I'm writing a separate post about my high risk pregnancy, since that's a long story itself. But after Allie was born, I wrote out her birth story and I hadn't really shared it with many people, so I'd like to share that here.
Sunday, October 31st
It began on my birthday. Justin and I woke up and decided to go to the Farmer's Market down the road, buy pumpkins and carve them for Halloween, then celebrate my birthday in the evening with a quiet dinner. Anyone who knows me well knows that "quiet" is usually not part of the vocabulary when I talk about celebrating my birthday. Typically I go all out with a costume party of some kind, then we'd have our annual Halloween party/bar crawl at the newspaper, and sometimes my friends and I would even trick-or-treat. My birthday has always been a big deal for me. I'd already tried to convince Justin that trick-or-treating would be okay, even though I was on bed rest. He told me if I called my high risk maternal fetal doctor and got his permission, then we could go.
So . . . pumpkin carving it was.
Right after I got out of the shower, I started feeling weird pains. It started out in my side and shot across my abdomen to my other side and through my back. After about a half hour of me curled up on the floor in intense non-stop pain, we decided we should probably go to the hospital.
I don't totally remember the ride to the hospital, but Justin told me I had my back arched the entire time and my head pushed back into the seat. I just remember thinking it had never taken that long to get to St. Francis Eastside before.
We walked in entrance B of the hospital (well, Justin walked. I staggered.) and the lady at the front desk took one look at me, stood up, and rolled a wheelchair over to us. Justin wheeled me up to 4th Floor Labor and Delivery to the nurses' station where they gave us a paper to fill out. It seemed like it took over an hour to get that stupid form filled out, but in reality it probably took less than five minutes. Our nurse, Susan, finally took us to a room, where she had to go through even more paperwork with us.
Susan was so so kind to me, but so so firm.
Susan: "On a scale of 0 to 10, with 10 being the highest level of pain you've ever experienced and 0 being no pain at all, what would you say your pain level is?"
Me: "If I say 10, can you give me something to make this pain stop?"
Susan, ignoring my question and writing on her clipboard: "OK, so a 10. What is your due date?"
Me: "I don't remember."
Justin: "She's due November 29th."
Susan: "How far apart have your contractions been? Have you had any bleeding or spotting? Did you feel your water break?"
Me: "Really close together, like less than a second apart. I don't think I've had bleeding, but I haven't checked. I don't know what it feels like if my water broke. It probably did, because I think I'm about to give birth. Can we skip this part?"
Susan kindly, but very firmly and no-nonsense-ly, told me that she was required to go through all this paperwork and she was skipping the parts she could. Then she said, "You probably think I'm the meanest person right now, don't you?" And I very tactfully told her, "Yes I do, actually." She told me to focus on something other than the intense pain that was now radiating throughout my entire body and to pattern my breathing.
Susan hooked me up to the machine that monitored my contractions and how Allie was handling them and checked to see how dilated I was. I swore I was at least 500 cm dilated. She informed me that I was barely even 1 cm dilated and no, my water had not broken.
I asked her if she could perform an emergency c-section right there and even gave her my permission to cut Allie out with a butter knife if that would help the pain stop.
Her excuse: "You know honey, I would totally do that, except I don't have a butter knife with me right now."
The final verdict was -- I was not ready to go into labor. The pain was being caused by contractions, which in turn was making my uterus spasm, and it was actually the spasms that were causing all the pain, and not so much the contractions. Susan gave me a shot for the pain and a shot to stop the spasms.
After spending most of the day in the hospital, we headed home and didn't carve pumpkins or trick-or-treat. I'm pretty sure I slept the rest of the day from the shots.
Monday, November 1st
Justin and I went to my weekly checkup with my maternal fetal medicine doctor, Dr. Grieg. I was 35 weeks and 6 days pregnant. After the usual ultrasound and heart rate monitoring, Dr. Grieg came in and said it was time to schedule my c-section.
He and my regular OB had previously told me I would need to have a c-section because Allie had been breech for almost the entire pregnancy, and with the low amniotic fluid, it would be too dangerous to try and turn her. The low fluid was also why I would need an early delivery, because as Allie grew bigger, the chances of complications cropping up from the low fluid increased.
Dr. Grieg told me that one of my OBs, Dr. Dach, would give me a call and schedule a time that week for my surgery. I told him that Thursday would probably work out the best, since Biggest Loser was on Tuesday night and America's Next Top Model and Law & Order: SVU were on Wednesday night. He chuckled and said he'd see what he could do. Justin reminded me we would have a TV in the room at the hospital.
Dr. Grieg sent me over to St. Francis for a steroid shot, which would help Allie's lungs develop further since she would be born four weeks early and the lungs are the last things to develop.
The nurse at the hospital, who looked exactly like Phoebe on Friends, hooked me up to the machine.
"Hmmm. Did you know you're contracting about every minute?"
"Um, not really."
"Yep, you are. Also, your baby's heart rate is over 100."
"Oh, that's weird. They just checked her heart rate less than an hour ago over at Maternal Fetal and she was fine."
