October 18, 2012 Thursday. At my OB/GYN's clinic for one of my regular prenatal check-ups, my blood pressure was very high. I was diagnosed with pre-eclampsia earlier in my 3rd trimester. Usually whenever I would have a high BP at my doctors clinic, he would have me lay down on my left side and a follow-up BP reading would be normal. But this time he did my BP 4 times and few minutes apart, and each reading was still high. He decided to send me to the hospital that night.
October 19, 2012 Friday. My doctor stopped by at the hospital early morning to check how I was doing. My blood pressure was normal, in fact it was normal all night the past night and I felt very good. He was confident that I would go home that day but I had to wait for what the MFM (Maternal-Fetal Medicine) doctor would have to say.
October 20, 2012 Saturday. When I came out of the shower, a guy who looked like he was in his early 30's was in my room talking to Brandon, and waiting for me. It was the MFM and he had some not-so-good news to tell. He said that my lab tests showed a possible symptom of HELLP syndrome due to my liver enzymes being slightly elevated. HELLP in pregnant women usually occurs due to pre-eclampsia (more information on pre-eclampsia and HELLP here). He ordered another round of blood tests after he left to see if my liver enzymes had gone back to normal. Later that afternoon, another doctor showed up. It was the on-call doctor covering for my OB/GYN for the weekend. He came to tell me that my doctor, the MFM, and him all agreed to have me deliver that day. Although I expected to hear this kind of news due to the complication in my pregnancy, I wasn't ready for it to be so soon, and I wasn't emotionally prepared for it. I was hoping that even with pre-eclampsia, I would be able to keep my baby in until the 37th week at least. I wanted to cry the minute I heard the news (darn crazy hormones!) but managed to keep myself calm.
I was moved to the delivery room that night, and after all the paperworks a nurse came in to give me Cytotec. In case you don't know what it is, Cytotec is inserted vaginally to ripen the cervix in order to get labor started. I wish I had done enough research because had I read about Cytotec before, I would never have let anybody put it in me. Read here why. I'm glad my cervix dilated to 1 cm after one Cytotec because if it didn't, the nurse would have had to insert a second one, then a third one if necessary. She then started me on Pitocin and intravenous magnesium sulfate. The magnesium sulfate was to prevent me from going into a seizure since I had preeclampsia. That stuff is horrible to say the least. It felt like death was approaching while I was on it. The room temperature had to be set to 60s because I was burning inside, and that still didn't help. I could not keep my eyes open as if I was forced to sleep. And when my eyes were open, I was very very dizzy. I had to be hooked up to it for as long as I was on labor, and 24 more hours after delivery. As if that doesn't sound bad enough, I also could not eat or drink while I was on magnesium sulfate and IV fluids except for ice chips, or I might retain water in my lungs. Yes, ice chips for breakfast, ice chips for lunch, ice chips for dinner. My miserable labor had just started. If you hate whinings, I advise that you stop reading right now 'cause there will be more as you continue. :P
October 21, Sunday. I was already 3 cm dilated when my doctor came by at around 10:00 AM and broke my water. Painful contractions quickly followed. As weird as it may sound, I was excited every time I felt a contraction because it meant my body was doing what it was supposed to do.
After my doctor left, I requested for an epidural. My original plan was to have a natural birth. I wanted to labor drug-free and deliver the old fashion way if possible. Heck, I wanted a natural birth so bad I was prepared to yell at anyone who would insist on giving me any kind of drug. But this was before I had pre-eclampsia, back when I was so laid back about being pregnant because everything seemed to be just how I dreamed my pregnancy to be, when I had no worries health-wise and was just waiting for my due date. Obviously with pre-eclampsia, my wish for a drug-free labor was now impossible. I had to have pitocin, magnesium sulfate, and I was "tied down" to the hospital bed unable to walk around and be proactive like how I envisioned my labor to be. My original birth plan was now thrown out of the window and I was upset that things were going the opposite way. Since my wish to have a drug-free labor and delivery was now unattainable, I decided that I might as well do it pain-free. By the way, I found out that night that the hospital does not allow their patients to go walking once labor starts whether you have high blood pressure or not, which contradicts their promise on their website that "you can expect the ability to tailor your childbirth experience to meet your own unique needs and wishes" and specifically says "Want to walk during early labor? Not a problem." Yeah right!
