I will begin with Friday, September 28th 2012. I was at work, and The Tater Tot was very active. So active, that I kept calling over my co-worker to watch my belly... he was moving so much, you could see my whole belly shudder and shake. It was a fun day and I felt very connected to The Tot. Outside of the movement, nothing strange seemed to be going on.
So, we move to Saturday... again, nothing major most of the day until the late afternoon when something odd did happen. I had been reading about all of the signs of labor and the week before our Lamaze teacher discussed the mucus plug and bloody show and contractions (sorry TMI, just wait more TMI on the way). So, when it appeared as if I lost my mucus plug, I was concerned and called my doctor. I was only 33 weeks, and was pretty sure that loosing the plug that early was not good. When I talked to my doctor, she said not to worry. I look back now, and I am pretty sure she didn't believe me. I believe she thought it was just general mucus and not the actual plug. I knew differently, but I listened to her and assumed that it didn't mean anything.
Sunday, September 30th: The Husband and I had plans to watch football and baseball downtown with some dear friends that we hadn't seen since the beginning of the summer. We were both excited to get out of the house and be social. We had a lot of prep work to do for the Tot's arrival, but figured we had a least 5 to 6 more weeks, so there was no worry and no hurry.
We had a great time... I indulged in fried pickles and a huge brownie sundae for lunch. We were both tired so we left and headed home. I remember the cab ride being especially uncomfortable and asking repeatedly for the driver to slow down.
I was still concerned about the mucus plug and became very concerned on Sunday early evening when I was sure I had witnessed a bloody show. Both The Husband and I thought it would be a much bigger show and as he commented, it was less of a Show and more like community theater. So, the second call went out to the doctor, who finally took me seriously and said I should head to the hospital.
After a bit of discussion and a role reversal for my husband and I, we sat down to eat a bit of dinner. We figured it would be a long night at the hospital and in fact, oddly, the husband thought we shouldn't go at all and wait until the morning. I think he was in shock and couldn't quite comprehend that having blood at 33 weeks was a bad sign, and we had to get to the hospital fast. But I was hungry, so I ate some soup, and then MY WATER BROKE, and then we started to move fast. That hour was so strange... I knew something was terribly wrong, but I think I was in shock and didn't want to panic my husband. But we should have moved MUCH quicker than we did.
After my water broke, things obviously got serious! Again, many of you would say that we had reason to be serious about an hour before, but we were in a bit of a fog I think. We quickly started to pack bags, we had not yet done that, since we had weeks yet, and quite frankly, that was next weeks Lamaze class agenda, packing the hospital bag.
We were relatively calm as we walked to Broadway to catch a cab. I didn't want a prospective cab driver to pass us by thinking I was in labor! We finally got in a cab and that's when the fun began. A contraction began, and well, it pretty much continued until the baby came 2 hours later. Again, another bad sign.
Once we got to St Lukes / Roosevelt Hospital, we went up to the Labor and Delivery floor. Nobody seemed to take me seriously. I don't think they understood that I was 33 WEEKS and my water broke, even though that was my mantra and all I kept saying to them. They had me fill out paperwork. Seriously, a lot of paperwork. Which I did, somehow. Then they finally took me back and they wouldn't let The Husband come, and the shit hit the fan. I promised him that he would be back there in two minutes. It is always strange, but the hospital did this anytime I went there. They take you back by yourself, ask if you have ever been abused by the man waiting outside and when you say no, they let him back. Whatever...
So once I was back in the Labor Triage area they hooked me up to monitors and again, seemed very nonplussed. The Husband and I were completely freaked out by now. Once the contractions began in the cab, we knew we were in trouble and the fog lifted. But now everyone else seemed to be in a fog. My doctor was called, but it would take her a while to arrive, so they decided to give me drugs to slow down labor. I was only 2 cm dilated, and by now the contraction was excruciating and unlike I had learned in Lamaze class, this was just one big contraction that didn't take a break.
So, by this time, the doctor on call came to see me and basically said that they were going to monitor me and wait for my doctor to arrive. They had given me drugs to slow down the labor, and they were going to leave me there, with The Husband in the triage area until the doctor arrived. The look of shock and horror on The Husbands face will always stick with me. They were just going to leave me like this, screaming in pain? Nothing about this seemed normal. This was not a normal delivery where I would wander the floors waiting for the baby to come and 22 hours later he would arrive. He was coming now and we knew it.
The Husband asked the doctor to take one last look before she left AND low and behold, they finally took us seriously. In the 15 minutes that we had been in triage, I had gone from 2 cm dilated to 10 cm. IN 15 MINUTES. Thus the screaming and pain. The look on that doctors face will also stick with me. Panic.
Within seconds they had lifted up the bars on the bed and were rolling/running me down the hall to a delivery room... totally like the movies. The pain in my body and my head was like black and red swirls... I was screaming while numerous nurses ran down the hall with me, The Husband holding the side of the bed. I kept grabbing the side of the bed and reaching for my husband, and the nurses kept yelling to keep my hands in the bed. So I started yelling back, for unknown reasons to me now... "keep your hands and feet inside the ride, keep your hands and feet inside the ride!" Nuts, I know, but it did feel like I was on some sort of morbid roller-coaster ride.
