Monday, September 12, 2011

The birth of a mother

Lyndsay shares her son's and her daughter's births:

I always knew I wanted to be a mother. I remember when I was three years old, my mother brought my sweet little baby brother home from the hospital. I watched her gentle hands while she cared for him. I watched her nurse him quietly taking in the moments they shared. I mimicked her behavior with my dolls, nursing and wrapping and holding them close always thinking in my little child-like brain that I couldn’t wait to be “grown up” and have real baby all my own.

It would be a long time before that dream came to fruition. While in nursing school, I did a rotation in Women’s Health … and hated it. It was all I could do to get through the lectures and go to clinical. I felt that way because I feared that I would never have the opportunity to be a mother for 2 reasons: the first was that I was single, coming ever closer to 30, and still hadn’t found “the one.” My second fear was what if I did find a wonderful man, got married and couldn’t have children? I was better off staying far away from anything that had to do with babies, so needless to say the day I took that final was a good day. The second semester of nursing school, I met that wonderful man. I knew he was it for me on our first date and he felt the same way. We were married 11 months later and expecting our first child just 3 months after that.

After graduation, I was offered a great job. Not a job in the Emergency Department like I had planned, but a job in -- you guessed it -- LABOR AND DELIVERY. I hesitated at first, but the director was very supportive of me, and being 5 months pregnant I really needed to take what I could get. I know now that I was destined to be an L&D nurse. Witnessing the birth of a child is one of the most spiritual endeavors on this earth and I feel closer to God every day I am a part of it.

I had a pretty uneventful pregnancy. When I was 38 weeks, I went to my weekly appointment with my OB. My mother had flown in to be with me for the Eric’s arrival, and I was so ready to have a baby. My blood pressure had started to increase, so my doctor and I came to the agreement that I would be induced at 38 2/7 weeks.

At the time, I was still a very new nurse, and an even newer soon-to-be mother. I didn’t realize the risks involved with an induction, and my doctor was not confident that I would delivery vaginally. My cervix was not ripe and my Bishop Score was not promising -- my doctor was proud of his low cesarean section rate and hoped I wouldn’t affect it. Honestly, I didn’t really care, I just wanted to have him here safe and sound.

I was admitted into the hospital at 6 p.m. on March 5, 2008. I was greeted by a wonderful nurse, who coincidentally is one of my dear coworkers today. My cervical exam was 1 cm, thick, and high ... not good for a baby to come out “from below.” I was given a small dose of Cytotec (dun, dun, dun ... ooooohhh yes, the evil drug!) at around 9 p.m. and the cramping and contractions started within the hour. I handled the contractions (sorry I don’t call them “waves”) really well. They are uncomfortable, but I was still able to rest and relax, preparing myself for the work ahead.

I didn’t go into this experience with any other goal than a healthy baby. I knew I would get an epidural eventually but wanted to experience labor without one for as long as I could. I really don’t like pain and I wanted to enjoy this experience as much as possible. I sent my husband home to sleep, as I knew this would be a long haul and I hoped that he would be rested and ready to welcome our baby. My mother stayed by my side as my main support. At 2:45 in the morning, I was awakened by a “pop” and a gush of fluid. It was actually kind of funny because it scared me -- I thought to myself, “What just happened? Did my water just break?” The fluid was clear, my baby looked great on the monitor and the very next contraction I was initiated into the world of active labor.

Oh ... my ... gosh ... and people do this for hours and hours? No thanks ... where is that anesthesiologist??? The contractions were so much stronger without the cushion of water. I remember feeling like someone had taken over my body, like I was not in control. When I was in the middle of a contraction all I could think about was, "When will this contraction end?" And in between them, all I could think about was, "When is the next one going to come?"

My nurse checked me and I was 4 centimeters, 50% effaced, and -1 station, yay progress! I was contracting strongly every 3-4 minutes and the baby was looking great on the monitor. It was really comforting to me to be able to hear his heartbeat. I was progressing enough on my own that I didn’t need any further augmentation. That one small dose of Cytotec had put me into labor. Within an hour of my membranes rupturing I got an epidural ... ahhhh relief. I was able to rest and let my body do its miraculous work.

