One of the most important things you will ever do as a mom is give birth to your child. After 9-10 months of growing another human being inside you, the time has come to bring that little person earth side. It's a very special, emotional time for most of us because all of those anxious filled months of preparation and anxiety have come to close and you finally have to overcome the pain of your body stretching and pulling and pushing. For the rest of us, complications arise and can be present in both pregnancy and birth. Some with happy endings and some, well...
My first pregnancy started in June 2010. I had only been married 3 months and was excited to start this journey as a wife and mother. The first couple of months were OK besides normal fatigue from being pregnant, working, and suffering from Fibromyalgia. (Which I don't have anymore. Funny how pregnancy can do that.)I did end up quitting at 14-15 weeks though because my fatigue got progressively worse. I went to monthly prenatal check ups, getting more and more excited with every visit, but nothing but a high white blood cell count showed up and was immediately written off as a common illness. Around 19 weeks is when Braxton Hicks started, but I thought nothing of it because that was normal. At 23 weeks we found out we were having a boy and almost immediately decided to name him Ein Zeno Gabriel.
I was in love. I fantasized about my new mom life. The memories we would make, the moments we'd have. I wanted it all. In reality, it was slowly slipping away. A couple weeks after our gender reveal is when we started to get worried. Contractions were always intense but irregular and my fatigue and turned into an all out food aversion. I craved fruit and vegetables but couldn't stand the smell or taste of meat. Being that I am already beef and dairy-intolerant, it didn't leave me with a lot of options. There was also dizziness and headaches among my many pregnancy symptoms. Every check-up though, I was fine.
At 27 weeks I was pale, tired, irritable, and hungry. We had just moved into an apartment with an extra bedroom for the baby so I was anxious to set up a nursery. All that week though, all I wanted to do was sleep. Saturday, November 13, 2010, the last day of my 27th week, I could not get comfortable. My stomach hurt, my back hurt, I had a headache, I was bloated. "Maybe I had too much dairy today..." I thought. "I just need to lay down." I couldn't get comfortable either so on and off through the night I would soak my aching body in a warm bath. It relieved my back and hip pain and allowed me to sleep for an hour at a time until it hit 6am.
Sunday, November 14, 2010 at 28 weeks gestation: 6 am rolls around and I am crying for lack of sleep and pain relief. I keep telling myself and my husband it's only gas and my Fibromyalgia acting up. I'm fine. I finally call the nurse hot line for my doctor and am told to take Tylenol for the pain and if that doesn't help then to go to the E.R... I took the Tylenol and fell asleep for another hour or so. I think by the time I wake up again it's 7 or 8 am. I can't take it anymore. I am throwing up, my body is pushing, my emotions are extreme. Something is wrong, I think this is labor. We call hubby's mom to take us to the hospital. It's the longest time in my life. I feel like I'm dying. I am dying. I crawl on all fours to the bathroom while my husband yells at me to get up. I can't, I just want to sit, to squat. Why is my body pushing? His mother gets us and I can barely walk to the car. Every speed bump and pot hole tries to break me. I can't even breathe.
We finally get to the E.R. entrance and my husband grabs a nurse and wheelchair while I bellow out the door to "hurry!" Funny how when I get into the wheel chair I suddenly relax. I can breathe a little better, not too deep, but I can smile. I get to a room, am examined in mid-contraction and am told that I am 7cm dilated. SAY WHAT?! How? I'm only 28 weeks. "This baby is coming, it's too late to stall. The bag is bulging," says the doctor I've never met. My contractions come back strong and mingle with my shock and fear and leave me hazed for the rest of this. Well, the drugs do. I remember her breaking my waters, the most relieving thing, and then almost immediately I'm at a 9-10 cm dilated. I've had no drugs, still throwing up, and they've got me signing paperwork and poking needles in all at the same time. I'm not sure where my husband is or what's going on around me. I know I was yelling so loud that some doctor guy opened the door and yelled at the nurses to "Sedate her so she can quiet down." Whatever they gave me left me feeling like a shell. I had no emotions but I knew I was scared. Not feeling is worse I think.
I was wheeled into the O.R. with my husband and transferred to an operating table and had my knees thrust into my stomach and was told to push. I couldn't though, I felt weird. I couldn't breathe, I was bewildered at what was going on still. I kept saying I can't breathe, I need oxygen but they kept telling me, "No you don't, PUSH!" I would say I couldn't and they'd yell louder. So I yelled at my husband to hold me up but he just stood there, shaking. After a few threats of surgery I finally collected my thoughts and grabbed my legs. I felt nothing. No more contractions, no fear, no happiness, but having a purpose cleared my mind. I pushed, and pushed.
Then I was prepped for surgery. I'm not sure why but I think baby got stuck and vitals were dropping. My husband was all but pushed out the door and I was suddenly left alone on the table, holding on afraid I'd roll off. The doctor kept yelling for her team to get it together so she could deliver the baby but all I heard in the background was laughing and talk of family holidays. I felt exposed lying there and would try to cover up only to be told to lay still. Finally, the anesthetist arrived and put a gas mask on my face. I fought for a second because of impending vomit, but soon lost.
I don't know really know what happened next. I know the baby was born and sent straight to NICU because of how early he was. I knew what he looked like because of pictures but didn't get to see him until later that night. My nurses wheeled me down the hall to where the NICU was so I could see him. As they rolled me in, I looked anxiously for him. Which one was mine? It was quiet, like it should be, but the air was melancholy. As my nurses parked me in front of the incubator, I began to cry. What happened? What did I do to him? I failed. I did something to make this happen! I didn't want to be there. I wanted to leave. All I could say was how sorry I was. I would make this right.
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