In case you are trepidatious of any TLC's A Baby Story-esq images, fear not. There are no pictures that would ever come close to gracing the pages of any medical books.
Where to begin? (In case you missed it,
we added the third little boy to our family. :)) I've really debated on turning this into a trilogy of sorts but I'm pretty sure that's better left to the likes of Tolkien.
On Wednesday I headed in for my 32 week appointment. I had to wait sort of a long time at my appointment which was fine because I don't normally have to wait and my OB always cheers about excessive weight gain rather than scolds which is probably the most important lesson you can learn in obstetrics (okay - within reason - but really... hormonally charged ladies don't need to be lectured on giving into a few too many of their cravings, in my hormonally charged opinion).
The nurse came in and we chatted about my obsession with strawberries and deviled eggs as she took my blood pressure and did the routine. I love OB nurses. I'm sure they hear the weirdest stuff from every lady who comes in and they don't bat an eye.
When my doctor came in we hugged (normal? hormonal?) and she got to the business of my apparently very high blood pressure. In my head I was blaming the 6 deviled eggs I had eaten the night before when she told me she wanted to watch if for an hour. Cool. I was happy to have an extra hour to read the gossip magazines and a little bliss that is toddler-free living.
When my hour was up and two additional blood pressure checks later, it was determined that the blood pressure was just too high. (I blame comparing my prego self to Kate Middleton...how does she???) So I was sent to the hospital for blood work.
I called Jake and the sitter and got everything worked out. They took me back to triage and this was by far the easiest hospital visit I'd ever had. A tiny prick for the required blood work and getting hooked up to the monitor and the rest was just a waiting game. While I felt a little concern waiting for the results, I wasn't in any harried hurry to get home and leave my beloved flavored ice chips, tv channels, peace, and serenity behind.
After about two hours the results came back with a super low platelet level and the decision that I should be admitted for 24 hour observation including a 24 hour urine collection. Sweet. The perks of being pregnant.
The next day (Thursday) the doctor's scheduled an in depth ultrasound of Beck. The ultrasound revealed placenta previa with the high possibly of placenta abruption and a tear in the amniotic sac and the chorionic sac. The tear posed the possibility of the umbilical cord getting caught and cutting off blood flow.
So after talking to the perinatologist (who was very gracious and gifted in explaining everything to us layman) he felt it was in Beck's best interest and mine that we do hospital bed rest till 35 weeks (I was just shy of 33) and at that point we would do an amniotic test to see how his lungs were doing. If he was able to breath on his own, then they would deliver him. If not, they would try and wait till 37 weeks but not longer.
We sat in semi stunned silence as it all sunk in. The logistics seemed insurmountable with the potential of four weeks in the hospital. But with literally one text to our Relief Society president we had baby sitting and meals set for the upcoming two weeks. I know. We were overwhelmed with gratitude.
^^^A Facetime call home with Hulk.
Friday morning I woke up and just didn't feel right. Physically and emotionally I just was a hot mess. For the first part of the morning I convinced myself that it was because I was processing everything but around noon my crazy was showing itself more than is socially acceptable. So I called the nurse in and explained how I was feeling and asked if we could hook me up to the monitors. I expressed my confusion as to why my stomach was hurting so bad (I honestly, truly thought it was anxiety. Ha.) and my nurse told me I was having contractions.
What? Contractions?
It was a "Yo mama so crazy she didn't know she was giving birth" moment.
Here's the thing. With Rhett I had horrible back labor that easily dwarfed the pain from contractions and with Rad, he was emergency C-section so I never had any contractions with him. Don't judge? I felt like a fool not even realizing I was in labor.
My sweet nurse hooked me up to the monitors where they could monitor the contractions strength and frequency. The contractions were 8 minutes apart and were strong, but not unbearable. One of the nurses put in an IV to start a round of fluids (to try and stop the contractions) and did a phenomenal job...not a drop of blood to be seen. Usually it looks like a war zone afterwards because my veins are bigger than Goliath's. Guaranteed. And sweet relief, the fluids calmed the tempest.
That night I woke up lowing like an entire herd of cattle and was trying to actually run away from my own uterus because OUCH. Contractions were now 4-7 min apart but Beck's heart rate was fine so they did another round of fluids which helped. Sort of.
They helped enough to allow me to sleep...fitfully. My doctor came in around 9:30 and we talked about starting magnesium in a few to stop the contractions if the fluids didn't help again. Since Beck was responding fine despite the contractions (up to that point) the goal was just to get the contractions to stop. Because magnesium has some nasty side effects (think major, epic flu symptoms) the first choice was one more round of fluids before we went down the magnesium path.
Either way.
Halleluiah.
Bring on the interventions.
Now, please.
But before the magnesium made it my way, the contractions started coming ever 2-3 minutes and were STRONG. Huffing, puffing and about to blow the house down I called the nurse in and she noticed that Beck was decel-ing with every contraction. This was around noon. She stepped out to get the doctor and I somehow managed to doze off. I woke up to the nurse standing at the foot of my bed and cheerfully declaring it was time to deliver the baby.
Oh.
Wait. What????
Jake wasn't there and all of a sudden my room was full of overly cheerful nurses and I felt like a fish in a fish bowl. We got a hold of Jake and he rushed over making it about five minutes before they wheeled me out.
The contractions were still 2-3 minutes apart and I was about to hug the anesthesiologist when he came in and did his thing. I've never had a super painful epidural or spinal placement and this was no different.
God bless America. And medicated births.
Little Beck greeted the florescent lights and masked doctors at 1:14PM. Coming in at a whopping 4.8 pounds. I saw him for about 5 seconds before he was whisked away.
I wish I could say that I remember a lot of the next few hours but foggy brain kicked in reeeal fast like. My blood pressure was if full swing though and slightly through the roof. So the fancy magnesium came my way to help bring it down and prevent seizures. A plus for sure but my freaking goodness. It knocked me flat. And combined with the narcotics which always make me sick I was a royal mess.
I was on the magnesium for 24 hours and started to feel slightly better till I had to sit up. Turned out that there was a leak in spinal fluid from my spinal which meant a spinal headache. The WORST headache I have ever had. It was absolutley bizarre because if I was lying down I was a happy camper but as soon as I sat up I went cross eyed and felt like I had to keep my head at a 90 degree angle. As you can imagine I was a reeeeally fantastic conversationalist and went almost 72 hours without a shower or brushing my teeth. Makes you want to brush your teeth just thinking about it, I know.
The cure for the spinal headache was to first try chugging caffeine. Like 4 liters in 8 hours. I was a wired (literally just like
THIS), emotional, and hormonal. All the best things to be at once. And the caffeine did help, but not enough to kick the head ache. So the next step was a blood patch. They take blood from your arm and essentially give you an epidural of your blood into your spine. It forms literally a clot or patch to block the spinal fluid from leaking. The saintly doctor told me I would feel some "pressure" when I think he should have said "you'll feel like your spine is being detached from your hips." But it worked. Praise medical gods.
Finally I was able to spend some time with little Beck and came home, leaving him in the NICU. That's a post for a different time, but I was so hard to drive away knowing that he wasn't coming home with us. (PS he's doing really well and I'll blog about it soon. :))
And there you have it. The birth novel of the year.
So how to come to an unabrupt close?
The end?
Yes.
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