All the epidural did was numb my legs because I could feel every single contraction. I was given more dose and it still didn't work. A few hours later and after several cervix checks, I progressed to 4 cm... then to 4.5... and it took a while before I was at 5, then it stopped from there. The nurse turned the Pitocin all the way up and had me try different positions that supposedly help speed up labor. The one that worked was where I was sitting on the bed like a monk. I started feeling more contractions. They were intense, long, and about a minute or 2 apart. Everyone has a different pain tolerance and each labor is unique. My contractions weren't a piece of cake but they were bearable. Believe it or not, I would rather have those contraction pains than a toothache. Toothaches just make me wanna rip my hair out and extract my own tooth. With contractions, I could convince myself that the pain wasn't that bad. What I couldn't stand any longer was the magnesium sulfate (I can rant about this drug all year long). Pain sucks but it's another thing to feel like dying. My lips were as dry as sandpaper. I was so weak I could barely hear my own voice when I talked. My eyes were too heavy to open so they were closed all the time. You know how heavy your head feels when you have a cold? Mine was about 10 times worse than that, and I felt so hot my body was aching for an ice bath. I felt like a wilted lettuce. And my only luxury was eating ice chips. Sometimes I cheated and let the ice melt in the cup a little bit so I could drink a few drops of water. Those few drops felt like heaven in my mouth. That day I wished I had a planned c-section so I wouldn't have had to go through all these. The thought of asking for a c-section became tempting but I was too stubborn to give up the miserable hours I had already gone through in that room. In my head I kept telling myself "Few more hours and all of these will be over." So I diverted my thoughts to focusing on meeting my baby soon, even though it was hard to focus on anything while dizzy. I wanted to lay back down but was worried the contractions would slow down, so for a couple of hours I remained sitting on the bed, feeling all the strong contractions starting from right below my chest (where the pain was most pronounced I would close my eyes so tight, clench my teeth, and hold my breath every time the pain hit there) down to my lower abdomen, and the severe pressure and pain on my back. I was in such mighty pain for hours and hours without any progress. Around 5 or 6 PM, the nurse told me that my doctor had decided to do a c-section. I was also told that even though my baby was hanging low, I have a small pelvis and that's why I wasn't progressing even with all the contractions. I let out a big disappointed sigh upon learning that I was going to have a surgery. I felt like I lost a battle. Then again, I reminded myself that this wasn't just about me or what I wanted. It was mainly about my baby, and getting him out safe was more important than anything.
It was between 7 and 7:30 that night when I was transferred to the operating room. I anxiously waited on the operating table completely naked and numb from the waist down while watching the surgical team get ready for the surgery. For the first time, I felt no shame about other people seeing my body without any cover. So many things were going through my mind that I could care less who stared at what. If I remember right, there were eight of them in the surgical team: my doctor, 4 female nurses, the male anesthesiologist who gave me the epidural, and 2 other male anesthesiologists. They later put up a sheet drape across me and let Brandon in. They increased the epidural that I had for labor and shortly after, I began to feel the "elephant sitting on my chest" feeling that the anesthesiologist had warned me about. They had me spread my arms to the sides. Brandon was sitting on my left side and holding my hand. I asked the anesthesiologist to hold the other hand which Brandon thought was funny because I'm usually to shy to ask people. Like I said, I was pretty shameless that night.
The surgery started and I couldn't get the thought of a knife slicing my abdomen out of my head. The 2 other anesthesiologists were standing above me so I looked up and asked them to tell me stories. Brandon whispered that I was acting different. I diverted my thoughts to a few different things: what Owen will look like, why the room is not dimly lit while the surgery is going on and the lights are too bright, and the comfort that Brandon's presence gives me. Then I heard my doctor say "I can see the head now." and my heart jumped in excitement. I felt some tugging and pressure and the next thing I heard was a cry. It was the sweetest thing I heard in my entire life, but at the same time it also sounded so sad that I wanted to hold him right then so I could make him feel that everything was okay. The moment we heard that first cry, Brandon's eyes and mine instantly met. Really, it was an amazing feeling when I realized that our eyes met at the same time. Without a single word spoken and with just our eyes talking, we were telling each other "He's here!". I will never forget the tear I saw at the corner of his eye and the expression on his face as our grip on each other's hands suddenly tightened. We were both crying. Our precious little boy was born at 8:01 PM and I couldn't wait to see him.