At around 7 a.m., I began to feel sudden pressure and pain. At the same time, I could hear my baby’s heart begin to decelerate. I knew from my training what needed to be done. I turned over on my side, and within seconds two nurses came rushing in. They started oxygen, gave me some extra IV fluids and checked my cervix -- I was completely dilated and the baby was at 0 station. I knew that decelerations in the fetal heart rate are common with rapid dilation and descent. His heart rate quickly returned to normal, I relaxed and began to mentally prepare myself for the events to come. I think it was divine intervention that my OB was in surgery that morning because it allowed me to “labor down” and let me body work on its own, saving me from possibly hours of pushing.

My mom called my husband to update him on my progress. Her exact words were, “David, things are progressing a little faster than we thought, you may want to start heading over to the hospital.” The pain and pressure had increased but I didn’t feel the need to push ... yet. As soon as she hung up, I told her get him back on the phone and tell him to get over here NOW! I was suddenly afraid he was going to miss the best part! He got there within 45 minutes, pretty good for getting a shower and a 25-minute drive. At 8:15, my new nurse (another sweet and wonderful girl!) came in and informed me that my doctor was out of surgery.

Her timing was perfect because I started to feel the pressure and urge to push. My OB came in around 8:25 and the first words out of his mouth as he entered my room were, “Boy, did you prove me wrong!” At that point I was hurting, and pushing felt so unbelievably good, so good in fact that my body just did it on its own. I was afraid my baby boy was going to just pop out onto the floor! My doctor reassured me that he was ready to catch him whenever he was ready to arrive. I begged him to give me some lidocaine because I knew that “ring of fire” was going to hurt.

Everyone in the room was so encouraging and coached me with care; at 8:35 a.m., my sweet Eric Christopher was here. He was born with a nuchal cord as well as a true knot, which explained the prolonged decel when I went to complete. They laid him on me and I will never forget that moment as long as I live. The feel of his soft, warm, squirmy body, the sound of his sweet cry, the look in his eyes as he peered into mine.

He was here, he was mine, he was healthy, he was beautiful, he was blue! He wasn’t blue all over, just his face. My mother asked the nurse, “Why is he blue? Is he OK?” In a thick accent the nurse replied, “He OK, his lips pink, see?” She pulled his little quivering lower lip down gently to reveal soft pink gums. His face had bruised from the quick descent and as well as sitting in the birth canal for so long while I labored down. My husband cut the cord and we were in love. I am a mother, we are officially a family!

Due to his bruising, he developed jaundice and had to be put under bili lights. I think it was more stressful for me than it was for him. I refused to supplement him because the one time I had given him a taste of formula, he became so sleepy he wouldn’t nurse and I panicked. I spent the next 72 hours alternating between nursing him and pumping every 1½ hours. I was exhausted, but I persevered and successfully nursed him until he weaned himself at one year old.

When Eric was about a year old, I felt like it was time to add to our family. In my faith, we believe that our families are eternal, that we existed in heaven before and will continue to exist as a family for all time and eternity. I felt as though we are meant to be a family of four; little did I know how long the journey would be to get there.

When we started out, my husband and I would joke around that we hoped it didn’t happen right away. Having a toddler and a newborn would be so much of a challenge. In my heart, I hoped it would happen immediately. I couldn’t wait to become a mother of two.

Month after month, nothing happened. I started to track my ovulation, no baby. We saw a doctor for bloodwork; it came back normal, so we kept trying, no baby. I took Clomid, no baby. I saw a fertility specialist and we started being more aggressive. I used injectable fertility drugs with intrauterine insemination, twice, no baby. This went on for months. Every night I would pray, “Please God, please bless us with another baby. Please don’t let my sweet boy grow up as an only child.”

I started with confidence, which turned into frustration, which turned into fear, which turned into hopelessness. What is wrong with me? What am I doing wrong? What am I going to do if this never happens? One night in the throes of desperation I prayed for something different. I prayed to be whole again. I prayed to accept things as they are. I prayed to be a good mother to my son -- I was so caught up with having another baby that it was affecting my ability to be a good mother. I prayed to be a good wife to my husband, who was suffering along with me as I was pushing him away to wallow in my sadness alone. I prayed to have the void in my heart to be filled.

