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Monday, June 15, 2009

Welcome to the World, Michael Lincoln!

It was 1:34 in the morning. Dennis and I had just gone to bed an hour and a half earlier. I had to pee. Shocker. I had to pee. So, I dragged my incredibly huge, thirty extra pound ass out of bed and made my way to the bathroom, did my business and walked back to bed. WHOOOOSSSSHHHHH!! "Den, my water just broke!" Within a minute and a half my world changed. With one single sentence Dennis went from being in a deep slumber to jumping four feet in the air straight out of bed. After a quick call to the hospital to let them know we were on our way and Dennis and I arguing over whether or not I really needed to take anything (he was under the impression everything I would need was already at the hospital) we were off to have our baby boy.

By the time we were at the hospital (now 2:30 a.m.) I still wasn't having any contractions, just leaking a rather warm fluid any time I moved, took a breath and with every beat of my heart. We got checked into triage where they confirmed that in fact my membranes had ruptured. Well, no kidding. I don't think I could have a continuous stream of urine rushing out of my body for a straight hour. After showing us to what would be the room I would deliver in the doctor put in orders to try and kick my body into active labor considering I hadn't even experienced a contraction.

Enter... the dreaded Pitocin. I didn't want the Pitocin. But, considering my son was curled up in what was essentially a wet, deflated balloon I would do anything to help him see the light of day as soon as possible. I was dialated to 1 1/2 when they administered the Pitocin. Hello pain!! Contractions almost immediately every four minutes and lasting thirty seconds. Not exactly what I would call a good time, but it was bearable. Six hours later and some nipple stimulation (suggested by a nurse who looked like she was 12) I was still only at 1 1/2 cm and hadn't progressed at all. We made our necessary phone calls to Dennis' mom and my mom at 6:00. I was hoping after the most recent check they would say "ok, let's have a baby." So, I had to call them back to inform them that it wasn't happening any time soon. Doses of Pitocin is how I spent the next six hours.

By 2:00 p.m. I was only at 2 cm and not effaced any more. I couldn't keep up with the contractions, considering I hadn't slept now what would have been for 36 hours, and it seemed like the road ahead was going to be long. I asked for something to take the edge off. I got three minutes between each contraction to snooze, and by snooze I mean close my eyes long enough to dream about sleep before reality rudely woke me up again.

Four hours later my Mom had arrived, Dennis and her were enjoying their Olive Garden when my OBGYN informed me that they would give me one more dose of Pitocin, wait two hours and then consider a c-section considering I wasn't in active labor. Two minutes later the attending physician walked in with two students, checked me out and then spoke the most horrifying news of the day. "We might let you go to hour 36 as long as everything appears to be ok." YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME. SERIOUSLY. THIS IS SOME KIND OF A SICK JOKE. I started crying. I couldn't do to hour 36. Give me the damn epidural. There was no way I was going to be able to go to hour 36 with no sleep in 72 hours and push our anticiapted nine pound son out of my exhausted body. The epidural = God send. I was upset that everything I had planned for in my birthing plan didn't work out. I also wanted the opportunity to walk around freely, but the epidural doesn't allow for that. After the cathater I slept for the next six hours on and off. No pain, which was amazing. I was checked at 10:00, still no progress.

Finally at 11:30 four doctors walked into my room to discuss my options. As my OBGYN did the pelvic this look came over her face. I just remember thinking please no c-section. Please no c-section. "She's complete." I was so exhausted I didn't even comprehend what she meant. I let out a moan, you have to be kidding me. "Kim you're complete. We're gonna let you sleep for an hour and then we'll start pushing." Ok. Ok, I'm complete and I get to sleep more. Whooaaa!! I had also gotten a fever from what can only be expected to be an infection from having my water break 24 hours beforehand. Because of this I was started on an antibiotic drip and Michael would receive them as a precaution in case the infection was passed to him during delivery.

I dozed off until 1:30 when the doctor woke me up to tell me that I would start pushing with Dennis coaching me through each contraction considering I couldn't feel anything and didn't know when to push. She left. One nurse. Dennis. Myself. The nurse was a busy bee prepping the room with everything you could possible imagine. It's unbelievable that all of that shit comes out of two small closets. I was instructed to push twice with each contraction. Anyone who knows me will tell you that I like to do things well, so I pushed three times with each contraction. One hour of pushing with Dennis and the nurse and watching our son's head come and go until finally he was right there. This little patch of his head, bald and simply amazing. The nurse called for the doctor.

We spent the next 40 minutes watching his head come one millimeter at a time, and I could finally feel the urge to push which was not the intense urge I had imagined. "Two more big pushes, Kim." One. Breathe. His head's out. Two. Push hard. WELCOME TO THE WORLD MICHAEL LINCOLN BREIER!!! The umbilical cord was wrapped around his neck, but with one quick move Dr. Shepard had removed it and our boy was crying. The most amazing gift I had been waiting for for nine months was lying on my chest and crying this beautiful sound. We had this moment, Dennis, myself and Michael where it was like it was only us in the room. You wait for this moment with so many expectations and everything that happens in reality exceeds those expectations. It's nothing you can prepare for. It can be anticipated, but resembles nothing close to what you dream. I'll never forget that moment.

Dennis accompanied him over to the heat lamp while the doctors finished working on me. Michael Lincoln was born at 2:29 a.m., weighed in at 8 lbs. 12 oz and a staggering 22 inces long. He was covered in the blondest hair you've ever seen and unforgettable blue eyes. His hands and feet were larger than your average baby. In fact, his footprints didn't fit on the paper they record such things on. The pediatrician came in to take a look at him and noticed that his nostrils were flaring a bit, an indication of respiratory distress, and he also had a fever which meant antibiotics. My mom came in to see him for a minte before he was wisked away to the nursery so the doctor's could determine what treatment plan to go with. He was there for a few hours while I recovered. Oh, the pain. I wanted the epidural back. Every movement hurt. I couldn't sit down. I couldn't lay down. I had a sneezing fit which felt like, well, hell. Then I started throwing up. Again, hell. My son finally made it back to us after they moved me to the mother/baby unit. A lovely little room, with a bed big enough to share with Dennis. Lovely it was indeed. Our boy slept, and slept and slept. So sleepy. We needed it though because the next three days were spent with visitors, and nurses waking us up for various things including forcing me to force my son to breastfeed (which he was simply not going to do) and begging the doctors to let us go home.

Michael's stats were not exactly where they would have liked due to the infection we both had which meant we stayed for three days so he could receive the proper treatment and his circumsion was put off until we were out of the hospital. Let me just say this. I have never felt more like a prisoner in my entire life. All I wanted to do was take my baby home. That was it. And, they seemed to come up with every excuse as to why we couldn't leave just yet. "Oh, the doctor is in another procedure. It'll be another hour." Five hours later we were told it would be another hour. That kind of shit. Finally I had to tell the doctor we were going home unless my son was in danger of the infection getting worse. With that, we were given our discharge orders.

Dennis spent the next fifteen minutes getting our boy ready for his first car ride. He dressed him the in cutest little outfit, packed him up in his carseat and away we went. Home sweet home. How good life is. Now that he's here I can't stop staring at him. He's amazing. Definitely worth the nine month wait.

1 comment:

laura said...

Ahhhh hes here ou HAVE to post pics!!!