4/21/2018 0 Comments Final PostI haven't updated my blog in quite some time, but I wanted there to be some closure. Shortly after my last post, I wound up in the hospital with a kidney infection. It was terrifying. I had reflux where my ureter was pushing my urine back into my kidney and some other possible condition that I can't spell or remember the name for. We were in the hospital for 4 very long days. It took more than two days for my fever to break. It was absolutely terrifying to think we had come that far and it could've all been over. After that incident, I was very tired all the time (hence no blog updates). I had to take an antibiotic for the duration of my pregnancy and we were told I was at a higher risk to deliver at any moment. Panic and excitement had set in.
At 36 weeks and 5 days I got up in the middle of the night and went to use the bathroom. When I came back to bed a gush a fluid came out instantly. I had peed myself. I was starting to get worn down. Luckily, I have no dignity anymore and tell people everything. A co-worker had told me I should call the doctor because that's exactly how her water broke and I should call the doctor. I had tested positive for Strep B so I was advised to call the doctor anytime I thought my water had broken as I would need antibiotics ASAP. I called the doctor and they told me to rush over. Alas, my water had not broken. At 37 weeks and 4 days, I had my check up. I wasn't really dilated -- all seemed well. At work that day I stayed late to finish some reports in the event I had the baby over the weekend. For some reason I even sent them to my supervisor -- just in case. That night I was extremely restless and was really starting to wonder how in the hell I was going to make it 2 more weeks. I tried so hard not to complain and be grateful for every moment of pregnancy, but I was hitting a wall. At around 3am (I believe it's been a while so details are getting fuzzy), I got up and went to the bathroom. As soon as I laid in bed a gush of fluid came out. I started crying unsure of how long I could keep peeing on myself -- especially in bed in the middle of the night. But wait...more fluid gushed...and more. I took my phone and ran to the toilet. I told Matt, "I think this is really it. I think my water broke." I called the doctor (while still gushing fluid on the toilet). I had to wait for them to call back. The doctor told me it sounded real and to head down. I wasn't feeling any contractions but I needed the antibiotics. We grabbed our bag. I changed my pants and put on a pad. Within minutes that pad (the heavy duty over night pads) was soaked as were my fresh pants. I put on another pad and again within minutes that one was toast too. Before we headed out the door, I grabbed some towels for the car (yes more than one) and put on a new pad that was soaked again in no time. We rushed to the hospital with excitement. IT IS REALLY HAPPENING! I was so excited. I got hooked up to my IV and was ready to go. Contractions really never set in for hours. We walked around the hospital, watched TV, and waited. Risk for infection increases after 24 hours of your water breaking. I was starting to get nervous. I was still shocked by how much fluid would randomly gush out. On TV it seems like one big gush and that's it. It happened t me for hours. They even did an ultrasound to make sure I didn't have too much amniotic fluid. Who knew that was a thing? I didn't by the way--but it still just kept coming. The doctors and nurses would come by and check periodically. At one point the doctor said the lady next door was in the same boat. I was trying to not worry. On one of our walks around the hospital we were coming back to our room. A dad to be came out of the labor room dressed for surgery and was crying. He banged his head against the wall a few times and went back into his room. At that point I realized there was not a single medical professional to be found and it was so quiet you could've heard a pin drop in the hallway. Panic had set in. This is the woman who was in my boat earlier. Eventually they decided my cervix needed some helping out so I took some medication orally to try to thin my cervix. A few hours went by and not much progress was made. I was having some contractions. They eventually gave me a second dose orally. Because my water was broken they could not administer the medicine internally for risk of infection and because the water would just flush it out. Again, after hours of waiting not a lot happening. We decided it was time for medicine to induce bigger contractions. The nurse we had was ok, but socially awkward. She was nice enough. But before we had the pitocin started she gave me a lecture about my anxiety. I guess she read my file. She kept telling me how anxiety is ok (although it felt very much the opposite the way she was talking about it), but that I would need an epidural. I would be able to handle the contractions and because I have anxiety I would worry too much. I had been against an epidural unless I really needed it. So now SHE was in my head. I'm already in my head enough most of the time, but now there's a third party telling me I can't do it either. Matt had been so wonderful (as usual) through all of it so far. The contractions started. At first they were okay. At some point I decided Fentanyl was going to be nice. So I had a dose of that. Then it wore off and I had another. Then SHE came back into my head. "I can handle these contractions now...but what if they get worse? What if it takes too long for the epidural to kick in and I die from pain?" etc... So I asked for the epidural. At this point we had a new nurse who was an angel. I mean really..I'm not even sure if she was a real person or just an angel sent to my room specifically for me. She could not have been better. We went for the epidural. The anesthesiologist was so nice. He talked me through every single thing that was going to happen. He was funny and had my kind of sense of humor. I was shaking. I'm not sure if it was the drugs or the anxiety or just being in labor or all of the above. But when I say I was shaking I mean it may have looked to a bystander as if I was having a seizure. I was thinking about the dad-to-be from earlier. I was getting