Time flies when you're having fun (VERY long- birth story!)

The past 9 months have truly flown by.  I can't believe that when I wrote my last post I was still pregnant and we didn't know who we were going to meet in April, and now it's January and we can't imagine what life was like before Olivia.  Our days are starting to get more predictable, and we are thriving in this mountain home.  So many things have happened, though... less than a month after she was born, we moved into a new house (5 houses away from our previous home) and we're still adjusting to that transition... More on that hopefully next time.  But today, how Olivia came into the world.

April 2 came and went without too much fanfare.  We went to the doctor and she noted that I was just 1 cm dilated and that she did not expect the baby that day, but hopefully by the end of the week.  We went to lunch at Panera with my parents then headed home.  

Wednesday, April 3, I had a meeting to attend on campus more than an hour away, but I was feeling kind of weird so I didn't go.  My lower back hurt, but I could still walk and move around without too much issue.  I went with my parents to run errands; they shopped at Walmart and I got a much-needed pedicure... the sweet girl who did my toes guessed that I was having a girl, and I said, "We will see!  Hopefully, it's here in the next few days!"  After Meg got home from work, she and I went for a walk with Dublin and chatted about how our life was about to change.  We did a little more shopping with my parents and ended up getting dinner from KFC, which I normally am disgusted by... but that night I think I ate 3 or 4 chicken legs.  Also a biscuit.  And coleslaw.  After that Meg and I went to the movies to see Captain Marvel, and while neither of us are comic book fans (and after the first 5 minutes we looked at each other and said "umm... are we going to like this??") we ended up really enjoying the story and the girl power that was built in.  Also, the soundtrack included a number of our favorite 90's hits, so that was another big win.  But the bass throughout the movie definitely got our little one moving, and things started happening once we got home.  

I started to feel more weird once we got home, and the back pain started moving toward my belly.  Meg and I went up to bed at 10, with my parents telling Meg, "You better wake us up when you leave!  We are coming to the hospital with you!"  (We all think we're a little psychic in this family, so they definitely had the intuition that we were going to be heading to the hospital that night!)  The pain started getting more intense, but we laid down and I tried to breathe through it and sleep as much as possible so I wouldn't be too tired for the actual delivery.  Around 2am, we noted that the contractions were about a minute long each, with about 4 minutes in between, so we texted the midwife.  She encouraged us to come in since we live about an hour from the hospital.  Meg woke up my parents and I got my stuff situated.  It's really tough to have a bag packed for the hospital when you wear contact lenses  & glasses, have phone chargers that you use regularly, slippers that you want to bring... so I had to throw a few things in before we could go.  My parents got ready in record time, and we were on our way.  Meg made it to the hospital in about 40 minutes which I'm certain is a land-speed record, and my dad was right behind the whole time.  Every few minutes I had to stop talking, bend over, and just breathe.  The contractions were definitely intense.  

We got into the hospital around 3 am and had to walk what felt like a mile to the elevators that take you to the maternity ward.  Every few minutes I had to take a break to lean over and breathe through the pain before continuing on our journey.  The midwife alerted the hospital that we were on our way so when we got to the check-in desk they were expecting us.  I had to answer a number of questions before they gave me a room, which, had I not been doubled over in pain, would have led me to ask, "Remember when I came in to do my walk-through and fill out paperwork 3 weeks ago?  Why the hell are you asking me these questions now?!"  Basic questions-- medication allergies, due date, next of kin-- seriously, there's got to be another way.

Finally, we get into a room and I'm asked to put on a gorgeous and well-worn hospital gown-- I've hardly felt more glamorous.  Our awesome midwife showed up, bright-eyed and caffeinated, and checked me for progress... just 3 cm dilated.  "So", she said, "We wait."  

By noon on Thursday, April 4, there hadn't been much action.  I was up and down throughout the early morning hours, dozing and walking the halls trying to rest and get the baby moving.  I sat on an exercise ball, leaned against it, and laid with a peanut ball between my legs.  I enjoyed hospital delicacies including Jell-O, chicken broth, and ice chips (which my hospital flavored with pina colada!).  The midwife came in and noted I had barely progressed (I don't think I'd even gotten to 4 cm yet), and asked if we'd like to break the water to get things moving.  At this question, I was aware that this choice could start me on the path of medical interventions that I did not want to travel.  But by noon on Thursday, I'd already been in labor for 12 hours with virtually no progress, and Meg and I were both exhausted.  We asked what to expect once the water broke, and the midwife said that contractions would begin to come faster and that they would be more intense.  But, she assured us that it would probably make things happen faster.  So, we agreed.   