I decided to get a second opinion from another fertility specialist. He went over my records and told me that all of the treatments I had done had been a waste of time and money. Due to my endometriosis, my hormone levels were not high enough to develop an egg that was of high enough quality to be fertilized. He reviewed the literature with me and with the extent of my endometriosis, he estimated my chances of natural conception at 1-2%. His recommendation was surgery to remove the endometrial lesions and to move on with further aggressive treatment. As an expert in his field and highly regarded I was glad to have someone give me a straight answer to my infertility issues, but actually hearing it was very difficult. He told me to talk it over with my husband and to call when I started my period to schedule the surgery.

Two weeks later, while I wondered why my period didn’t start, I decided half-heartedly to take a pregnancy test. When I picked it up and saw those two lines I almost passed out ... I was pregnant ... naturally!! I had saved a Father’s Day card in hopes I could use it to announce my pregnancy to my husband. It took me 10 minutes to find it since it was buried in the bottom of a drawer. With a trembling hand, I wrote out the card: “Dear Daddy, Happy Father’s Day! I can’t wait to meet you in May!” When my husband read it he looked up at me first with confusion, then the tears began to well up in his eyes. “You’re pregnant?” he said. “Yes, we are pregnant!” We picked up our young son and held each other in awe of this utter miracle.

Fast forward 8 months. I was 39 weeks, swollen, tired and ready to have a baby. I had been on modified bed rest since about 32 weeks due to preterm contractions, which hadn’t changed my cervix but may have caused trouble, especially since my job entails long hours of being on my feet, not to mention I that I am a nurse and somehow we seem to be cursed. Things rarely go as planned for us, especially in pregnancy.

I was a much more seasoned labor and delivery nurse now, and being a nurse, especially in this field, is both a blessing and a curse. I know all too well what can go wrong and I deal with it all the time. Pregnancy and birth, as I have learned time and time again, are NOT to be trusted; they are to be highly respected. There are so many variables to be considered, and while most of the time everything goes as planned, the alternative is tragic and heart-breaking. I knew in my soul that I could not carry this baby past my due date. I had nightmares that she would be stillborn and I felt like she would be better off on the outside.

I had a different OB this time, a friend of mine who I admired and trusted immensely. We both agreed that an elective induction at 39 weeks would be the plan. At my 38 week visit I was only 2 cm, thick, and -3 station, again not a great scenario for a vaginal birt,h but since I had done it before, we were both pretty confident it would work out. I honestly didn’t care if I delivered her vaginally or via c-section. All I wanted was for her to be safe and healthy, and I felt like that needed to happen soon.

My induction was scheduled for Wednesday night, May 11, 2011. As I was instructed, I called the L&D unit to make sure there was a bed for me since my induction was not medically indicated. It was just my luck that the unit was bursting with women in labor as well as sick antepartum patients. I was so disappointed but tried to stay relaxed. The next morning, after a completely sleepless night, I called again. Of course, more women had arrived in labor and it was not looking good to get in anytime soon. I messaged my friends at work, as they were all anxiously waiting for updates.

Since Eric wasn’t home, my mom and I decided to go up to my unit so I could say hello and give her a tour. I had been contracting since the night before, but since I had contracted fairly regularly during the last half of my pregnancy, I didn’t think much of it. Once we got there around 1 p.m., we walked around, and I showed her the rooms and all of the cool “bells and whistles” we had there. It really is a beautiful place. All the while I continued to contract, and they were starting to hurt a bit! I told my friends, jokingly, that maybe I was going into labor.

It was just at that time that a big thunderstorm rolled in. Although my OB did not have privileges at this hospital, I agreed to be evaluated because I knew there was no way I was going to drive 20+ miles in a severe thunderstorm to be checked, just to be sent home because I wasn’t in labor. One of the great physicians I worked with agreed to assume care of me while I was there. My nurse applied the fetal monitor, and again a wave of relief washed over me as I heard my baby girl’s swift heartbeat. I wasn’t really worried about her, as I could feel her regular movements, but a visual of a reactive non-stress test put what little worry I had to rest.

