Reflections on Ethan's birth - Part 3 - "Failure to Progress?"

[MamaSueCongdon]

For the next two days, I felt my body preparing itself for labor. Every few hours I’d have these rushes along with back pain. I was excited! Maybe I’ll go into labor on my own and not have to be induced! I mentioned this to my family, and my Mom said, “well you’d better go ahead and have that baby fast so I don’t miss it!” Tuesday came and went. Wednesday wore on. My husband and I were supposed to go in at midnight – technically midnight on Thursday morning. We tried to rest but couldn’t. I was nervous and tried not to think about what we were walking in to. Finally, at 11:45pm, we loaded up the car and headed to the hospital for our induction. On the way there, we stopped at a gas station to get some ice cream and some snacks for the labor. I got some candies and nuts, thinking that the sugar boosts and protein would be a good combination.

Me - right after we checked in.

We arrived at the hospital right on schedule and were led to our room. I changed into the hospital gown, regretting that I’d left my robe at home. I hated the fact that I was supposed to be naked under the gown and felt so exposed and uneasy. A woman came in and handed me a stack of papers to sign. There was so much there, and I was extremely overwhelmed. I tried skimming it all and signed the papers after seeing they were the same ones we’d signed before. The night nurse came in and introduced herself. Her name was Brandy, and she had just delivered her own baby 3 months earlier – naturally. I was excited to have her as my nurse and felt connected to her immediately. A quiet but respectful looking woman came in and introduced herself to me as the midwife on call for that night. After she left, Brandy told me that this midwife had a reputation for letting women labor “a little too long” in the birth tub. The hospital had a policy of not allowing women to push in the tub – but apparently this gal would clearly explain that they had a right to refuse her advice to exit the tub *wink wink. She also said that this woman spent time in Africa, in the bush country, helping women give birth. I was extremely excited. Someone came in and inserted Cytotec to try and soften my still rigid cervix. I vaguely remembered reading that cytotec might be dangerous, but assumed that they knew what they were doing. Then a medical assistant offered me an Ambien to help me sleep. I gladly took it and then asked my husband to hand me a candy bar. The medical assistant interrupted us and said, “woah… you’re not allowed to eat anything!” “Why?” I asked. “Because when you have your CS, we don’t want to risk you vomiting and choking.” I got a sick feeling in my stomach and suddenly felt like we should just go home. But I figured it was probably too late – and just kept quiet. After the staff left us for the night, I stayed awake watching television. I knew it was important for me to sleep – but I didn’t want to miss anything! What if I went into labor right away! Plus, I didn’t feel safe falling asleep in the hospital for some reason. The Ambien eventually took hold, however, so I spent the night drifting in and out of consciousness – fighting to keep my thoughts clear. The effects of that drug, and the sleep deprivation, never quite let up – and I spent the rest of my stay in the hospital feeling very disconnected and fuzzy.

The next morning was a blur of different people coming in and out of my room. I don’t really remember things as a sequence of events, but rather have different snapshots in my head that I’ve done my best to put in order. I remember being horrified to see the Hippie Medwife walk through my door at the shift-change at 7am. I was told that I couldn’t have anymore cytotec because it was already overstimulating my uterus. They said I’d just have to sit on the pitocin and hope that worked out. DH and I waited and watched television and entertained family. My mother and grandparents came by for a little while, and my MIL. The new day-nurse – Peggy – was an older woman with super curly hair. She seemed really skittish and had an “old-school” air about her. She came in and out of my room throughout the morning to readjust the EFM and contraction monitors and had trouble keeping a strip. I kept trying to tell her she had them in the wrong places – I’d been monitored so many time during my pregnancy and knew right where they’d need to put things to get a reading – but she would shoo my hands away and move the monitors back to where she wanted them. I’d move them back as soon as she’d leave the room and they’d be fine again until she came back to change them. I’d had it with sitting in the bed and demanded the use of the wireless monitors so that DH and I could do a couple laps around the ward. I wasn’t having timeable contractions so much as I was experiencing a generally crampy achiness that reminded me of my period. After our walk I sat on my birth ball and rolled around while. We watched Ratatouille. Medwife came in to do a check in the early evening and found me still at a 1… but pretty effaced. She offered to get me a bulb catheter and I refused. I laid in bed and tried to rest despite my crampy grumpiness, and Peggy came in and out to hike up the pitocin. After several trips to the bathroom I saw my plug fall out into the little “collection hat” they leave in the toilet. My husband was horrified. Around 7pm, Medwife came in to say she was off for the evening and hoped I wouldn’t be there when she came back the next day. I’d hoped she choked in her sleep. A short while after she left, I felt a pop and a trickle and got out of bed with a big sploosh of my water breaking. I was elated! I took the EFM off and hobbled to the bathroom to sit on the potty. I instinctively returned to the bathroom to squat on the toilet over and over throughout the day – and was always barked at by the nurse for taking too long. But Brandy was back on staff at the shift change, and she let me off of the machines so I could labor in peace.