2 pm:  Two more hours of contractions, my parents coming in and out, more walking and breathing, two awesome puking incidences, and I was pooped.  Plus, little progress... still at 4 cm.  So, I took the next rung on the ladder of medical interventions-- the one I was most scared of.  "I think we need to start talking about an epidural."  Meg and I chatted about it (as best we could, with contractions now coming at a much faster pace, about every 2 minutes), and the nurses and midwife assured me that "Johnny is the anesthesiologist that's here today, and he is really the best.  He gives the best epidurals."  So, we welcomed 6'5 Dr. Johnny to come in.  He was calm, kind, and super tall-- we had to jack the bed up pretty high so he had access to the right part of my spine-- and between contractions, he was able to insert the epidural.  Meg did not watch.  As soon as that thing went in, I was truly able to rest and relax.  Meg thinks it's funny that my reaction post-epidural was "This is the best decision of my life!" but honestly, after over 14 hours of near-constant pain, my body was ready for a break.  We both were able to snooze and relax, which was much needed.  My parents came in and out, and my dad was fascinated by the machine that measured my contractions:  "You really can't feel that?  It says it's a big one."  "The technology they have today..."  "So that's the baby's heartbeat?"  They went and got lunch (Arby's, a family favorite) and got Meg something too, and we all just kicked back and relaxed for a bit.  

4pm:  For some women, getting an epidural slows down the natural process of labor.  Unfortunately, this was the case for me.  My contractions kept slowing and weakening, which is bad because it also prevents labor from progressing.  So the remedy for that is the next rung on the ladder of medical intervention-- Pitocin.  The midwife came and explained everything about adding this drug, and then it was done... for the next couple of hours, I fluctuated between contracting too hard and too fast with not contracting enough.  So the cocktail kept being adjusted, although they never found the perfect amount to make consistent contractions.  

6pm:  The midwife comes in to check my progress.  7 cm.  After 18 hours of labor, I'd only progressed to 7cm.  She said, "I'm not sure what's going on.  But I need to call the other doctor for a consult.  You really should have progressed further than this by now."  At this point, the parents have gotten worried.  My mom is a great closet worrier-- my sister and I often talk about how WASPy she is (despite being devoutly Catholic), so I had no idea where her head was until she said to the midwife, "Can I speak with you outside?"  At that point, I had an inkling of worry.  Up until then, Meg and I really thought that this was just a totally normal labor and that everything was going to be fine.  Especially because everyone kept assuring us that both mine and baby's heartbeats were just fine.  

8pm:  The other doctor, whom I'd seen before during my pregnancy, comes in and checks me.  She agrees that even though our heartbeats were fine, there was some sort of unseen issue.  "During labor, it can take a very long time to get to 7cm.  But once you get to 7, it's usually less than an hour to get to 10.  You've now been at 7 for 3 hours.  Something is not right.  Let me talk with the midwife to come up with a plan."  The midwife came back in after talking to the doctor with a solemn face.  "Girls.  This is hard for me to tell you, but the Dr. has recommended that we go with a c-section."  Meg and I were both shocked.  Up to this point, we both really thought that I was experiencing normal labor and that it was just a really slow process.  I asked, "Isn't there something mid-wifey you can do?  That's why we wanted you, because of your experience and your ability to do non-surgical things to get this baby out!"  She said that her bag of tricks was only really useful when women are at 10cm, not when they have been stalled at 7 for 3 hours.  I begged her to do something-- anything-- to help me avoid the final rung of the medical intervention ladder, and she agreed that we could try a few things.  

9pm:  We talk to my parents, let them know that a C-section is on the table but not a definite yet.  The midwife comes in and asks how much I'm able to maneuver since I've had the epidural.  I assure her that I'm able to move-- and I was.  I could move my feet, lift my legs a bit, and get into a bridge position with my butt in the air.  She dropped the bottom of the bed down and told me to get into prayer position.  For 30 minutes, she massaged my hips and back while Meg held my hands.  I focused on opening and breathing and praying.  After 30 minutes, she checked me again, and instead of opening further, she said my cervix seemed to be getting swollen and closing up.  She sighed, apologized, and said we had to take the next step.  Meg and I were in shock.  When we finally agreed to the C-Section, it was around 9:30 pm.  Then, all hell broke loose.

All of the nurses started running in and out of the room.  Someone threw Meg some sort of spacesuit that she had to put on.  They gave me a mesh hat and a disgusting bitter shot of meds that were supposed to settle everything in my stomach to prevent me from aspirating in the event that they had to totally knock me out.  We had to wait for the anesthesiologist to come in, and when he got there he injected some different meds into my epidural.  I looked at Meg and asked her to go alert my parents about what was going on because everything was happening so fast.  She ran to the waiting room and only found my mom.  Apparently, my dad needed a little bit of privacy and was down the hall.  According to Meg, she and my mom waited in the hallway and watched me get zoomed into the OR.  When she tried to follow, they stopped her and said, "You have to wait out here while we're getting prepped.  We'll let you in ASAP."  She was pretty nervous about that, especially when one of the nurses ran out of the OR and past Meg and my mom.  Meg looked at my mom and said, "What do you think is going on???" The nurse quickly ran back to the OR and said, "Whoops, forgot the razor!"  