Only a few minutes old. I treasure this picture so much because it's the only one of him in the delivery room (scroll down to P.S. to read why).
After being cleaned, weighed, and measured, Owen was finally handed to us wrapped in a blanket and Brandon eagerly received him. As he held our son, I saw nothing but love, excitement, and happiness in his eyes while he was staring at him. I could tell how proud he was. My heart was flooded with emotions as I watched my little family right beside me. It was a picture-perfect moment, and it's a shame that I don't have pictures of it (see P.S.). At this time, the anesthesiologist had already let go of my hand, haha. I touched Owen's face and head while I stared at him like I wasn't going to see him ever again. There he was, so tiny, sweet, and innocent. His eyes were wide open and didn't seem to be bothered by the bright light right above him. His mouth and chin looked just like Brandon's. I kept whispering "He's so handsome." I fell in love right away and forgot all my fears and everything else in the world. I was longing so much to hold him that very moment, but wasn't allowed to. Right before Brandon handed him back to the nurse, I had a quick glimpse of his hair and noticed that it looked somewhat red. "OMG, he has red hair?" I almost squealed, surprised. One of the nurses answered casually, "No, that's just from your blood." I heard laughter from the other side of the drape. I was a little embarrassed but realized what I just said was hilarious so I laughed along. Silly me. "Red hair, haha." I heard my doctor mumble. I know, right doc? My husband is blonde and my hair is black, so that baby can't be a redhead. But hey, you have to remember how drugged up I am right now, I could have mistaken you for my ex-boyfriend.
They whisked Owen away to the nursery and Brandon stayed with me in the operating room. I remember he kept telling me to stay awake because I just couldn't kept my eyes open. I did not even realize it every time my eyes were about to shut. After all the stitching, cleaning, and whatever else they were doing to the bottom half of my body, I was moved to the recovery room while Brandon went to the nursery. I stayed in the recovery room for what seemed like forever and never in my whole life fought so hard to stay awake, because I was scared that if I fell asleep I might not wake up again. I'm a very paranoid person in case you haven't heard.
Finally, I was moved back to the L&D room. I was very happy the minute I saw Brandon again. He was my only support all this time and I was so lucky to have such a kind, supportive, and very patient labor and delivery companion. Never did I hear him complain about anything... except for the uncomfortable chair at the triage that he sat on for hours. He was his nicest self the whole time. Owen was brought to our room so we could snuggle with him. Even though I felt really crappy and the room looked like it was spinning, I tried to be in the moment and savor it, and I did somehow. I held him in my arms for the first time and his skin felt so soft and warm.
Owen had to go back to the nursery later that night and we gave him lots of kisses before we let him go. I laid back down, ready to fall asleep while Brandon wouldn't stop looking at Owen's pictures on his phone and kept saying "We have the cutest baby in the world!". To this day, he still says that a bazillion times a day.
I hope I did not scare any woman reading this who has not had a baby from having one, because it was not my intention. After all that I went through, I think bringing forth a child — whether traditionally or through an alternate method that is c-section — is one of the most wonderful events a woman could ever experience in her lifetime. Sure it was difficult for me, but as soon as I saw and held for the first time the child that I carried for months and longed to meet every time he kicked inside my body, I realized that it was worth all the pains and fears. I know there are lots women out there who went through a more traumatic experience in the delivery room and did not regret having their baby. I am still in awe when I watch Owen breathe while he's in my arms. Life is such a miracle, and I am honored to have been given the privilege to bring forth a precious soul. Despite that things didn't turn out the way I had hoped them to, I'm very grateful that Owen and I both made it safe. That even though he wasn't born full-term, he was a perfectly healthy baby (and still is). Would I do it all over again? Of course. But I hope that there will be no more magnesium sulfate the second time. ;)
P.S. I'm grateful for my phone which we used to take all these precious photos. I brought my DSLR, loaded it with 2 memory cards, one was 8GB and the other 4GB to make sure I wouldn't run out of space for pictures during our stay at the hospital. It wasn't until we were inside the operating room and my doctor was about to cut me that I realized the battery wasn't charged. It was dead! I wanted to shoot myself. Once Owen was out, I asked Brandon to take pictures with his phone. Well, silly husband had downloaded this app for his camera that made it take really crappy photos for some reason. All the pictures he took of Owen in the operating room turned out very blurry, and the second photo above was the only one that came out decent. Surprisingly, I didn't go ballistic.
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