Chapter Nineteen: Giving Birth

I was nervous and excited as we checked in at the ER.  I kept a rag between my legs the whole time, expecting to just gush at any moment as many women had told me their experiences of doing, and gladly sat down in the wheel chair as we began our trip to labor and delivery. 

After I had my hospital bracelets, a gown on and was in bed, a nurse came in talking how there was a good possibility I had just wet myself and began to explain all the symptoms and experiences I had already though of previous.  I told her I was confidant it was my water and she seemed a little dismissive saying, well we will know for sure if this turns blue.  With that she stuck her fingers and a strip of paper up inside me and I couldn’t help but grin when I saw the now blue strip she held in her hand.  She promptly started bustling around the room explaining why she needed to start an IV and pitocin, which I asked if we could do without, but she insisted it was something I needed.  I allowed her to talk me into it, believing this was what was needed for me and my baby to stay safe.  After half an hour on the pitocin my contractions were still pretty far apart and not progressing my dilation, something they didn’t want to see as they kept talking about infection from having my water leak.  The nurse assured me she needed to turn the pitocin up for my sake.  My contractions grew considerably more painful.  I had a monitor reading my contractions strapped to me and asked if I could lie on my side as it was more comfortable that way, making sure that would not affect the monitor.  The nurse kindly told me I should do what was most comfortable. 

I was worried and caught off guard when suddenly the contractions began coming hard and fast.  I felt I hardly had time to breath before another one was starting all over again.  After about an hour of this I begged for pain pills, which I took and felt absolutely no affect from.  Although this was disappointing, it didn’t surprise me as after the back injury it takes a lot for me to feel any sort of affect and with a little baby inside of me, I would rather feel the pain than shoot any more medications inside of me.  I went through another treacherous hour of agonizing pain, where I literally felt I couldn’t so much as catch my breath between the contractions and was starting to get worried.  The pain in my back was getting worse as I started to have back labor and I felt I was reaching my limit.  It was at this point I asked for an epidural.

Now I had been hesitant about an epidural as they typically go into the spine right where my hardware was at, but having talked to my doctor and the anesthesiologist beforehand and having provided x-rays, it was determined it was worth trying, but there was no guarantee.  Well I was at the point I was ready to try.  A nurse finally came into the room and I broke down crying over yet another contraction about how they were too close together. She looked at the machine and seemed to give me a look.  I rolled onto my back again, hoping she would initiate some sort of relief and I saw her eyebrows go up as the machine started changing.  My contractions were much too close together and more intense than they should have been.  The nurse forgetting the pitocin had been turned up went on and on about the monitor had not read the contractions because I had been on my side. I was upset as I felt as if she were somehow blaming this on me, when I had specifically asked her. I was tired, breathless, in agony and done.  I told her I wanted an epidural and I wanted it now. 

Before the epidural could even be attempted, I had to be given a shot to stop my contractions as I was contracting way too close together to even have it administered.  I remember the irritation I was feeling as I felt as I had just gone through hell because I hadn’t been properly checked on or listened to.  The fact that they insisted I had to be contracting and dilating at a certain speed to then stop the contractions just seemed ridiculous to me.  However, my agitation eased as the contractions slowed and I finally was able to take a breath of air.  Josh was by my side the entire time, holding my hand and talking to me.  He kept me focused and allowed me to compartmentalize the pain.  After several hours, we were well into the night and I was not dilated to a six.

The anesthesiologist came in and was very taciturn and after looking at my x-ray said she didn’t think she could do it.  I was angry now.  I had been to the hospital week before to talk to an anesthesiologist who told me it was possible.  It just seemed like everything on my birthing plan was being tossed out of the window and I was mad.  The nurses had stopped my contractions for this, so I insisted she at least try.  Somewhat begrudgingly, as it seemed to me, she attempted to give me an epidural.  After about twenty minutes it was clear it was not going to work.  I was at a six and I would have to make it to ten all natural.  After the ordeal I had been through I started to doubt my resolve as the pain in my back was more intense than anything I had ever experienced before.  I feared.  I feared how the pain was going to only increase when I already felt like I was close to my breaking point.  I wanted what was best for my son though, so I was ready to keep trying.  The nurse again turned up the pitocin as the shot had stopped my contractions completely and I argued once again that I did not want to go through what I had just been through.  She reassured me it was just to get me going and this time I insisted I lie on my back although it made my back labor hurt worse as seemed to feel every surging muscle push against the bed I lie on.  To make matters worse, the sweet little baby in my belly began going into distress that every time I contracted his heart rate would drop to very low levels.  In order to stimulate the baby Josh’s new task was to deeply massage my belly with every contraction. Pain.  So much pain.