I was not prepared for how brutal the pit contractions would become. It seemed that as soon as my water broke, all hell broke loose. At first I was in bed, but I went to the toilet to sit. Brandy tried to help me get into different positions to see if it would help me cope – but I finally decided that it was the toilet and wanted and I was going to stay there. My husband came in the bathroom with me and we labored together for almost three hours. Those hours were my sweetest and most precious memory of the entire ordeal. DH is absolutely horrified by the sight of blood, and I knew that it was taking his every ounce of strength to keep his composure and be strong for me. I felt like a wild animal; rocking, mooing, and “HA!”-ing at the end of every breath. The contractions seemed unmanageable and I had no way of timing them. It felt like they were just one right after the other with only a few seconds to rest in between. I finally found a rhythm of rocking, moaning, and having DH run his fingers through my hair while I rocked. After some time – the nurse came back in and requested that I get back on the machines to get another strip. I told her to piss off and leave me alone and kept up my rocking and mooing. Eventually – she insisted to the point that my DH and Mom (who was suddenly back in the room… the rest of our family and left way before my water broke) urged me to get on the bed. The contractions would not stop long enough for me to walk, so I sat through a few more on the toilet before reluctantly walking to the bed. Another contraction hit as I made it to the bed, and I leaned over and tried swaying my hips back and forth and just sobbed, “I CAN’T DO THIS!” I was referring to being in bed on my back… it just hurt too much and I wanted to be able to move. I knew that it was best for me to move around and I was able to stay on top of the pain that way. My mom whispered in my ear, “you can get your epidural now if you want.” I felt absolutely defeated. I felt like everyone around me was watching me fail, watching me give up, and just waiting for me to buckle. I softly muttered, “okay” and regretted it as soon as the word left my mouth. Someone helped me on to the bed and the nurse put the monitors on. I gripped the side of the bed and tried moaning and “ha!”ing to help keep my focus. While they went to fetch the anesthesiologist, Medwife appeared and did a VE without warning me first… during a contraction. I screamed and cried because it hurt so bad, and she told me to stop wiggling and to put my fist under my back. I couldn’t speak from the pain, and just screamed. My husband barked at her and told her to leave me alone. She finally came out and let everyone know I’d made it to a five. I was elated!! Five centimeters in only three hours! I sobbed for the sheer joy of progress, but everyone thought I was freaking out about the pain. I tried telling them I was happy. I decided I didn’t want the epidural, but the nurse came back and injected something into my IV and said that the anesthesiologist would be a while. Everything got even fuzzier from that point. I felt removed from what was going on, though I could still feel anything. I felt like I was watching some scary movie. I could feel everything, but couldn’t speak. A full hour later – the anesthesiologist finally appeared with some forms. I was still contracting very forcefully and had a difficult time sitting up and sitting still while they inserted the needle. I felt the prick of the numbing shot, and then the pressure of the catheter, but I didn’t care. After a few moments, the pain subsided… and I finally felt swell! I felt silly even – and decided that we should invite the whole family back into the room. So around 11pm my MIL, FIL, Mom, and grandparents came in and milled around for a while. I was being extremely goofy because of the drugs they’d given me and everyone thought it was a hoot. After visiting for a while, everyone left except for DH and we tried to get some sleep while my body did it’s work. The epi slowed things down, so someone turned the pit back on. I watched tv… sort of… and txted my entire phone list with labor progress updates while DH snored away on the husband couch. My poor trooper was completely zonked. I felt lonely.

Right after the Epidural...

Sometime in the middle of the night, Brandy came in to tell me she was going on lunch and introduced me to the “break nurse.” Brandy left, and Break Nurse proceeded to ask me if I was aware of the risks of vaginally delivering such a huge baby. I was shocked. I was aware – I’d read everything. I told her so, but said she could tell me whatever she was planning to tell me. She then proceeded to inform me that my baby would probably get stuck, and that when that happened, they were going to have to break his arm so he wouldn’t die. Then she said there was still time for me to schedule a cs, and left. I was pissed! I fumed and tried to go to sleep, but to no avail. My mom’s plane was scheduled to leave sometime around 5am or so – and she tried to arrange a change of ticket. She came in and told me she was headed to the airport to try and change things and that she’d be back as soon as she could.

Around 3am, I started feeling like I needed to go to the bathroom. I tried paging the nurse’s station and no one answered. I paged again a few minutes later and heard Break Nurse over an intercom, “yes?” “Um… I need to use the bathroom.” “You’ve got a catheter.” “No, I mean, I feel like I need to use the bathroom, can someone come help me?” “Do you feel like you are ready to push?” “NO! I feel like I need to POOP, can someone please come help me?” “Brandy is still on break – someone will come help you soon, don’t push.” While I was waiting to push, we got a call from my Mom that the airport wasn’t allowing her to change her flight and she was stuck there with no way to get back to the hospital. I was so drugged that I really didn’t care, and told her to enjoy her flight.