So what was supposed to be a quick get-the-steroid-shot-and-then-leave visit turned into an over three-hour stay where they hooked me up to an IV because I was dehydrated, monitored my contractions, and waited for Allie's heart rate to come down.
During that time, Dr. Dach called and scheduled my c-section for Wednesday morning. Dr. Grieg stopped in to see me when he came to the hospital to make his rounds. "What in the world did you do between my office and here?" he joked.
They eventually were able to lower Allie's heart rate, finished hydrating me, gave me the steroid shot, and sent me home.
Fast forward to about 7:30 that evening. Justin and I had made our phone calls to update our families and such about the news and we were at the grocery store stocking up on some last minute items. As we were pulling out of the parking lot, Dr. Dach called and informed me she'd had a cancellation the next day and she would like to bump up my surgery to Tuesday morning instead of Wednesday.
I turned to Justin: "So would you like to have a baby tomorrow?"
Justin: "Sure, why not."
Me to Dr. Dach: "OK, we're in."
Dr. Dach, laughing: "That was great. It's like you were discussing the weather or what to have for dinner."
More phone calls were made and we were up until around midnight, rushing to get everything done that we had originally planned to do the next day. Justin suggested it might be a good idea to pack my hospital bag.
Tuesday, November 2nd
We woke up around 5 a.m. A lot of people had told me to get a good night's sleep that night, but I didn't because 1) I was too excited, and 2) we were rushing around like chickens with our heads cut off, trying to get everything done that we'd planned to do Tuesday before my surgery got moved up a day.
We stopped at Wal-mart on the way, and arrived at St. Francis around 8 a.m. My c-section was scheduled for 10 a.m. This time, I walked by myself up to 4th Floor and my pain level was 0!
I was happy that my now-favorite nurse Susan was working that day and would be prepping me for surgery. Justin's mom and sister showed up and hung out with us for a bit. Dr. Rhodes, my other OB, stopped by my room to see how I was doing and to tell me that she would be doing my c-section since Dr. Dach was tied up in another surgery. That was totally fine with me, and I thought it was actually pretty cool, since Dr. Rhodes was the doctor who'd originally discovered I was pregnant back in March.
At 9:30, Susan wheeled my gurney to the operating room. She instructed Justin to don a pair of scrubs and then wait outside the operating room while they got me ready. I later found out that he was out there watching The Cosby Show and completely missed when they gave him the OK to come into the operating room, which is why they started without him there.
I felt a freezing cold blast of air as I was wheeled into the operating room. I glanced around and saw Dr. Rhodes and several other nurses buzzing around. The anesthesiologist explained about the spinal tap and what would be happening during the c-section, as well as some possible side effects. They put some kind of monitor device thingy on my finger and oxygen tube things up my nostrils
One of the nurses told me I had pretty teeth. Another nurse told me I had pretty hair as she tried to stuff my thick ponytail into a blue hospital cap.
It's a little fuzzy in my memory exactly what all happened at that point, because I was starting to panic. Susan held onto me as the anesthesiologist put the most gigantic needle I had ever seen into my back, and I was amazed at how quickly that stuff worked. And how much trouble I was having sitting up by myself.
They laid me down and the anesthesiologist told me he was going to test the spinal tap and to let him know when I felt that the cotton swab he was rubbing on me was cold. Apparently, the senses your body uses to detect pain are the same senses it uses to detect heat/cold, so this is how they determine if the spinal tap is working effectively.
Then a lot of things all seemed to happen at once. They put the veil up right in front of my face. I became very aware that I couldn't move anything below my sternum. I looked around and couldn't find Justin (because he was outside watching The Cosby Show, remember?).
Then I felt Dr. Rhodes start to cut me open. I didn't feel any pain; I could just feel that I was being cut open. It's hard to explain and a very surreal, weird, freaky feeling.
I got extremely claustrophobic and started having a full-blown panic attack. I opened my mouth to ask when Justin would be allowed in the room, but for some reason, no sound would come out. I felt like I was going to throw up. Thankfully one of the nurses brought him into the room at that moment.
I started crying when I saw him. Well, more like sobbing uncontrollably and beginning to hyperventilate. He tried to comfort me but I panicked even more.
Susan's head popped around the veil: "Hey, so what are you going to name your baby?"
Justin: "Allison."
Me: "What? Nuh-uh. We're naming her Alexandra, remember?"
Justin: "Wait, are you sure?"
Me: "Yes. Babe, we've had Alexandra picked out for a long time now."
Justin, grinning: "I know, but it made you forget that you were freaking out."
Me: "Oh yeah."
Plus, they'd given me some medicine to calm me down and to help with the nausea, so that helped immensely.
After what seemed like hours of Dr. Rhodes shifting my organs around inside my body, all of which I could feel (I said at one point, "Hey, I think she's touching my uterus!"), it was time to get Allie out. The anesthesiologist offered to take pictures for us.
Then I felt a lot of tugging . . . and tugging . . . and more tugging.
