The one where I need oxygen

Final installment of the 4-part birth story series (you can read the first three here, here) and here:

My fourth child was due on October 27, 2006, but somehow I just knew I would be having this baby earlier than expected. My mom was in standby mode in SC, waiting for the call to drive up to help out while I was in the hospital and for a few days after I came home. I called her on October 18th and told her that I thought it would be a good idea for her to come on up. She left on the 19th. That night she called to say that she was staying at a hotel for the night rather than driving through and would arrive the next morning. I had contractions on and off all night, but nothing regular.

The next morning, the contractions began getting more regular. My oldest daughter headed off to school, and at 7:30, I called my mom to find out how much longer she would be. She arrived at our house around 9:00 or so, which was a good thing, since about 15 minutes after she walked in the door, my water broke. Well, not so much broke as leaked a little, just like happened with my first child. So by 9:30, my husband and I were headed to the hospital.

[We interrupt this post for info regarding a previous post: I forgot to mention in the post about the birth of my second child about the two child doctors who came in to watch the birth, one male and one female. One of them even stitched up a little tear afterward. Apparently, I chose to give birth in a TEACHING hospital, which means that I consent to doctor wannabes practicing at being a doctor on ME. Really, I didn't care, since at that point random street people could have wandered through asking for a look-see and I would have said, "Sure, why not?" And now, back to our regularly scheduled post...]

When we arrived at the hospital, the nurses put me in a triage room to check if, indeed, the trickle I had felt was amniotic fluid. But before making that determination, a nurse checked my cervix. Then two child doctors arrived. (Apparently, they travel in pairs, specifically male-female pairs. This could be for breeding purposes; further study is needed to know for sure.) The female half of the duo checked my cervix. Then, the male half asked if he could as well. "Sure," I said, "join the crowd." Then they used this little strip of paper to see if the fluid that kept leaking out was amniotic, or if I was just peeing on them. It was amniotic. Really, now, you didn't think I would go around peeing on people, do you?

So I was moved into a labor room and given pitocin to get things moving. My regular doctor was not on shift, but would be in about a half hour, and then he would go off shift again at 4:30 in the afternoon. I was hoping he would be the one to deliver my baby. Eventually, the time came for the epidural. I requested Dr. M for my anesthesiologist if possible. You will remember him from the last birth story. Unfortunately, he was not there.

[Another aside: At a regular prenatal office visit, I had asked my doctor if I could request a particular anesthesiologist. He wasn't sure, but who did I have in mind? When I told him Dr. M., he looked at me askance and said in a surprised tone, "Dr. M? Really?"

"Why, is there something wrong with him?"

"Nooooo, he's just..."

"Grouchy?"

Laughing, "Yes."

"I don't care how miserable the guy is, he's good and I want him."

"He is good."]

I got another Dr. M. It was something Hispanic, I don't remember what, but his first name was Luis. Anyway, I told Luis about my small spinal spaces issue and my problems with getting epidurals in the past. He assured me (as did the nurses that were there) that he was just as good, if not better, than Dr. M. He was certainly friendlier. And he was telling the truth. He got the epidural in in one try. Of all my births, this was the most pleasant epidural insertion experience.

HOWEVER, it was not the most pleasant of epidural side effects. I had never before had an adverse reaction to an epidural. This time however, I started feeling lightheaded and nauseous like I was going to pass out and my blood pressure crashed. The nurses turned off the epidural and gave me oxygen until I felt better. So then I was okay for a while. I started to feel the contractions again and asked them to turn the epidural back on, which they did. Then I crashed again. So more oxygen and then the epidural was put on a VERY LOW setting.

A nurse decided that since I hadn't peed since triage, that she would straight cath me (you'll remember this from the last time, when that action resulted in freight-train baby). I informed them of the freight-train baby episode, and said that they might want to be prepared, just in case. And then one of the nurses said that she was there for that birth. I hadn't recognized her; she had lost a lot of weight! This time the catheter didn't result in immediate baby, but things did get rolling along. About ten minutes later, I said that I was feeling that familiar pressure. The nurse checked my cervix and said that I was fully dilated except for a tiny bit that didn't seem to want to get out of the way. She called in the doctor (who you'll recall would be off-shift at 4:30) at about 4:20. He checked my cervix, said, "Yeah, there's that little bit there, but she's crowning, I'll just push it out of the way." He did, and I pushed. Twice, I think. (By the fourth baby, I had the whole pushing thing down, and no it's nothing like pooping if you're doing it right, even though they say that it is.)


My fourth daughter arrived on October 20, 2006, just as the doctor's shift ended at 4:30pm (but he was nice enough to stick around for the after birth clean up stuff). She weighed 7lbs, 1oz, the smallest of all my babies. She didn't cry at first, which freaked me out, since I didn't remember any delay before the crying with the other ones. But then she did, as you can see in the picture. Very loudly.

