Lazy Posting

Lucky, A Birth Story in Two Parts (II)

There is this medical myth that second births are faster and easier.  In the grand scheme of things, yes, this one was "faster" but I would never call it easier.  I shared his brother's birth story earlier and now this one for comparison.

I realised as I was writing this that while I use nicknames for my boys, I had not selected one to use for my husband.  To make things simple, I'm using his STEAM handle which fans of the series "Song of Ice and Fire" (or watchers of HBO's Game of Thrones) will recognize.  Just to add to our nerd-score, my handle happens to be the reply.

Nerdy names aside, here is my second birth story:

On the Wednesday before my second little boy was born I had my regular OB visit and discussed my on-going issues with labor being unproductive and the signs of muscle damage in my hips and lower body as well as the continued stress on my kidneys making me weaker.  I was still at just under 5cm according to my OB when he checked and swept membranes again, sending me home with instructions to keep up the walking and allowing me to try anything and everything if it could help break my water or get things moving.

That night, just as we were all settling in to bed for some rest, my water decided to break.  After having to mop up the mess all over the bed and struggling into clothes without waking the sleeping nearly three-year-old it was time to go. I left Valar home with the sleeping toddler and had my mother drive me in with a plan for her to trade with him and watch the little boy once they confirmed this was the real thing.

We arrived at a little before 11:30 at the hospital, meaning I knew we would be having a baby on Beltane (Mday Day for those not familiar with year wheel celebrations). After navigating the world's worst parking garage and improper signage, we the triage department for the maternity ward as my contractions increased from an annoying cramping to drastic squeezing of my innards, making me sure that we made the right call about it.  The nurses hooked me to the monitor and we all watched my contractions at a steady 5 minutes apart and about a full minute long with a healthy dose of "Why am I doing this again!?!"  

And so it went until the attending arrived.  She nicely watched my contractions, asked what made me think my water broke, looked thoroughly squeamish when I mentioned that I was being intimate when it happened - did she not know how the baby got in there to start with - and said she wanted to do an exam.  After finding fluid she said she still doubted my membranes had ruptured because many women mistake loss of bladder control for their water breaking.  I assured her it was not my bladder, but she seemed to have a low opinion of my ability to tell the difference.

Then she went a step farther in being thoroughly inadequate in her diagnosis by saying I was just over 3cm, then seeing that their own hospital OBs had been the ones to do my last exam she said she'd leave it to what he had stated.  At that point she informed me that while they could see I was indeed having contractions and feeling something distinct, she felt I was not really in labor yet or only the very early stages if this was labor.

Curbing the urge to hop off the bed and throttle her as she told me I was not even in labor while mid-contraction... I asked her to simply humor me and she agreed to let me wait a while and see if the contractions did indeed progress things.  My desire to kill reduced greatly once she had exited the room and the nurses were again commenting that from everything they could see in my monitors, this was indeed labor.  Unfortunately, when two hours later I had only progressed a tiny amount that same attending tried to send me home because she did not feel it was safe to follow the advice of the supervising doctor from my OB's office about giving me pain medication and a sleep aid to allow my body some rest before needing to work even harder while pushing.

About the point that I was struggling to pull on my pants while trying not to scream from contractions every three minutes, my husband wisely dragged in another nurse in the midst of their shift change and explained that if they were serious about discharging me he wanted both a wheel chair to bring me to the car and the name and number of the best person to call while filing malpractice against the hospital for their behavior.  At this point the nurse, now with the fear of legal action, went back out and returned with another nurse and MY doctor as he had just come in for the day shift.  He assured me that he was not allowing them to send me home, pointing out that had the girl called him as directed he would have told her to admit me and do the transfer from the triage section into a progressed delivery room so that he could have a more experienced doctor doing the care until he arrived.

I was then moved from the initial room to a delivery room with a birthing tub, yoga ball, and far more comfortable bed to rest between what was now a routine of contractions every three minutes. My new nurse assisted us over and assigned husband to run a warm bath in the birth tub as I had expressed in my birth plan how that was the preferred location for my labor.  After another check from a doctor with more than half a brain we were vindicated with the news there was just a pin-prick hole and the baby was pressed tight against it but that they would open it a tad more once I was ready to move to the tub so things could progress.