nervous that something bad would happen. I sat hunched over with this man who was about to put a giant needle in my back. He told me what to expect before he did each step again. Suddenly I felt a large gush of some fluid running down my back. He did not warn me about this. Everything was quiet. Once it was all done he explained that he punctured my dural. He explained it all, but I wasn't taking in anything he said. My legs were so numb. I'm not sure if this is what it's like with a regular epidural, but I was freaking out. If someone touched my leg I couldn't feel it. When I touched my own leg it felt like I was touching a raw steak in the fridge. I was not connected to the lower half of my body in anyway. Anytime I saw someone touch my legs I had a full blown panic attack. Anytime I accidentally touched my cold, raw steak legs I had a full blown panic attack. I was not in a good place. I finally fell asleep. The nurses would come and change my position from time to time again inducing another panic attack each time. I was not prepared. At some point 30-ish hours later there was a shift change with the doctors. The doctor that was leaving said I was at 5 centimeters and she seemed to think we would make it to a vaginal delivery EVENTUALLY. I was starving, tired, in a constant state of panic. I was thinking about how we were well past the 24 hour mark. I was thinking about the couple next door (which we did learn at some point everyone was ok). I did not want anything to happen to my baby. I had too much experience with things suddenly taking a turn for the worse. I knew how fragile this baby's life could be (and mine) and it only takes a second for everything to change. I asked for a C - Section. Going into this I absolutely did not want a C Section. I wanted some part of my experience to be natural and not require medical intervention. I thought I would be devastated if I had to have a C Section. But at this point, I just wanted my boy to be healthy. The doctor did not seem to agree. Luckily, the new doctor on shift popped in about this time. I told him what I wanted. He took the other doctor out in the hall and came back in and told me I would be having a C Section. THANK YOU. He was about to go in to do the first C Section of the morning but told me he would try to push the other one back so I could go first. A few minutes later we were prepping for the C Section. I was a little nervous, but mostly extremely grateful that this would soon be over. There were approximately 100 people involved in a C Section. I was glad for the birthing class we took or that may have been overwhelming itself. They had to prep me and then Matt could come in. It was the first time I was alone without him. I was getting nervous but I did some grounding exercises. "The wall is white, the ceiling is white, EVERYTHING IS WHITE." Ok that wasn't working. I tried counting. Occasionally, someone would ask me if I was ok. Yes. Stop talking to me..trying not to freak out over here. When they put the drape up it was practically laying on my face. That made me feel a little claustrophobic. But Matt was by my side so I knew I would be ok. Thanks to my spinal anesthesia I felt absolutely nothing. Didn't even feel the pressure they warned me about. I wasn't connected to my lower half at all -- which in this moment was relieving. Then I heard Matt say, "There he is!" I cried. Here he is. Then I got to see him and hold him. I couldn't believe it. There are no words for those emotions. I'm tearing up just thinking about it. He was so perfect and precious. He was so alert. He had so much hair. It did not feel real. They took him to be cleaned up and do all the other things with him while I was also getting sewn back together. Matt left the room at that point. It felt like a long time before I got to see him again. I couldn't believe how bad the smell was when they were putting my insides back together. One of the nurses was literally on her first day of the job so I got to hear them explain every single thing to her. I was also kind of shocked by the casual conversation they medical staff had while I was still laying there awake... We got into our new room. When they brought the baby into our room I recognized him as mine. I didn't think about that but I had only seen him for a few seconds but as soon as I saw the top of his head I knew that he was my baby! How cool is that? I couldn't move or feel my legs for a long time. Then the reality of having a hole in my spine was setting in. If I stood up or sat up it was the most unbearable pain. I kept trying to convince myself I was getting better. We ended up staying 5 nights and 6 days in the hospital. Everyone kept trying to get me to do a blood patch. It's essentially where they take blood from your body and put it back into your spine (another epidural) and hope the blood seals the hole. There are risks involved (shocker). They could puncture another hole and then I would have TWO holes leaking cerebrospinal fluid (CSF). There was also the possibility that the blood patch wouldn't even help. We could wait a week and the headache *should* be gone by then. But it might not. I felt like everyone was pressuring me except the anesthesiologist. He seemed apprehensive to even do it. When a professional is apprehensive the patient is immensely apprehensive. Another anesthesiologist came later to talk to me again. She was wonderful. I think I cried. I think she cried. She promised my next delivery wouldn't be like this (if only she knew). She even went to the gift shop and bought me some really expensive chocolates. She also seemed apprehensive and said it would be better for the other one to do it since he knew my back. Oh I left out a minor detail. The anesthesiologist had explained that there are 3 reasons this happens. One is because the person moves. He felt like I was perfectly still and that wasn't the issue. Two is because the anesthesiologist goes too fast. He felt like that wasn't the cause either. And finally, the last reason is because the person has a difference in their spine. GREAT. I'm certain my back is weird and that's why it happened (why would my body ever be right -- leading to my serious pause for not wanting the blood patch). The next day the third