M's Birth Story
It's 12:43am, and I should totally be sleeping. But B just went to bed, and I think the M will be up any moment ready to eat. So rather than wait for a wailing wake-up call, I think I'll just write about the events of the last few days.
I won't write about any of the labor details anywhere else because it's just not one of those "public" things that everyone wants to read. But, to my knowledge, only C still reads this diary; so I figure it's safe to spill all the gory details here. BUT beware to any "lurkers." This could get ugly. Especially if you haven't had children, or if you plan to have more, I suggest you don't read it. This is part of the reason I haven't told any of the nasty details - because I don't want to be one of those women who scares newly-pregnant girls with horror labor and delivery tales.
But...
There are a couple reasons I want to write all the details here, for my own personal and emotional needs. Firstly, I can hardly close my eyes at night without reliving some of the worst moments. The Lord has been gracious to protect me from nightmares during my daytime naps, but at night, they come on full force. I kind of wonder if it's anything like post-traumatic stress; though that sounds far too over dramatic. Still, I haven't fully described any of it to anybody, and I wonder if getting all the details out of my head and in solid writing will help my mind organize its thoughts and relax. I hope so.
Second, I want to remember that I made it through this. I want to remind myself, when something is really difficult, that I survived this "event" and received an amazing and beautiful blessing on the other end. Because how many times has the Lord spoken to me about ministry and my life in terms of labor and birth? How many times has He said He is "birthing" something in me, and that I am just in "transition"? I have such a clear and vivid understanding of those terms now, more than I ever have before. I want to remember how difficult this was because I want to remind myself in the future - when life seems unbearable or simply too difficult - that I can make it through and that there will be the promised blessing on the other side.
So, without further ado, M's birth story:
I arrived at the Korean hospital at 8:00am on Thursday, May 20. Despite having some labor symptoms a few weeks before, I had remained at 1cm for weeks with no further signs of labor.
The pitocin drip started at 8:30am, and contractions soon followed. The day was fairly uneventful, and though the contractions were coming on strong, I was still able to rest between them and (for the most part) distract myself with a good book. B slept and played PSP all day in my room, since it was his day off.
Everything seemed to be going much better than my first delivery. By 5pm, I was dilated to 5cm, and I requested my epidural. The doctor was worried about giving it to me because he said the pain would have "thickened" my spinal chord, making it difficult to find the right place.
But I did not plan on doing any of this au'naturale, so I asked to at least let the anesthesiologist try, even if it meant a few extra pokes in the back.
He came in a few minutes later, and the epidural went right in the first time. He didn't give me the full injection because they wanted to see how the baby would respond before they completely numbed me. I could still move my legs and feel the pressure (though not the pain) of the contractions.
But it didn't take long for me to realize something was wrong. Though I still had feeling in all my lower extremities, I couldn't feel any more contractions. The nurses checked on the fetal monitor, and sure enough, everything had completely stopped. The baby was fine, but there were ZERO contractions going on.
By this point it was 8pm. I was exhausted from a day in labor/pain, and the only English-speaking doctor was getting ready to go home. So we decided to just stop everything for the night and try again in the morning.
They turned off the epidural. They turned off the pitocin drip. They turned off the lights. And everyone left.
The contractions picked up a little while later, and I prayed all night that they would continue to increase so that I could "just get it over with."
I knew by this point that I would have to do this thing without pain meds (since regular narcotics make me sick), and I would have preferred for the pain to be "natural" rather than the more painful, drug-induced contractions.
Nothing doing. By 7am the next morning (Friday, May 21) I had not dilated past 6cm, which meant that the contractions I had been having all night were doing absolutely zip to progress the labor.
By 8am, the contractions were really painful and close together. I started feeling the need to "bear down;" so the nurse checked to see how far we had progressed. I was at 8.5cm, and M was making her way down. So I was instructed to start pushing.
I called B (who was about to go into a mandatory meeting at work), and he ran to the taxi stop. He was at the hospital before 9am, and I was already actively pushing.
So, up to this point, everything was progressing normally, as far as we could tell. It certainly was no walk in the park, and the pain - even at this stage - was worse than anything I have experienced before.
But then the nurse did something that she would repeat over and over for the following hour and a half. She pushed her hands up inside of me and sent shooting pain through my pelvis, down my legs, and up my back. I have never felt pain like that, and I didn't understand what she was doing. Every time a contraction would come, she would instruct me to push and then stick her hand up there. I kept yelling, "Why are you doing that?! I can't push when you do that!!!" And though she understood my question, she didn't know enough English to answer. She would simply say, "Helping baby. Helping baby."
What I didn't know until after the delivery was that M was face-up (the wrong position for a safe birth), and the back of her head was lodged/stuck behind my pelvic bone. The nurse was reaching inside to lift her head over my pelvic bone while I pushed so that her head and/or neck would not get damaged or broken while I tried to push her out.