I endured for several more hours as Josh fed me ice chips telling me I could do this, I was beautiful, I was strong.  I tried to focus on the blessing of this baby.  The blessing I had my husband here for this miracle.  I had this beautiful even that for so long was such an impossibility. However my back felt as if it were deteriorating and the pain I felt was more intense than any of the back pain I had after the accident.  This baby and my body were banging me up from the inside out and I knew I had hit my limit.  Several times I felt the creeping black, on the verge of passing out from the intensity of not only the labor pain, but the accompanying back pain.  I told Josh I needed a C-section.  Josh tried to talk me out of it, as I had told him previous the importance of a pushing the baby through the birth canal, but I let him know I had nothing left.  This felt like it was literally killing me and I needed a C-section now.  Josh, being very aware of my pretty large pain threshold began to understand the magnitude of what I was saying and went to find a nurse.  After checking me she declared I was 8cm and coaxed me saying I was close, I could finish this out.  This time I refused to be talked into something different.  I wanted a C-section and she needed to go and get the doctor now.  She agreed that she would do so and said the doctor lived close so he should be in shortly.

It was over an hour before the doctor arrived at the hospital.  Another hour of vomiting due to the intensity of the pain and crying to Josh that I just couldn’t do anymore.  Josh soothed and talked and comforted as much as he could, but his words meant little as I wanted to punch him every time he started pushing on my belly for the sake of our son every time I was hurting the most.  When the doctor finally made it in to check on me, I had dilated to a nine and he said he would not do a C-section as by the time they had me prepped I would already be pushing; which meant once again, I did not get what I wanted and felt I needed.  Another very slow hour of pain went by before I was finally relieved with the news that I was at a ten and we could start pushing.

I felt awkward as a nurse grabbed one leg and Josh grabbed the other and was told to push.  I argued that I didn’t feel like I needed to, but the nurse insisted I try.  I pushed a couple times, but it felt wrong and insisted I wasn’t ready.  As soon as the nurse left the room though, my body finally felt the urge and began pushing.  The nurse came back in and was worried at how far apart my contractions were.  Insisting that if they remained this far apart I would literally be pushing for hours on end, endangering myself and the baby.  The doctor was called in and upping the pitocin was discussed again, but denied as it was very clearly putting the baby in distress.  In the end it was decided that for the baby’s health, I needed to have an emergency C-section.  The news was shocking and concerning for many reasons.  I was terrified my baby was having to fight so hard to enter this world.  Throughout my entire pregnancy I feared the loss of my baby and now, more than ever I felt like this miracle was going to be ripped away from me.  I was also concerned as I was going to have to be put under for the C-section since epidurals were not an option for me.  This meant I was at greater risk, but it also meant I would not be aware or coherent when my baby was born and that was an experience I was remiss to have to give up when I fought so hard to dilate all the way to a ten.  However, if it meant the safety of my child, then it was the only option that was right.  I started being prepped for surgery, being told to fight the urge to push.  I was scared.  Josh was really scared as his blank, white face gripped my hand.  This wasn’t how we saw this playing out at all, but it was such a comfort to know I wasn’t doing this alone.  I knew how blessed I was to have my soldier home for this as I had no idea how I would have survived it all without his love and devotion at my side.

Finally I was wheeled into surgery.  I remember the mask being placed on my mouth and counting backwards.  I woke to lights moving above my head. I was being moved. My son.  Was my baby okay? Yes. Your husband is with him now.  Yes? My baby is okay? Yes.  Where is he? Being weighed. Can I hold him? When they are done.

Grogginess and sluggishness still clung to me.  Josh came in the room, which still spun a little.  He assured me our baby boy was okay.  He was beautiful.  He was perfect.  My heart was breaking that I still had not seen or held my baby.  I wanted my baby.  I needed my baby.  As if my thoughts or medicated mumblings were heard I realized my beautiful Dorian was being placed in my arms. He was so little; although, I was assured that his seven pounds and 10 ounces weren’t exactly small. 

My world stopped as I held my son in my arms for the first time.  Everything I had worked and hoped for was now here.  Years of prayers, medication and herbal supplements and I now held this beautiful pink boy that was a part of me.  It amazed me as I realized I was now a mom.  MOM.  In my hands I help this sweet and perfect creature who needed my care and protection.  I knew then and there I would do all that I could for this sweet little blessing.  I would do all.  I would be the best mom I could be for this angel sucking on my breast.  I am proud and nothing in the world could ever rob me of the elation I had in that moment. 

I look up and see a smile stretching from ear to ear on Josh and I feel so united and in love. We made this miracle together.  He gave me this beautiful gift.  The whole room was love and excitement and I knew without a doubt this would forever be one of the brightest days of my life. This was what I wanted my forever to be.