Having had such an easy first labor, it was a shock to my system when we could hear an audible crack as the bones in my hips and spine suffered with each contraction.  After getting in the tub with my first son, there was such relief and quick progression.  It was exactly what I needed to relax, to allow the steady ebb and flow of contractions in waves, and to reduce the pressure from all the weight and muscle movement.  But unfortunately there is one saying about pregnancy and birth that IS very true… “Every birth is different.” 

Valar puts up with much of my complaining.  He's held my hand through two long pregnancies, and I adore that he has learned to read me so well over our years and can see when a migraine is coming or I need a break because the long term damage to my knees is getting to me. But when even he finally had to excuse himself to go have a cigarette and even cry a little to shake off the concern from my whimpering and howling at the pain in my spine and legs... it is fair to say that something was very wrong.

I would have stayed longer in the water if the intensity and frequency of these contractions hadn't been causing me to slip down into the tub as I started to pass out. The bed was safest this time and I'm thankful for it. Once there, it was easier to focus on breathing and using my mind to overcome the pain.

I asked for something first just to reduce the edge and make it tolerable to ride out without being so aware of how badly my bones were grinding and the least amount of interference with the baby's heart rate. That worked for perhaps ten minutes before I was back to having to bite a pillow to stop the howling and my body fought itself.

Finally it was my nurse who called in the attending and told him point blank that even she was uncomfortable with the level of pain I was putting myself through after all our other complications this pregnancy. He stayed to watch through two contractions before telling me he felt it was time to do something to both push the progression (fourteen hours of active labor at that point and only a single centimeter) and reduce my suffering. Within a few minutes the team was setting up for an epidural even knowing my scoliosis might be problematic.

I am thankful the anesthesiologist was so skilled and steady, placing her line even as my body decided to challenge her with only a two minute window between contractions that lasted nearly as long. After that it was so much calmer. I was quiet and mentally unclouded enough for us to sit and discuss with the doctor about all our options which lead to a safe, healthy birth for our little hobbit baby.  By sixteen hours of labor, I was exhausted mentally and physically.  I wanted it to all just be over. Valar wanted it to be over. Even the doctors must have wanted it to be over as they willingly listened to my concerns and questions if a c-section would be needed based on heart rate for myself and the baby.

My doctors listened kindly, agreed to see how soon there would be a surgical room open as we all felt the baby had been stressed enough and my body was beginning to suffer too.  As they left the nurse reminded us to call for her right away if I felt any change as I had just reached 7cm and with my eldest, all that was required for me to move from there through transition and into birth was the "effort" of standing up after a trip to the toilet.  It took perhaps ten minutes for me to ask Valar to call the nurse back in as I felt a touch of pressure.

I wish I'd been holding my camera at the moment she lifted the blanket to look.  The jaw drop and look of shock told me more than her rush to the room phone to call in my attending.  It was time and Valar just smiled and took his place next to me, holding my hand and grinning.  Since the epidural was doing a good job of dulling the contractions, I was able to resist the urge to push until the were all prepared.  This time took far more pushing as he was much larger, but as they lifted our little boy onto my chest and he opened his big blue eyes for the first time, I was so happy just to make it through all the challenges of this pregnancy and birth.

Epidural is not a dirty word.  Pitocin, though I feel it is used too frequently, is not a dangerous chemical.  In my case, these were the tools that lead us to another calm birth rather than a dash to the operating room or another baby born on a bathroom floor. I may have had to request pain medication and required the use of Pitocin to alter the progress this time around, but I am very happy to know it was possible at all.

Our mutual recovery from this experience has been much slower physically.  I required stitches which I promptly managed to rip open upon getting home and returning to being Mommy to a toddler and never stopping for long.  I had bruising at the spot where my epidural was placed and where one of my IV lines had blown during the first attempt at pain management with Nubain while in labor.  Over all, things have been slow but no more problematic than any fatigued life with a new baby.

The little Hobbit Baby did require a short trip to the hospital's NICU on his second night as he had tried to inhale while still in the birth canal and swallowed fluid and blood.  His lungs required a round of oxygen therapy and antibiotics to fend off infection.  He is on a vitamin D supplement to combat jaundice and steadily gaining weight perfectly.