anesthesiologist came by to talk to me. I was a wreck. I told him I thought I was better. I mean I was able to take part of a shower. That's progress, right? I should mention there was lots of crying on my part during this time. I felt like every time I cried the medical professional in the room took note. I kept thinking "Great, they're already labeling me with PPD." The lactation consultant was the worst. Not only that but she seemed to always have a student with her too. I felt like I was pressured into the epidural and that went south and now I'm being pressured into the blood patch--surely that will go wrong too. At one point, I took a shower just to have a place to hide and cry. I cried a good long cry in the shower. I repeated my favorite mantra "I'm a smart, strong, sensual woman." I felt much better. I decided to do the blood patch. They came and got me almost immediately after I made my decision. When they wheeled me down to the room for the procedure I thought I would die. I could not believe my head hurt so much. I had been confined to laying on my back for days. I only sat up to use the bathroom and take the two showers I attempted. I even had to nurse on my side. Matt even fed me while I was lying on my back (for days!). I realized I made the right decision. No way I could've made it to the car -- much less went home and taken care of a new baby. It was still terrifying. I was shaking SO bad. I can't even describe how badly I was shaking. Again there were about 5,000 people in the room. This is a very rare procedure so I think they got every medical student from everywhere to be in the room with us. I had to pee. Of course I had to pee. They tried to get me to pee in a bed pan but I couldn't do it. Apparently I do have some dignity left. So I hobbled to the bathroom with no grace whatsoever. They had to take blood and maybe do an IV. I can't remember now. I just remember that for the one billionth time in my life my veins failed me horribly. Blood was everywhere and it took two people to do it. I think I forgot to mention that I had to have 3 different IV's during labor because my veins suck that much. I had to hunch over a table with a rolled up towel. I dug my fingers into that towel so hard to try to stay still. I don't think I've ever experienced such deafening quietness. There was so much tension in the air. The nurse asked him a question in what seemed to be an attempt to break the tension. The anesthesiologist didn't answer her which made me more nervous. Later, Matt told me he was shaking his head no at the nurse. But, in just a few seconds it was all over and everything went smoothly. I had to lay on my back for several hours to let it set, but after that I felt like a new person! The next morning we were free to go home. I've heard women on the other side of infertility say they were grateful for their infertility. I would always read that and say "There is no way in fucking hell I will ever be grateful." But, here I am on the other side... I did feel grateful so many times. When I was hospitalized for the kidney infection I was so grateful. I was already prepared and understood how delicate life was. I think if I hadn't been prepared and truly appreciated how delicate life is I would've been way more terrified. When I had to undergo 4 million procedures to figure out what was wrong with me when I wasn't responding to the antibiotics I kept finding gratitude for IVF preparing my body to be a pin cushion. In fact, I was literally eating breakfast while they were drawing blood at one point and I owe it all to IVF. When I was in labor and things weren't going well, I was prepared. I think until you experience something really not going well you can't know how you will react. You can't know how it feels. But now that I've experienced the most important thing in my life not going well I am stronger. When they were trying to convince me to do the blood patch one doctor said, "After everything you've been through what's one more God Damn procedure?" Touche. I went several months with practically no carbohydrates. I can do anything, right? I am grateful for my infertility. I am also grateful for our botched delivery. It sounds like a terrible thing to spend 5 nights and 6 days in the hospital. But our little turtle had a terrible latch and lost quite a bit of weight. We got extra time with the lactation consultants! That was priceless (unless you're an insurance company--then there is definitely a price and it's not cheap). Plus, we got extra time for him to sleep in the nursery! WOOHOO! I miss that nursery now :) I used to absolutely loathe people when they would tell me "it will all be worth it in the end." I used to want to say back to them, "Yeah..well fuck you and your opinions." Why? Because I never knew if it would be all worth it in the end. There is so much uncertainty. Even while pregnant it never felt real. Truthfully even in the hospital it didn't feel real. For pretty much the whole time we were in the hospital I kept having this fear they would take him away and tell me he wasn't mine. Even Matt said it felt like we were borrowing someone's baby. I still have moments when I look at him and I can't believe he's all mine (well and Matt's). But everyone was right. It is SO worth it. Worth every penny, every butt shot, every blown vein, every appointment, every everything. But I solemnly swear to never tell an infertile woman, "It's so worth it" because I've been there and I know how 110% of the time you aren't sure if it will be or not. I feel like infertility made our marriage stronger. We already figured out communication issues and compromising. I feel like we are such a great team. It makes me so happy that I get to raise this baby with the greatest man I could have ever imagined. Don't get me wrong. There are times when I'm tired and frustrated and have no clue if what I'm doing is right or wrong. I have moments of sheer panic. But somewhere deep down inside, I feel like everything will be ok. So this is the end of our journey to start our family. "At last, my love has come along. My lonely days are over and life is like a song."
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Heather Joyce
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