water broke to go directly to labor and delivery so I wouldn’t become infected. Seeing as my pregnancy was high risk from the bed rest and the back issues I complied and was admitted around 8:30 P.M. Once they tested to make sure I was in fact leaking water, they hooked me up to and IV to administer fluid and Pitocin, which I was talked into because my water had broken I was not progressing in my dilation. The contractions quickly began and it was most comfortable to lie on my side. However, I remembered from my earlier hospital visit that the machine had a hard time reading my contractions on my side so I asked if this would be okay. I was re-assured that I should lie whichever way was comfortable. From then on I was checked on every fifteen minutes and each time they increased the dose of Pitocin. Unfortunately, the baby’s heart rate dropped so in order to keep it elevated my husband had to roughly rub my belly while I was contracting. Contractions hurt enough without the added pressure. I felt as if he were trying to break the skin for the baby to crawl out of my belly that way. It got to the point where I was have one contraction on top of another with no time in-between to relax and gather my strength. After several hours of this I was spent, my back was killing me due to back labor and I needed the time to take a breath. I asked for an epidural. I was now dilated to a six and it was only then that they realized how intense the contractions had been, saying it wasn’t reading them properly because I had been lying on my side! They had to give me a shot to stop the contractions so they could attempt an epidural.
The anesthesiologist on call was made aware of my situation and unlike her colleague she didn’t believe the epidural would be possible, but I let her know I was willing to try if she was. Within a minute or two my entire right leg was numb…and nothing else. They kept telling me it would eventually kick in, give it time, but after four or five contractions we were all very aware that the epidural had been a failure. The nurses asked me to labor on my back, but I refused because the only way I could deal with the pain was on my side. They let me know that if I was on my side they would have to put a monitor up inside my uterus to measure my contractions that way. So with no medication and a dead right leg they started to insert wires up inside of me. It felt like exactly what it was: someone shoving computer cords up my vagina into my sensitive contracting uterus with an occasional, “sorry hun, usually if we do this they can’t feel anything because of an epidural.”
After the nurses realized all the difficulty the Pitocin gave me they let me body advance slowly and naturally. After several more hours I told my husband I was ready for a C-section. I had wanted to avoid this at all costs, but I had now dilated to and eight with absolutely no medication, on Pitocin, having severe back labor with a broken back. The nurses tried to tell me that I was at an eight and I could make it to ten, but I knew my bodies braking point and I was there. The nurses let me know they would call the doctor and it shouldn’t be long because he lived just down the street. Over an hour later the doctor finally showed up and examined me. At that time I was at a nine, so he refused to do the C-section because he argued I would be dilated to a ten and ready to push before they had me prepped for the procedure. He also let me know he was reluctant to do a C-section because he would have to put me under since I couldn’t have an epidural and that was an added risk he didn’t want to take. There was nothing else I could do but try and do all I could to focus on my contractions.
After about another hour a nurse came in to check on me and gave me the news I had finally dilated to a ten. She held one leg up and my husband held the other, urging me to push. I didn’t feel like my body was ready to push yet and let the nurse know. After monitoring my contractions she fetched the doctor. The doctor upon examining me decided we would have to do an emergency C-section because my contractions were too far apart and he was concerned to put me back on Pitocin with the way the baby’s heart rate kept dropping. If I wasn’t so tired I would have been enraged; had he just listened to me I could have saved myself several hours of needless pain. It was at this point that they let me know they would have to put a catheter in and that it would hurt since I wasn’t numb down there. However, it wasn’t even that simple. The baby had already entered the birth canal and was pressing down so much it took two nurses and five tries before they finally succeeded in their task. It was now nine something in the morning I had been pretty much contracting NON-stop all night with several additional pains added on and I was exhausted, angry, sore, and devastated. I worried for my unborn child hopping that everything would be okay. As I waited to be taken to the operating room I had to try and keep my body from pushing him further down, wanting only to get him out as soon as possible for his own safety as well as for my peace. I felt if my body had to endure anything else it would fall apart and I didn’t know how to keep myself together. As they began to put me under I remember thinking I was done I had hit the proverbial wall and then darkness…
I guess it took me an hour to come to. My husband had been able to follow our child to be weighed and washed while I returned slowly to reality. My head was still spinning and groggy and when my sweet little boy was placed in my arms it took a moment to realize that he was my child. That this little boy was the baby I had fought so hard for. I had succeeded.
I had ten staples holding my incision together, and it took several weeks to recover. Several people would ask me about my labor and at the time all I could offer them was, “it was rough” because I was so traumatized at how difficult the whole process had been. I would get emotional just thinking on it because I felt neglected by those who were meant to care for me and used ill by those who should have made things easier for me rather than easier for them. It was only later that I learned I could have stayed at home until I had progressed further; there was no reason to put me on Pitocin right away; the nurses and staff should have been aware of the magnitude of my contractions as well as my continual discomfort; the anesthesiologist could have tried the epidural again; the nurses and doctors should have given me a C-section when I first asked for it. I think I would have had a harder time getting over all of this if it were not for the miracle that is my son. It took us three and a half years to get pregnant and even now as I look back on it, I would still do it all again because I would rather have my little man than not.
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