This phase lasted for for two hours (from 8:30am to 10:25am). Those two hours are what replay in my mind when I close my eyes at night. I kept screaming, "Why are you doing this?! I can't push when you do that!" At one point, I even reached down and jerked her arm out and screamed, "YOU CAN'T DO THAT!" I don't know how to describe it other than to say it felt like rape. I didn't understand what she was doing, and I couldn't get her to understand that - if I had just been left alone - I could push more productively. Now I know that she was probably saving the baby's life, but at the time, it was all a nightmare-ish blur of pain and confusion.
Finally, around 10am, the head moved over the pelvic bone. One contraction later, and M was crowning. I don't think they expected that to happen so quickly, because they pushed away the wheelchair and had me walk to the labor/delivery room (I guess so that I wouldn't sit on her head). I had two contractions in the hallway, and poor B had to stand behind me and hold me up while I squatted during them. The nurses were yelling at each other and yelling at me, "DON'T PUSH! DON'T PUSH!"
Finally, I made it onto the delivery table, and the doctor (who speaks English, THANK GOD) walked in.
I pushed for another twenty minutes, to no avail. Even though she was right there, crowning, ready to come out, something was still stuck.
The last few minutes right before the delivery I really don't remember. I don't remember pushing. I just remember a lot of activity, a lot of pain, a lot of burning, and the overwhelming sense of relief when she finally came out. I kind of wonder if I even blacked out a little because I don't remember much of anything that happened during those few minutes.
Afterwards, I asked B what happened there at the end, and he just lowered his head and said, "It was violent."
Apparently, I had two nurses on either side of me, each with one hand holding my leg up and the other hand pushing on my sides. A third nurse sat ON TOP OF ME on the table doing a Heimlich-like maneuver on my abdomen. The doctor did a small incision (episiotomy) and started using the suction thingy because he thought the baby's head was stuck. Turns out, it wasn't her head. It was her shoulders stuck on my pelvic bone (where the head had been stuck before). So he cut again - this time, all. the. way. back.
He then reached both hands inside of me and pulled her out by her shoulders. M was blue/purple from head to toe, and she wasn't crying. But it only took a few seconds for them to get her worked up to a good wail as daddy looked on. I was, of course, in love when I first saw her. But I was also shocked by her appearance. CJ was so rosy and pink when she was born. M, in contrast, was swollen and bluish tinged (even half and hour or so after delivery). She also had scratches, bruises, and rings all over her head from where they had pushed, pulled, sucked, and prodded to get her out.
Almost immediately after the post-delivery stuff (stitches, etc.) I apologized to the doctor for screaming so much. I never thought I would be a screamer, as I had only made a few low moaning noises during the worst parts of the labor with CJ. This time, I felt I had completely no control, like the pain had just taken over.
The doctor told me that he completely understood. That's when he explained to me that she had been face-up and that everything was getting wedged behind my pelvic bone. He said, "Normally, in this situation, I would have done an emergency c-section, but I knew that you really didn't want one; so we went ahead with the delivery."
While I sincerely appreciate his adherence to my request, I think perhaps a c-section would have been the better (and safer) route.
I may change my mind between now and the next baby, but I really think that the day I find out I am preggo with my next one, I will schedule a c-section.
I am a large person, with big hips. But it's all fat - not space. Both babies have had problems coming down the birth canal, particularly through my pelvic area. With both deliveries, both babies were turned the wrong way, which may imply that my uterus is not tilted correctly for a "proper" delivery. This is a trait that many of the women in my mom's family have; so perhaps it's hereditary? Also, both of them have been very long labors (37 hours for the first, 26 hours for the second) where the baby's life was in danger in the end. Both babies were born low on oxygen and "in fetal distress."
Also, since the epidural put a dead-stop on my labor this time, doctors will be reluctant to give me any meds in future delivery(ies).
So, all that to say, for the safety of myself and the baby(ies) (and for the well-being of the delivery nurses), this will be my last delivery. From now on, I'm doing a c-section.
As for now, I am just doing my best to rest and recuperate. On the physical side of things, this part is much more difficult than it was with CJ. Like I said, I am cut all the way back; so doing simple things like sitting up straight or going to the bathroom are excruciatingly painful. Luckily, we were given a hand-me-down couch when we arrived in Korea, and one end of the couch sinks down A LOT when someone sits in it. This is the one spot in the whole house that I can comfortably sit; so it is where I have spent a majority of my time over the past two days. I cannot sleep in a bed because of the pressure it puts on my pelvic area (regardless of position). Here again, the old sunken-in couch has been my salvation! I'm also still losing a lot of blood; so I have to be careful when doing things like getting up or taking a shower. If I stand too quickly or turn the water too hot in the shower, the room starts to spin around me. Hopefully, that part will end in the next day or so.
On the emotional side, I am LOVING having my two girls at home. CJ is totally in love with her little sister, and she is great at doing things like bringing me diapers or burp cloths when I need them. Even though I am physically exhausted, I even love the mid-night feedings and cuddling with my new little one. I remember being so emotionally overwhelmed after CJ's birth, but this one has been so very different. I feel capable and confident, but primarily I feel content. Like a piece of the puzzle (the one that has always been missing) has finally been put into place.
So even though I NEVER plan to experience another delivery, this one was so very much worth every bit.
Life is good in our little home, and I wouldn't trade a thing.