The Husband always describes once we got into the Labor room, since I don't have clear memories. He says that from the time we left triage to the labor room its like there was a secret code sent out to the hospital. Where once there was a calm Sunday evening staff, now we had 30 nurses, doctors, NICU nurses and everyone magically in surgical attire. My doctor walked in the room just after the on call doctor was suited up and ready to "catch", so she stood by my side and orchestrated and held my hand.
Apparently we were ready to go, so they asked if I knew how to push. What? NO! I had no idea how to push. We had not gotten to that class yet in Lamaze. We had discussed it, but we hadn't practiced it yet. So, after a quick instruction they said go. And oh my god, I thought I was dying. I turned to my doctor with tears in my eyes and said "no, I didn't want to do this" I told her she had to make it stop. There was something wrong with the baby, and he wasn't supposed to come out yet, I had 6 more weeks and I wasn't ready, and she had to make it stop. I said all of this while crushing her very small shoulder. She gave me a weak smile and said I had no choice, I had to help the baby out.
The next few minutes I was inside my head... I didn't feel like I was in the same room, but somewhere inside myself. I remember being afraid. Afraid the baby was going to die, afraid I was going to die. With those thoughts, I pushed. The Husband says that at one point I got very calm and focused, and then I pushed and our wonderful little Tot entered the world.
I had always pictured this moment, planned it out. I wanted to hold him immediately, I wanted to bond, I wanted to smile, I wanted to breast-feed, I wanted to share this with The Husband... our little pack growing with this new baby. But that isn't what happened. The Tot was born at 33 weeks, so they whisked him away to the corner of the room, nurses running, machines beeping, and then I heard The Husband insist that we see him and hold him. My dear sweet traumatized husband. They all stopped what they were doing, and with caution in their eyes, they held my little spud on my chest so I could see him, then they lifted him up to The Husband and he could touch him, and then they took him away.
Now, you can stop reading if you want... this may be too much for some, but hell, I'm sharing, so here we go.
So, now, I'm laying on the delivery room bed and we are waiting. I finally ask... "how long until the placenta comes out" and the doctors tell me... just a few more minutes. It was quiet... they were quiet... I was exhausted, and we waited, for a LONG TIME, but the placenta didn't come. Finally I catch the doctors giving each other worried looks and then I know we are in trouble. They explained that too much time had passed and the placenta wasn't coming out, and they needed to manually extract it.
Stop reading now, seriously.
I'm gonna write this out quickly and will probably not edit... since I don't want to relive it more than once. So, they give me morphine. We wait. And then they tell me that this is going to hurt. And then the doctor reached inside and manually, with her hand, ripped out my placenta which was stuck to the uterine wall. I wanted to die. I wished death. I never want to feel that again and it makes me cry to remember it. I bled a lot and then I finally fell asleep, because that is all I remember until I was in a recovery room hours later. The end to that part....
So, we had to wait until the morphine wore off before I could see my son, who was in an isolete, waiting for me. When I finally could, I waddled down the hall in a hospital gown and socks until they finally let me and my husband see him. Luckily they let me pick him up immediately and in my morphine induced state, I cried for my little Tot, I cried for me and then I started the long trek up a hill that I never anticipated.
It was a long climb up. But we had a beautiful baby, who was healthy and just needed a bit more time to grow. 17 days in the NICU and then he came home. It was not easy, but he is amazing that little Tot and now he is 2 years old.
I needed to get this story out before the Firefly arrives. It scares me to write it out, but I needed to... thanks for reading.
We were relatively calm as we walked to Broadway to catch a cab. I didn't want a prospective cab driver to pass us by thinking I was in labor! We finally got in a cab and that's when the fun began. A contraction began, and well, it pretty much continued until the baby came 2 hours later. Again, another bad sign.
Once we got to St Lukes / Roosevelt Hospital, we went up to the Labor and Delivery floor. Nobody seemed to take me seriously. I don't think they understood that I was 33 WEEKS and my water broke, even though that was my mantra and all I kept saying to them. They had me fill out paperwork. Seriously, a lot of paperwork. Which I did, somehow. Then they finally took me back and they wouldn't let The Husband come, and the shit hit the fan. I promised him that he would be back there in two minutes. It is always strange, but the hospital did this anytime I went there. They take you back by yourself, ask if you have ever been abused by the man waiting outside and when you say no, they let him back. Whatever...
So once I was back in the Labor Triage area they hooked me up to monitors and again, seemed very nonplussed. The Husband and I were completely freaked out by now. Once the contractions began in the cab, we knew we were in trouble and the fog lifted. But now everyone else seemed to be in a fog. My doctor was called, but it would take her a while to arrive, so they decided to give me drugs to slow down labor. I was only 2 cm dilated, and by now the contraction was excruciating and unlike I had learned in Lamaze class, this was just one big contraction that didn't take a break.