The exhaustion of my night of laboring and pushing began to become apparent to my body, but I was only willing to sleep when the burse came in insisting they needed Dorian back to finish their tests and confirm he was healthy in every aspect.  I held tightly onto Josh’s hand as they took my child from me and smiled again at him in happiness.  We were both exhausted, but smiling fools as the smell of my newborn son lingered on me.

The day passed as Josh and I both napped off and on, welcoming family as they came to partake in our glad addition.  I was sore from the emergency C-section but grateful in the end both baby and I were healthy and happy.  I remember asking how may staples I had put in me to close the incision and was disappointed when my all time total came to 99.  As silly as it sounds, since I had been cut into once again, I had hoped to at least make it an even 100.  Josh laughed at my silliness and we cooed and awed as we spent every second we could with this sweet little babe.

Night time was fast approaching and Josh asked if he could go home and sleep.  Fear struck me.  I had a hard time sitting up to feed, how was I supposed to pick my child up out of his little crib?  Here it was the very first night and I had to try and be a mom all on my own? I was exhausted too, but this should come naturally to me right?  I knew if I asked Josh to stay he would, but I also knew if he was too tired him being here wouldn’t help either of us.  I agreed, but lost a bit of courage as he walked out the door.  Dorian was happily napping, so I decided to follow suit.  After about an hour, I heard his newborn whimper indicating he was needing something.  Fear gripped me at first as the pain stabbed through my incision, but my baby needed me, so I stood quickly walking over to my son and picking him up.  I got back in bed, another difficult and painful process, and tried to get him to eat and was discouraged when he wouldn’t latch.  I began to doubt myself.  Maybe I wasn’t feeding him right.  Maybe he wasn’t hungry and I just didn’t know what he wanted.  Maybe, maybe, maybe ran through my head as his whimpering cry turned into more of a scream.  I ambled out of bed once again to change his diaper, upsetting him only more.  I then began to pace the room, bouncing and singing which seemed to work, until I stopped.  So, exhausted, worn and sore as I was, I bounced and sang for close to two hours until I was hoarse and dead on my feet.  Still he cried.  I felt like I was already failing as a mom as I had no clue what this beautiful and very loud baby needed.  I was panicking and feeling a little dismayed and bitter that Josh left me to learn this all on my own.  I could barely even make it to my bed.  My eyes were burning, my baby was screaming and I knew I was bleeding.  I tried once more to try and feed my son, but again he refused my nipple.  In despair and ready to lose it, I called the nursery asking if they would come take my son.  I felt defeated.  I felt failure.  I felt pain, both physically and emotionally because I did not know how to care for my son.  How was I going to do this?  How was I going to raise this child when I knew Josh left to return to Afghanistan in just over a week, when obviously I didn’t know how?  The nurse came in and collected Dorian.  I told her I thought he was hungry and she said she would feed him, but the nursery would not keep him longer than two hours.  Two hours was enough for me.  I passed out instantly and what felt like only five minutes passed and before I knew it they were returning my beautiful boy to me again.  He had been fed and was now calmly sleeping. We slept together for about an hour when he woke again.  Again I pulled myself out of bed and sang and bounced until I could do it no longer.  I tried again to feed him, but he still refused. I eventually got him back to sleep and slept for only a couple of minutes when Josh returned to the room with breakfast.  Finally, relief swept over me and I fell fast asleep.

I was woken up when a nurse insisted I feed my child.  Thoughts of last night flooded my mind as I described how my son would not eat off of me.  The nurse gladly called lactation down and helped me get my son to latch onto my nipple.  It all seemed so simple, but last night had proved otherwise.  Josh didn’t ask how my night was, so I didn’t tell him as I was embarrassed and ashamed, feeling again as if I was a failure. 

Later the doctor came in to check my incision and scolded me over the fact I had already managed to pop out five staples.  He discussed having to re-staple me, but in the end decided to use glue and steristrips to ensure I remained closed. I knew without a doubt I had lost them during my rough night, but once again held my tongue and promised to try and be easier and slower with my movements.

I slept most the day, waking to feed, cuddle and visit, but the time came for us to be released and while I was excited to bring my baby home, I was fearful again at all my inadequacies as a new mother.   I remembered the moment I first held my little bundle in my arms and remembered again I would do everything in my power to love and protect this child, giving myself comfort that there was no need to fear when I already knew from my rough night, his needs would ALWAYS come first. As we collected our things I looked around the room and smiled.  Josh and I had been such a little family for so long, and now, we would always have this.  We left the hospital together, a family of three.