Meanwhile, I've been wheeled into the OR which is approximately the same temperature as the Arctic Circle.  Despite the fact that I can't feel my body, I am shivering and miserable.  The anesthesiologist is back, and asks how I'm feeling.  When I tell him how cold I am, he requests some blankets that they put over me.  He asked if I could feel anything, and I said, "I don't think so."  We played a SUPER fun game in which he said, "Ok, I'm going to do something to your leg, and you get to tell me what I'm doing."  I honestly felt nothing... so I said... "umm... I don't know...?  Pinching it...?"  Then, they take my arms and strap me to the table like Jesus.  And then, some really weird feeling... and I'm like, "I'm going to throw up...!"  So I say out loud, "Umm... I think I'm going to throw up..." and exactly zero people acknowledge my presence.  So I YELL, "I'M GOING TO THROW UP!" Some angel grabs a puke bag and shoves it in my face and I vom.  Very strange to puke when you don't feel it until it gets to the middle of your rib cage.  

Anyway, then they set up the "sterile field", which is total BS.  It's basically a dinner napkin held up with chopsticks.  If I sneezed, the germs would cross the sterile field.  <rolling eyes>  Not so sterile.  While everyone is getting set up and I'm getting closer and closer to freaking out, the nurse anesthetist starts chatting me up, asking about my last name, traveling, where I'm from.  Turns out he did his residency in Gainseville.  When I make the obligatory "Ugh.  I'm a Seminole", he says, "Careful.  The surgeon went to Miami."  Great.   

FINALLY, Meg is allowed to come in.  When they open the door to let her in, they tell her, "Ok.  Don't touch anything blue when you get in there." (Apparently blue = "sterile".)  So, she comes in like she's in the Matrix and plops down on the stool next to my head.  "Hey babe!  How are you?" Me:  "I threw up..."  The next couple of minutes are a bit of a blur, but they began to cut me open at 10pm.  As soon as they could see the baby, there was a collective "ohhhhhhhh" from literally everyone on the other side of the sterile napkin.  The midwife said, "Well, this baby was never going to come out the other way! It's laying with its head sideways... its ear is to the birth canal, so that's why I could feel the head the whole time!  This one had to be a C-Section!"  The nurse anesthetist lets us know that sometimes, babies born via C-Section don't cry right away, and that's ok.  The surgeon says, "Ok Meg, I'm about to pull the baby out.  You get to see it and tell Jen if it's a boy or girl!"  Meg thinks, "Oh!  Ok.  I got this!"  As soon as they get it out, we hear a loud cry, and the NA says, "Whelp, guess this one isn't quiet!"  They hold the baby up over the sterile napkin so Meg and I can both see it.  And Meg says, "It's a boy!"  There's a split second of silence, and I imagine everyone is as confused as I am because I am definitely not looking at a boy baby.  The surgeon goes "NO IT'S NOT!"  And Meg says, "Oh!  It's a girl!"  Everyone in the OR loses it.  The umbilical cord was between her legs, but it was giant.  And long.  And blue.  So the midwife says, "If that was a boy that would be a VERY large penis!" which causes everyone to lose it again.  Meg and I are laughing and crying, so excited to welcome Olivia into the world.  

Meg goes over to the other side of the sterile napkin while they're sewing me back up to check out our daughter.  She scored a 9.9 on the APGAR scale and was totally perfect.  They brought her to me so I could see her up close and it was love at first sight.  Then, more waiting as the stitching continued.  There was some conversation about a possible snipped stitch, but the midwife assured the surgeon that she didn't, and they continued on.  At some point, I looked at Meg and she said "Oh... I looked."  So I said, "What does it look like?"  Her response:  "Umm... like a piece of meat..."  Perfect.  Just what I wanted to hear!  More time passes and I am beyond impatient.  I'm starting to begin to freak out again, and so I say to Meg, "What is taking so long?"  She peers over the napkin and nods her head, saying "It's good.  They're just cleaning you up."  Me:  "What?  What do you mean?  What are they cleaning?"  Meg:  (whispering, a la "The Sixth Sense")  "There's blood everywhere".  Me:  Perfect.  

FINALLY, they are done, they wheel me out, they wheel Olivia out, and my parents get to see both of us.  My mom took some pictures, and they said "She's beautiful!  We love you all!  Ok, see ya!  We're going to bed!" Meg and I went to our room with our brand new baby and started our new life.

Whew!  What a long post.  I've been meaning to get this birth story written down for months and am so glad I was finally able to get it done!  Now, I'm looking forward to getting back on track and chronicling all our new adventures.