Here I am with her just after she was born, still with the IV in and everything:



All our girls:

The one where I throw a bed pan

Part 3 of the 4-part birth story series (you can read the first two here and here):

My third child was due on December 18, 2002, but that day came and went with just some nightly contractions that subsided around 2:00am. Like in my second pregnancy, I had a couple nights of this, but finally, on December 19th, they did not subside. In anticipation of the birth, my mother had arrived on either the 18th or the 19th, at this point I don't recall exactly, but she was there to keep the other two when we went to the hospital. We arrived at the hospital around 4:00am, the morning of December 20th.

I wasn't quite dilated enough to move into a labor room, so the nurses had me walk the hallways for a while. It didn't take long, and we were ready to go. I had asked my OB/GYN several months previously if I could ask to NOT have a particular anesthesiologist (the one I had the last time). He had informed me that I didn't have to worry, as that one had retired. Instead I got one with an unconventional method of having the patient lie on her side in the fetal position rather than sitting up hunched over a pillow, as most of them do. He complained that I had extremely small spinal spaces, and he had a difficult time getting the epidural in. At one point, he got it in the wrong spot and caused my heart to race and me to get all lightheaded. He finally did get it in right (or at least he thought he did) and left.

A little while later, I noticed that while the contractions weren't horribly painful, I could still feel them and they WERE somewhat painful. So I asked a nurse about it, and she paged anesthesiology to have someone come and take a look. Dr. M, the chief anesthesiologist, or whatever you call the one in charge of the others, was on call at this point, so he came up. He was a very grumpy guy, obviously not thrilled about having to come correct someone's screw-up. He said to whoever (whomever?) was listening, "See how there's blood in the line, this shouldn't be there. It was put in wrong." I told him that the other anesthesiologist had said I had small spinal spaces, to which he replied, "Well, he was sure right about that." Despite his grouchiness, he was amazingly skilled, and it only took him one shot to get the epidural in properly.

When I had first arrived at the hospital, my OB/GYN that had delivered my second daughter had been on shift, but at this point another doctor had come on. I had seen her a couple of times in the office, and she had been the one to perform my D&C after a miscarriage that I had had the previous February. She was really nice and would have been my next choice anyway, so I was happy. She checked in when I was 6-7 cm dilated and told the nurses to give her a call when I had dilated more. My husband went to rest in the armchair that was about 15 feet from the labor and delivery bed, and immediately fell asleep.

Around 8:20 or so, one of the nurses decided that I needed to have my bladder emptied. She told me that she was going to straight cath (catheterize - if you don't know what it is, you don't want to, but at least you can't feel it when you have an epidural) me, and to let her know if I felt any pressure, because sometimes a full bladder is in the way, and once it's emptied things kick into gear.

She was OH SO RIGHT. Before she got back from emptying the bedpan that she had filled with my urine (aren't you all so glad to be reading this?), I yelled at her, "Pressure! A LOT of pressure!" She came running out of the bathroom, checked my cervix, yelled to another nurse, "She's crowning! Get Dr. J in here, STAT!" All this yelling, and my husband was snoring away, 15 feet from the commotion. So I was yelling at him to wake up, the nurse was yelling at him to wake up and telling me not to push, and he continued to be dead to the world. Finally I picked up a bedpan (empty, and PLASTIC, not metal), and flung it at him. He did wake up when it bounced off his head. Meanwhile, I forgot about his lazy ass, as another nurse and I had this conversation (at very high volume):

Nurse: Don't push!

Me: I HAVE TO PUSH!!!!!!!!!!!!

Nurse: Don't push!

Me (holding the rails and kind of flailing my head and shoulders around with the effort of NOT pushing): I HAVE TO PUSH!!!!!!!!!!!!

Nurse: Don't push!

Me (still flailing): I HAVE TO PUSH!!!!!!!!!!!!

Nurse: Don't push!

Me (pushing anyway): I HAVE TO PUSH!!!!!!!!!!!!

The doctor literally came skidding through the door on her little blue hospital booties as the baby's head emerged after only two pushes. One more push and my third daughter was born around 8:30am on December 20th. She had an Apgar score of 10 at the moment of birth and barely any cone head at all, due to her freight-train-like trip through the birth canal. She weighed exactly 8lbs. Now she's a tiny little thing, weighing in at only about 33lbs, even though she'll be five in ten days. But she still lives life like a freight train. See how red her nose is in the picture? It was a birthmark down the length of her nose (which faded after a few weeks). We called it her skid mark because of her speedy entrance into the world.



And because it's a much cuter picture than me with my pudgy pregnancy face:

The one with the little old man

Part 2 of the 4-part birth story series (you can read the first here):

My second child was due on January 6, 2001. Starting on January 4th, I experienced nightly contractions that would start around 11:00pm and continue until between 2:00 and 4:00am, when they would stop. So the night of January 6th, I was VERY ready to get this birth done. Our next-door neighbor's daughter invited my daughter over to spend the night, and my husband and I went out walking. Since it was icicle-hanging-from-your-nose freezing and my husband needed a few things from Staples, we did our walking there. I pushed the cart and would have to stop every little while and try not to moan when a contraction would hit. We went home in hopes they wouldn't stop and we could call the doctor. This time they didn't stop, and we went to the hospital around 4:00am.

