Kate's Birth story
It was March 31st 2:30 am when my back fiercely began hurting. I was 37 weeks pregnant, 40 pounds heavier than I normally am and felt like a snake that swallowed a beach ball. I began to feel the tell tell tightening across my stomach and let me tell you contractions hurt like a bitch. Seriously. I wasn’t prepared for how bad they hurt. So fast forward to lunchtime, I’m trying to get ready for my obgyn appointment and contact my fiancé to let him know what is going on. I’m huffing and puffing through each contraction, holding back panic and tears all while trying to apply mascara so I look somewhat human for my appointment. Mascara was a bad idea! As I began sweating and swearing it smudged and began to run down my face. I went with it and decided f it I’m in labor probably who cares.
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My appointment went smoothly, I was told I was dilated to 1 centimeter (I didn’t realize that isn’t much until later when you have to make it to 10 and then the real fun happens). I came back home and at this point I was packed and waiting for my fiancé who had a broken phone and was over a hour away some where on the highway. He finally was able to make contact and drove like a mad man to my Moms house, he was so flustered he parked in the neighbors driveway even though he’s been to my Moms a thousand times.
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We proceeded to rush to the hospital where I was admitted only AFTER I was forced to walk the halls to “speed up the process”. Thank God for the railings along the wall, pretty sure I almost ripped one off. We settled into my labor and delivery room as comfortably as possible that evening around 9:00 pm. I was finally able to get my epidural at 11:00, a godsend for me. All you Mommas who do it naturally I applaud you! For real. I’m a wimp! The night progressed with blissful sleep. That morning is when things started moving, in a wrong direction looking back.
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My water was broken around 11:00 am and then I was rolled from side to side with a peanut pillow (aka foam thing that resembles a peanut) between my legs. My labor progressed and I was given pictocin to help my contractions keep going. The time finally came to start pushing. I was mentally prepared, or so I thought. The doctor sat on the end of the bed by my legs and instructed me to push when I thought I was having a contraction. Mind you I had a epidural I didn’t feel anything but a little pressure so I pushed when I felt that. I was promptly told “I wasn’t doing it right” or “Nope that isn’t it” by the doctor. So I pushed as best I could for over 4 hours, my son began to have problems and I was threatened with “we will have to get the vacuum if you can’t get him out”. My epidural was turned down (more like off) and I pushed and pushed until I saw stars. I was administered oxygen and kept on.
Finally my son crowned and the ring of Fire is a real thing and that is the best way to describe it. Like your body is being ripped in half and on fire basically. He slid out and was blue. My heart couldn’t take it and I just started crying. There was no cutting the cord, or laying him on my chest. He was whisked away without me getting to touch him. Respiratory and other doctors worked on him and he finally cried. We all cried. My fiancé accompanied him to the NICU and I was told he would be back in a hour.
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I was stitched up and cleaned up and took a nap. Hours went by and I still hadn’t touched my baby. I called whoever I could get and asked to see him. 5 hours after his birth I finally got to go see him, not hold him. He was having apnea and had a cephlahematoma (which is blood pooling on his head) on the left side of his head. We were told he could have a possible skull fracture and so more tests were run. The decision was made to transfer him to a children’s hospital NICU for further tests and observation. It was the most terrified I’ve ever been in my life. A child I’ve never held in my arms held every piece of my breaking heart.
So we went into the children’s hospital, I was pushed around (rather badly haha) in a wheelchair due to my multiple stitches and tears. Between pumping, spending all the time I could by my sons bedside and changing gigantic pads I didn’t sleep I barely ate and I hadn’t gotten to bathe in days. We stayed at the hospital, slept on futons and the floor and prayed. I’ve never felt more helpless in my life. I finally got to hold my newborn baby two days after he was born, cords, feeding tubes and all. It was the first moment I really felt like his Mommy and the first time I knew he would be ok, a sense of peace washed over me when I held him. After a few days we were told there is no skull fracture and his apnea had gone away on its own, the cheplahematoma was shrinking and going away also. He was ready to go home! The ride home was scary but my boy was healthy finally and home where he belongs. He’s had no issues since his birth!
My birth story isn’t the norm, it isn’t meant to scare anyone. It is my story of becoming a mother and bringing my son into the world. I couldn’t have done it without my family and fiancé by my side. It seems so long ago and yet seems like just yesterday at the same time. W is now a happy, healthy, thriving 10 month old. He’s taking on walking and conquering every milestone with a smile.
For more great stories like this visit Kate's blog by pressing the phot at the top of the article!
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