Finally, around 5am Brandy came back with someone who checked me and said I was dilated to a 10, but had a little lip. They said they’d push some more pit to get rid of the lip, and that they’d be back to come help me push in a little while. I don’t know how long I waited. By the time they came back, I didn’t have the urge to push anymore – but the team was all geared up for me to do so. I don’t remember who “the team” was exactly – I know Brandy was there, and I feel like there were at least two other people there as well. Amidst my fog, I still knew that I did NOT want to push on my back. I made this clear. Brandy turned the epi down so I could control my legs and then helped me roll onto my side so that I could push in a side-lying position. Every so often she would help me roll to the other side and push. I felt like we were making great progress, and DS had been at a -2 when we were first checked and he started coming down to a -1 at the next check. At the shift change – Peggy came back on and I was distraught to see Brandy leave. I was having difficulty trusting my body. I could feel the pressure of the contractions, but the monitors were not registering them at all. Peggy turned up the pitocin – but I was so oblivious that I had no idea what was going on. I was not allowed to push during my contractions bc they weren’t registering on the monitor, and Peggy coached me along in three hours of purple pushing. I would rotate from my left side, to my right, to the squat bar. At one point, DH was starting to get light-headed and asked me if MIL could come in my Mother’s place and help relieve him. I consented, and my MIL came and helped me brace my legs to push. This whole stage is foggy to me still. I don’t remember feeling the pushes. I do remember numerous people poking me in the perineum and telling me to “push here!” and to “push harder.” For some reason, my body just couldn’t coordinate all of it’s energy. At some point, Peggy started digging into my vagina with her fingers during pushes. It hurt and I asked her why she kept doing that. Her fingers were covered with blood and it was really disturbing me. She reassured me that she was trying to make room for the baby’s head to descend, but it just felt like she was clawing me. Peggy checked and said that DS was at a 0! I finally had had enough of her clawing me and demanded the use of the squat bar again.

And that’s where I was hanging when the OB finally came in. I don’t know for sure what time it was. She checked me while I was hanging there and said that DS was only at a -1 and “it was time for me to just give up and have the cs already.” I was completely and totally devastated. I just hung there on the bar above my bed and cried. I was too tired to fight anymore. I said “fine” and someone helped me slump back down in my bed. Papers were brought to me, someone explained the risks, but I didn’t care anymore. I saw the note “FTP,” signed the papers, and cried. Then my epidural stopped working.

All at once, I could feel DS’s head lodged in the birth canal and I completely lost it. That was the worst pain I’d felt so far, and I just started shrieking uncontrollably from the pain and from the fear. People scattered and then another flood of people came in. Someone threw my husband a smock and told him to get changed. A new anesthesiologist crouched by my bed trying to fix the epi. Someone put another dose of something in my IV. And I kept shrieking. I was wheeled down the corridor screaming my brains out and begging someone to do something. The doors opened to the surgery room and I started shaking. Someone had the nerve to ask me if I could move myself onto a thin metal table, and all I could do was cry and shake my head no. A team of people lifted me and I sobbed and begged as they tied me down. The next few minutes were a blur; a blue sheet over my face, straps on my arms, something cold going across my shoulder (my line to the epi) and finally I couldn’t feel my son trapped inside of me anymore, something sharp poking me n the arm, someone asking me if I could feel it and me nodding; someone poking me in the leg, me saying I felt pressure but that it wasn’t sharp. Then the pushing and poking started. I’d heard horror stories of women’s epi/spinal failing and started screaming that I could feel them. The anesthesiologist sat by my left shoulder and told me what was going on. He explained that I’d feel pressure but to tell him if anything felt sharp. DH materialized by my right shoulder and held my hand. I kept my eyes shut and cried. I heard the doctors making small talka bout their plans for the weekend, and then heard a woman’s voice, “it’s a TODDLER! Look at all that HAIR!” as I felt like someone was sitting on me. I heard my son cry but couldn’t see him. I opened my eyes and saw a large thick tube going across the front of my face and followed it to my left and saw a huge container of blood. I tried asking the anesthesiologist what it was, and he kept trying to get my attention on the syringe next to my face by saying, “look – it’s morphine!” I finally asked, “is that MY blood!?” and he said, “yes, but look, morphine.” I laid there while they sewed me back up. That part took the longest. I could hear DS screaming, and DH walked over to see him. Lots of pressure and pushing, then pulling. DH walked over and showed me our son. I was so terrified that I barely even noticed him standing there. They walked away with him to do tests or something and I laid there trying not to think about the fact that my body was sitting wide open. Then before I realized what was going on – the blue curtain was removed, and a doctor was sitting a desk counting rags to make sure there were none left in me. I was already covered in blankets. I started shivering as they wheeled me into the recovery area.