Dena says, "I just saw your lab test results and they're not good."
"Oh . . . Well . . . " I start making some excuse.
Dena doesn't seem to care much for my excuses. "I'd like you to come in to the hospital for a non-stress test. If it doesn't go well, you're having a baby."
Silence.
"Okay." That's all I could think of to say.
I walk over to my team lead's desk and tell him I'm going to the hospital for a test. I leave out the part about having the baby if I fail it. I'm trying to remain level-headed. It will be fine, I think. I call David and explain.
"Should I meet you at the hospital?" he asks.
"No, this is just routine. I'll call you if they want to induce me. Ha, ha, ha." I laugh sarcastically.
Four hours later, I call David.
"Are you on your way home?" he asks.
"No, we're having a baby," I say. I'm still incredulous.
Moments later, I'm hooked up to an IV. Dena thinks I have the beginning stages of preclampsia, and "it will only get worse." Because I'm technically at full term--37 weeks and 6 days--now is as good a time as any, they say. Bummer #1--I'll be induced, which freaks me out (induced=more pain). Bummer #2--I'm seriously not mentally ready for a baby. I mean, I haven't even started practicing my breathing techniques! Bummer #3--I have to be on magnesium. I don't understand what this means, but the nurses keep telling me it will make me feel awful.
Joy.
David arrives, IV starts, I start feeling tired (magnesium), but no big contraction pain. Then Dena comes in and says, "Okay, we're going to break your water."
Um, what!?!? I know exactly what that means . . . Let the pain begin. Where's that anesthesiologist!!!???!!!
Dena breaks my water, but nothing happens. No gush or anything. Odd. But then the contractions start, and boy are they killer. I'm shaking and trying to focus entirely on breathing and really wanting David to be right next to me.
"She's feeling a lot of pain," I hear David say to a nurse. It's kind of hazy what happens next, but there aren't any complaints from me when the anesthesiologist comes in and starts working his magic. An hour after breaking my water, I'm doing just fine! The only problem--that stupid magnesium. I'm so droopy that I still don't comprehend exactly what time it is or what's going on. I tell David to put in The Princess Bride (I don't want him getting bored--I'm going to try to sleep).
Soon, a nurse comes in, and she checks my dilation.
"You're at a ten!" she exclaims.
"What?!?" say both David and I. We knew what that meant--baby time! It was only 8 o'clock or so--we'd only been at this for four hours, and I was certain that it would be 12-14 hours before we even thought about pushing.
Dena comes in and starts talking about letting gravity help push baby out for a bit, and then we'll do some pushing. But then something weird happens . . . Once again, details are hazy (magnesium), but the baby's heart rate drops in half. A cloud of uncertainty descends. Things start moving fast. They move me around, thinking the baby is on top of the umbilical cord. That doesn't work. Dena says, "We've got to get this baby out, now!" (Side note: my worst fear was that when the time came I wouldn't be able to push out the baby--I had done so much research on how to push that it was almost an obsession) . . . So we start pushing. Just as Dena's saying, "I'm going to need to do an episiotomy . .. " the baby's heart rate returns to normal. No one knows why, but everyone breaths a sigh of relief.
Things slow down. Yet, I didn't care if the heart rate returned to normal. I'm going to get that baby out now! We do more pushing, and everyone is extremely impressed with my pushes. I don't know how many it took, but it wasn't long before . . .
James comes out! Born 8:34 pm, 5 lbs, 2 ounces, 19 inches long. They put him on my stomach, and all I can see is a very bloody baby. I didn't cry, which suprised me and David (magnesium strikes again). I touch James' leg and there's a clot there. I'm waiting for that scream from James to signal he's okay. . . and there it is! Woohoo! Healthy baby . . . Then there's the report from the midwife. Something about placental abruption which caused all the blood. Then there's something else about me having a tiny placenta, causing inter uterine growth restriction. Small baby, blood in lungs & stomach . . .
Finally, I get to hold James. He's got some serious old man-like features, but I'm so proud. He's SO tiny!
Then they take him to the NICU for hypoglycemia.
Little did I know that something as simple as hypoglycemia would be the catalyst that kept us in the hospital for 12 days. I never expected to have a premie baby in the NICU, and I hope no one reading this ever has to go through that--I've never cried so much and so often as during those 12 days. However, looking back on everything, we've been extremely blessed. Things happened in the best way possible, and God was really watching out for us.
It is so great to be home with our little guy. More to come . . .
Wow Emily, that is quite the story! I knew he was a tiny bit early, I knew he was little and had to be in the NICU but preclampsia? placental abruption? Intrauterine growth restriction? Hypoglycemia? You do realize those are all, by themselves, anyone's worst nightmare but to have them all - wow. That's pretty crazy. I am so glad it all worked out ok. The twins were in the NICU for a week and I thought it was just torture. People don't quite understand just how agonizing it is to have a baby there in the hospital and you, as the mother, trying to recuperate from having a baby while sitting in a chair in the NICU. All the ups and downs and fears, it is so so hard. My heart goes out to you. I can't wait to hear the rest of James' birth story.
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