"Girl, you have some seriously tight abs here," Dr. Rhodes said.
I don't know how, considering I'd been on bed rest for the last 4 1/2 months of my pregnancy. Dr. Rhodes ended up having to make the incision bigger because Allie's head was stuck in my abs and she needed to dislodge her.
I teared up when I heard my daughter's first cry. And then wondered why I couldn't hear her anymore. Apparently, she'd let out one cry, then took a giant breath, puckered up her face, and held her breath.
Definitely my kid. Stubborn.
Dr. Rhodes brought Allie around the veil, and I got to see her for the first time. She was all covered in uterus goop, her face pinched up because she was holding her breath, and a head full of black hair. She was the most beautiful, adorable, perfect little baby I had ever seen.
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Interestingly enough, my first thought was: "She doesn't look anything like her ultrasound pictures." To which Justin replied, "You mean the ones where she looks like a tiny little alien?"
Keep in mind I was still being pumped with drugs to calm me down and help my nausea and lightheaded-ness.
The nurses took Allie over to the french fry warmer and cleaned her up and measured her and weighed her and such while Dr. Rhodes sewed me back up. Justin went with them. Allie weighed 6 lbs, 9 oz, and was 18 1/2 inches long.
Justin came back around the veil holding our precious little newborn. I was so overwhelmed with love my heart threatened to burst.
At one point, one of the nurses told me that I was going to go from the gurney I was on to a regular hospital bed. "I hope you don't expect me to help you out with that," I said, as my entire lower half was still 100% numb.
It seemed like only a few minutes before I could hold her, but in reality it was actually about 45 minutes or so. Apparently they were having trouble getting my bleeding to stop.
My entire world changed when Justin placed that precious little bundle in my arms. I'll never forget the first time I cuddled my little angel close, breathed in her smell, and kissed her little cheek.
They finally brought us to our mother/infant room, which also served as our recovery room. No one except Justin was allowed in for the first hour or so because they were still trying to get a handle on my bleeding. So Allie got a little more time under the french fry warmer.
She would not let go of my finger.
The nurse finally got my bleeding under control, and after that it seemed that a steady stream of people were in and out of the room the rest of the day. Allie's pediatrician. My doctor. Nurses to check on my incision. Nurses to check on Allie. The anesthesiologist to see if I was having any side effects from the spinal tap. Lactation consultants to help with breastfeeding. My in-laws. My coworkers from The Greenville News. My good friend Anna who had supported me from the beginning of my pregnancy.
A few other friends who knew I was pregnant stopped by over the duration of my hospital stay, including Roshena and her seven-week-old baby Beckham.
I was so exhausted I couldn't even think straight, but it was a happy exhaustion. Like the kind of giddy exhaustion that sort of drives you to insanity. At one point, I even glanced over at Allie and very loudly announced to everyone in the room, "Guys, look! I have a baby!"
But finally, the exhaustion won out and Allie and I both drifted off to sleep.
The following three days in the hospital were an intense mixture of love, excitement, fear, pain, happiness, sadness, responsibility, joy, frustration, as I learned how to be a parent while simultaneously healing from the major surgery that is a c-section.
For some reason, I hadn't thought of a c-section as major surgery, until my nurse came in at 6 a.m. the following morning, unhooked my legs from the compressors, and told me it was time to try to walk.
Let me tell you, the pain from a c-section is no joke. It took me at least five minutes to get out of bed just to get up and use the bathroom, and every time the nurse came to check my incision, I wanted to scream and cry out in pain. Any time I wanted to hold Allie, someone had to get her out of the bassinet and place her in my arms, because I couldn't lean over to pick her up myself. At the end of every four (or six?) hours, as my pain meds were wearing off, I fought back tears until the nurse came back in with another dose of pain meds.
But it's true -- all that pain of childbirth was overshadowed by the love and joy of my baby. Every time I looked down at her sweet face, or breathed in her newborn smell, or kissed her soft squishy cheeks, or gently placed my finger in her palm and felt her tiny hands wrap around my finger, my heart swelled all over again and my mind was no longer on how much pain I was in. All I could feel was love.
One of my favorite times was during the early morning hours, when I pumped and fed her a bottle (she never learned to latch on). I remember the first time she opened her eyes and looked at me -- I mean really looked at me -- and we just spent about five minutes staring at each other and memorizing every detail of each other's face.
And then her milk coma would set in, she'd yawn her adorable little yawn, and drift back to sleep.
I was very blessed that I was able to carry Allie until 36 weeks to the day before she had to be born. For 16 weeks, we took it one week at a time, with both my doctors consulting every week and deciding my womb was safe for her for another week. God protected her, and he protected me.
Allie turned four at the beginning of this month, and she's as spunky, sassy, sweet, and smart as ever. As I wrote this post, I looked back through the pictures of when she was born and compared them to pictures of her now. It's so hard to believe that my little teeny tiny newborn has developed into this beautiful, tenderhearted, brilliant little lady. I thank God every day for lending her to me, and I couldn't be happier that He chose me to be her mom.
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