When my nurse/friend checked my cervix I was totally surprised: 5 centimeters, 70% effaced and -2 station ... I WAS in labor!! Making the phone call to my husband was actually quite amusing. He had decided to go into work while I waited to be admitted for my induction. To hear from me that I was in labor, not at the hospital where we planned to deliver, but at the unit where I worked, was not something he had planned for. I actually had to explain it to him more than once. Luckily, he worked just down the street so his drive in a South Texas downpour was short.

Once I was admitted, I called my OB’s office and let her know that I was in labor. I thought I was going to just leave a message with her nurse, when she answered the phone, “What is going on? Where are you?” When I told her, she was really disappointed to not be the one to deliver my baby, as was I, but as I knew well when you are having a baby, plans change. She insisted that I call her as soon as the baby was born so she knew everyone was ok; I agreed and smiled to myself, appreciating her sincere concern for me and my baby girl.

Although I was 5 centimeters, I was not in “active labor.” My contractions were somewhat irregular and not really strong. I opted for Pitocin augmentation. I was well aware of the risks and I trusted my caregivers implicitly. At 4 p.m., one of my favorite anesthesiologists came through my door to visit. He talked to me about my options and told me he would be available to me anytime. I opted to get the epidural before my water broke this time, as I had already experienced enough contraction pain with my first baby. He placed it without difficulty. Thankfully, the epidural was light and I was able to move around as I needed. I was also able to get a short nap, since it seemed like ages since I had been comfortable enough to actually sleep.

At 5:30 p.m., my wonderful substitute OB came to see me. I couldn’t have had a better replacement for my regular OB; she has expert skill, a warm heart, and was pregnant as well! I was still 5 centimeters and we both agreed that rupturing my membranes would get things moving since I had PLENTY of amniotic fluid to keep her head nice and cushioned on my cervix. My poor friend taking care of me got drenched when the doctor broke my water -- it was like someone had breached the Hoover Dam! It was clear and the baby continued to look great on the monitor. My OB sat at the nurses’ station and visited with the other nurses while she watched over me as I labored, which didn’t take long.

At 6:30, I began to feel that familiar pressure and pain. It came over me quickly again, just like it had with Eric. I turned onto my side and began to breathe deep and focus on staying relaxed. I was preparing for something I had waited so long for! When I started to feel like I had to push, I asked my husband to “push the button”. When no one arrived, I asked him again and still no one arrived. When I turned over and yelled, “I need to push! Push the button!” He said, “I did!” He was pushing the button on my epidural (that wasn’t working anyway.) I yelled again to push the call light, as I felt like the baby was going to come out any moment. My OB as well as a group of great friends came to my room immediately and were quickly ready to help me deliver my baby.

After pushing for less than 10 minutes, at 7:10 p.m., Emmeleia Ryan arrived pink and perfect. They laid her on my chest just as Eric had been and again I felt that comfortable feeling like I already knew her. She was so beautiful and I was so thankful that I had been blessed to add this new little spirit to our family. She was perfect in every way and I knew that she arrived just when she needed to ... we were now a family of four!

When Eric came to see his new baby sister, he was ecstatic! He hugged and kissed her just like he had always known her, which I knew he had. After all the heart ache and longing, I finally had my family, complete and whole. I finally had my heart, complete and whole. The birth of me as a mother was the most intense, scary, elating, fulfilling and by far the greatest blessing I have ever received. It is so much more than the event of their actual arrival. It is the journey of me as a daughter, a woman, a wife, and the evolution of me from within. It is so much more than what is encompassed inside me or the mechanism of my body, it is spirit and body coming together, it is life, and it is the greatest miracle of all.

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

Thank you for sharing your story of motherhood. It is beautifully told. I especially like the last two sentences. You combine the joy of bringing a new life to the world with the humility to acknowledge that you are only a part of a great miracle.

Anonymous said...

What a beautiful-written piece! Congratulations on your forever family!

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