Dear Samwise,

There are not enough words in any language to tell you how very much I love you.  Instead, I hope this letter and your name can do that for me if I am not able to do so myself.

Two days ago your grandmother made a cute and happy comment on facebook about your name.  She and I could never have imagined just how many ignorant little trolls would crawl out into the darkness of the internet to feed their need to call me names for that choice.  By the time you are old enough to read this I expect facebook will be pop-culture history and seem pointless and silly.  But tonight it has me thinking about your life, past and future.

By the time you can read this there is a good chance you know what kind of scary complications my bringing you into this world has involved.  No, this pregnancy has not been easy on us both but it has also been such a blessing.  Just weeks from your original due date and I am painfully aware there is still the chance that something could go wrong and I will not live to ever hold you in my arms or see your tiny fingers and toes.  So instead I want to tell you how much you mean to me.

Bringing you into this world is the most terrifying I have ever thought about doing.  Understand it will always, ALWAYS, be the very best thing I have ever done.  You are my light when all other lights have gone out. Knowing the reality of just how deadly the complications can be and how risky the treatment could be to you if I was selfish enough to take an easy escape.  Knowing you had less hopeful odds than a coin toss in surviving through to the "safety" of twenty-six weeks and yet, and then crying with joy when we could still find your heartbeat at thirty weeks.  You faced more darkness and danger than all of Mirkwood before you had lungs to even chance a first thin breath.  

My boy, my tiny hero, you are already ten times the man anyone in a story or behind a computer "shield" will ever be.  For you, little Samwise, the fires of Mount Doom will mean no fear and nothing but triumph; your long journey home is nearly done and the rest of the world who must cast off their burden of ignorance, anger, and hopelessness while you bask in a warm glow of love from the family that cannot wait to meet you. If the coin toss lands against us and I cannot say it in person, please let these nerdy words do it for me.

You really are the best of us, little Samwise. Your father and I made a choice of name for you out of so many "normal" or "unusual" options that we felt means something more. When the rest of the sworn fellowship gave up, betrayed their vow, or turned to gather glory and crowns in other battles, it was the "half-witted" gardener that dreamed of a happy life back in his shire hobbit-hole who instead carried his friend through to the end.

Your father and I had a choice, take advice of experts to end this pregnancy so you would not suffer, or carry on to an early delivery and maybe lose you along the way.  Little Sam, it was you who carried me when the days were longest and I was most afraid.  You are already more amazing a person than half the heroes in the world, and you have yet to see the sunrise for the first time.

If people are cruel to you about your name, do not get angry, feel sorry for them. I could have called you any of those “normal” names like John, Jeffery, or Ted… but that never seemed to be the cause of problems for Gacy, Dahmer, or Bundy when they became cruel men making horrible choices.  People were clueless about their nature and sometimes cruel to them as well, and it while it did make them bitter and bad it had nothing to do with their names.

Let the ignorance of others roll off your back like water on a duck.  Be the kind of man others want to call a friend.  Be a friend to others when they need one most and remind them there is so much good in the world.

Samwise, you are already a more amazing person than any one word could express or encompass.  You are my greatest achievement and I am so proud to be your mother.  You will do great things one day, I have no doubts about that fact.  I know there will be times you feel like giving up, or “hate what we did to you” by giving you this name.  But you are not just a boy with the name of a brave little hobbit who went off to war and came home to be the happiest and most celebrated of his village… you are my son and I love you.

You are also the last child I will ever have, the last baby born to this branch of the house “Martell”.  As another well known writer used that name for a royal family, he also gave them words that are perfect when this letter is not enough.

Unbowed.  Unbent.  Unbroken.

Remember who you are my little love.  I will not promise it will ever be easy, but you are more than up to the task.  As a person who grew up with a name most of her teachers could not pronounce and a nickname that everyone spelled wrong and related to a novel about a prom night gone bad, a name that is different just makes it easier to tell who those around you really are inside.  Even before you take your first gasp of air or cry for your first meal, you have done so much and been so strong.

I love you Samwise,

With all my heart.