After the doctor checked me and determined that I was dilated enough to put into a labor room, we got all settled into one. By that time, I had dilated more and the doctor made the comment that I dreaded to hear, "You might be moving along too fast to have time to get the epidural." To which I responded, "Get the anesthesiologist in here right now, I WANT that epidural." But you know, NICER than that. More like, "Please can we just try? Pleeeeaaaaassseee?" You must understand that I signed that "I want an epidural" paper the moment I discovered I was pregnant. Positive pregnancy test? Fax that epidural paper to me and I'll sign it and fax it back. I know I don't need it for a while, and that my first office visit isn't even for 6 weeks, but you can never be too prepared.

So anyway, about 10-20 minutes later, this little old stooped shuffling man, who must've been just shy of 90, walked in pushing the anesthesiologist's cart and supplies. I assumed that he was just dropping off the cart and the anesthesiologist would arrive in a minute or two but NOOOOOOOO. This little old man with one foot in the grave WAS the anesthesiologist.

I swear the old guy must've been half-blind and suffering from Parkinson's, because it took him no less than a dozen agonizing tries to get the epidural in properly. But he finally managed, which was the important thing.

Soon enough, it was time to deliver. But every contraction and push resulted in a drop in the baby's heart rate. The nurse was looking quite concerned, which of course made me concerned. The doctor began to explain to me that the umbilical cord was wrapped around the baby's neck, and that every time I pushed, it was restricting the blood flow to the baby's brain. So it was very important that we get the head out as quickly as possible, so that he could unwrap the umbilical cord from the baby's neck. So on the next push, I needed to try to push long enough and hard enough to get the head out. One, Two, Three... PUSH! I gave it everything I had, and got the baby's head out. The doctor got the cord off of the neck, and then one more push and there she was. My second daughter, born January 7, 2001, around 8:30am. She weighed 7 lbs, 5 oz.

The below picture is my oldest daughter holding her baby sister. I didn't have any decent ones of me in the hospital with her.

The one where the shoulder got stuck

Tessie requested birth stories. I said I'd deliver (Ha ha! Get it? Deliver? I crack me up.), so here is birth story number one.

My first child was due May 25, 1994. My water broke around 1:00am on May 22, 1994. Well, not so much broke as leaked a little. What I heard them call later a "high leak." But, the fortress had been breached, so into the hospital with me. First, though, a shower, because back then I didn't feel like I could function without a morning shower (yes, children had much to teach me). We arrived at the hospital around 2:00am. I had yet to feel a contraction, but according to a nice young man who strapped a monitor on me, I was having them every two and a half minutes.

I continued to not feel any contractions, so around 6:00am they gave me pitocin and went ahead and gave me an epidural so I wouldn't have to feel any contractions. Wasn't that nice of them? Well, my doctor couldn't get the needle in the spinal space because things were kind of swollen back there, so after two *very painful* tries, she called in the anesthesiologist who whipped it right in there, no problem.

Then a totally uneventful 11 hours or so. Lots of news on TV about Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis's death three days prior and funeral arrangements. Lots of various people coming in and out to check vitals and probe areas that prior to this day had been fairly private. My favorite was the nurse who came in and said, "Hi, I'm [whatever her name was] and I'm here to swab your vagina." By that point, of course, they could have been bringing in busloads of tourists with cameras requesting to photograph my nether regions and I would have spread 'em and said, "Knock yourself out."

Anyway, around 5:00pm or so, I started to feel fairly intense pressure. I sort of vaguely recalled someone saying something to me about feeling pressure and what I should do (which as it turns out, was TELL SOMEONE), but I couldn't remember what exactly she had said. So the next time someone came in to check me, I said, "Someone said something about feeling pressure, and I'm not sure what they said, but I'm feeling pressure." She checked my cervix and declared me ready to deliver. So the doctor came in and we started the whole push, stop, okay push thing. The head delivered, and then... the shoulders wouldn't. I wasn't really fully aware of the situation until later, but one of the delivery nurses (who happened to be a neighbor of mine - raise your hands anyone whose neighbors have seen your hoo-ha) grabbed a stool to stand on so she could push on my belly to help push the baby out. It didn't come to that, because the doctor was telling me to push REALLY hard, and since I figured the doctor knew what she was doing, I did, and the shoulder came free.

My first daughter was born around 6:00pm. I could tell you the exact time if I wasn't too lazy to go find something that lists that particular bit of data, but I am, and it really isn't necessary to the story. The story which is now over, except for the part where I tell you she was a BIG baby, 8lbs, 10oz, and you all cringe and squeeze your legs together.