So, by this time, the doctor on call came to see me and basically said that they were going to monitor me and wait for my doctor to arrive. They had given me drugs to slow down the labor, and they were going to leave me there, with The Husband in the triage area until the doctor arrived. The look of shock and horror on The Husbands face will always stick with me. They were just going to leave me like this, screaming in pain? Nothing about this seemed normal. This was not a normal delivery where I would wander the floors waiting for the baby to come and 22 hours later he would arrive. He was coming now and we knew it.
The Husband asked the doctor to take one last look before she left AND low and behold, they finally took us seriously. In the 15 minutes that we had been in triage, I had gone from 2 cm dilated to 10 cm. IN 15 MINUTES. Thus the screaming and pain. The look on that doctors face will also stick with me. Panic.
Within seconds they had lifted up the bars on the bed and were rolling/running me down the hall to a delivery room... totally like the movies. The pain in my body and my head was like black and red swirls... I was screaming while numerous nurses ran down the hall with me, The Husband holding the side of the bed. I kept grabbing the side of the bed and reaching for my husband, and the nurses kept yelling to keep my hands in the bed. So I started yelling back, for unknown reasons to me now... "keep your hands and feet inside the ride, keep your hands and feet inside the ride!" Nuts, I know, but it did feel like I was on some sort of morbid roller-coaster ride.
The Husband always describes once we got into the Labor room, since I don't have clear memories. He says that from the time we left triage to the labor room its like there was a secret code sent out to the hospital. Where once there was a calm Sunday evening staff, now we had 30 nurses, doctors, NICU nurses and everyone magically in surgical attire. My doctor walked in the room just after the on call doctor was suited up and ready to "catch", so she stood by my side and orchestrated and held my hand.
Apparently we were ready to go, so they asked if I knew how to push. What? NO! I had no idea how to push. We had not gotten to that class yet in Lamaze. We had discussed it, but we hadn't practiced it yet. So, after a quick instruction they said go. And oh my god, I thought I was dying. I turned to my doctor with tears in my eyes and said "no, I didn't want to do this" I told her she had to make it stop. There was something wrong with the baby, and he wasn't supposed to come out yet, I had 6 more weeks and I wasn't ready, and she had to make it stop. I said all of this while crushing her very small shoulder. She gave me a weak smile and said I had no choice, I had to help the baby out.
The next few minutes I was inside my head... I didn't feel like I was in the same room, but somewhere inside myself. I remember being afraid. Afraid the baby was going to die, afraid I was going to die. With those thoughts, I pushed. The Husband says that at one point I got very calm and focused, and then I pushed and our wonderful little Tot entered the world.
I had always pictured this moment, planned it out. I wanted to hold him immediately, I wanted to bond, I wanted to smile, I wanted to breast-feed, I wanted to share this with The Husband... our little pack growing with this new baby. But that isn't what happened. The Tot was born at 33 weeks, so they whisked him away to the corner of the room, nurses running, machines beeping, and then I heard The Husband insist that we see him and hold him. My dear sweet traumatized husband. They all stopped what they were doing, and with caution in their eyes, they held my little spud on my chest so I could see him, then they lifted him up to The Husband and he could touch him, and then they took him away.
Now, you can stop reading if you want... this may be too much for some, but hell, I'm sharing, so here we go.
So, now, I'm laying on the delivery room bed and we are waiting. I finally ask... "how long until the placenta comes out" and the doctors tell me... just a few more minutes. It was quiet... they were quiet... I was exhausted, and we waited, for a LONG TIME, but the placenta didn't come. Finally I catch the doctors giving each other worried looks and then I know we are in trouble. They explained that too much time had passed and the placenta wasn't coming out, and they needed to manually extract it.
Stop reading now, seriously.
I'm gonna write this out quickly and will probably not edit... since I don't want to relive it more than once. So, they give me morphine. We wait. And then they tell me that this is going to hurt. And then the doctor reached inside and manually, with her hand, ripped out my placenta which was stuck to the uterine wall. I wanted to die. I wished death. I never want to feel that again and it makes me cry to remember it. I bled a lot and then I finally fell asleep, because that is all I remember until I was in a recovery room hours later. The end to that part....
So, we had to wait until the morphine wore off before I could see my son, who was in an isolete, waiting for me. When I finally could, I waddled down the hall in a hospital gown and socks until they finally let me and my husband see him. Luckily they let me pick him up immediately and in my morphine induced state, I cried for my little Tot, I cried for me and then I started the long trek up a hill that I never anticipated.
It was a long climb up. But we had a beautiful baby, who was healthy and just needed a bit more time to grow. 17 days in the NICU and then he came home. It was not easy, but he is amazing that little Tot and now he is 2 years old.
I needed to get this story out before the Firefly arrives. It scares me to write it out, but I needed to... thanks for reading.
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