As of Monday, my boobs are bigger than Quinn’s head.
I’d like to take a moment and pause to thank Mother Nature.
Not only for the miracle of being able to keep my child well fed (she’s already above her birth weight!) but for giving me the best rack of my life.
Is this thing still on?
I have been thinking about how to start this new post and really, the whole story of how Quinn made her grand entrance and it overwhelms me so I am going to try over the next week or so to put down the details here for my memory and to share with friends and family who I haven’t had a chance to talk with one on one yet as we’ve been so busy and so very tired and so very much in love with our beautiful little baby. Nomming baby cheeks and legs is tough work, ya’ll.
So, here we go.
Friday, December 18, 2009
Despite the fact that this day was the day before Quinn’s due date, I had no physical signs that she was on her way until the evening when we went out with my family to celebrate my dad’s birthday. I was feeling nauseated and my back was achey and my digestive system was all out of whack leading us all to believe, “The Samurai is on his or her way.” However, despite an evening of ick, I took a shower, got some sleep and found that I felt perfectly fine the rest of the weekend.
Monday, December 21, 2009
The morning routine started business as usual this morning except I noticed that I was feeling crampy in my abdomen and my digestive system (aka: POOP) was again suggesting to me, “Hey, this baby could be on the way soon!” I spent the entire day feeling like Aunt Flo was knocking on my door instead of a baby at my cervix. “It’s great news!” my co-workers exclaimed! They started taking bets on how soon the Samurai would arrive. I still didn’t believe it would be until after Christmas so I was still making plans of being at the office, enjoying the holiday at home with family and praying we wouldn’t be going back on the 28th. I still felt cramps off and on all day and by the evening I had a feeling we were experiencing pre/early labor.
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
At 1a I was woken by a strong contraction. Excited (but zonked) I grabbed my iPod and turned on my Hypnobirthing affirmations to help myself go back to sleep. I also grabbed my stopwatch to time the contractions but was so tired couldn’t stay awake long enough to count consecutive ones. They weren’t bad so I ended up sleeping a bit that night waking hourly from 1a to 7a to work through the contractions. I let the Robot sleep knowing that if we had to go that day I needed my birth partner to be rested and ready to go.
I took my ball to work with me to help keep things moving along in the right direction (keep the pelvis open and help baby down) and had good contractions the entire day — so much so that a few were good enough to stop me in my tracks to breathe them down and wait to move again. I think L&C was afraid the Samurai was going to pop right out but I assured her that since I was wearing jeans, my pant legs would catch him or her in the event.
She didn’t find this all that funny.
My co-workers still commented telling me “This is good!” and hoped they wouldn’t see me the next day. By 4p I was exhausted, uncomfortable and tired of the question, “WHEN ARE YOU DUE?!” That I told my boss, “I’m done with today. I’ll see you tomorrow.” And with that I grabbed my stuff and headed home to try and relax until the Robot arrived.
As the evening wore on my contractions grew in intensity, frequency and length.
Thursday, December 24, 2009
By 3a the Robot had been timing my contractions and while they were still pretty irregular, they were strong enough and almost consistent enough that we were sure we should be heading in to get checked at the hospital. By this time my contractions were so strong and they were radiating all over my back to the point where I couldn’t breathe them down without the Robot pushing with all his might against my low back. I considered that the baby might be sunny side up but then remembered that you can feel surges in your back and wrote it off.
With that we called my mom who came by to pick up Vinnie and wish us well on our way. We were exhausted and excited, nervous and ready to meet the Samurai. I walked through the emergency room doors and leaned against the cool brick wall as I dealt with a contraction. I was put in a wheel chair and whisked up to the 9th floor where I then proceeded to lay my head on the cool formica of the check-in counter while the Robot did all the talking. They took us to Triage, put me in a gown and insisted that I lie down while they listened to the baby’s heart tones and looked at my contractions for 20 minutes. I knew we were in for the longest 20 minutes ever because by this point I couldn’t stand to go through a surge without the Robot’s hands pressing all their might into my back. I laid on the table miserable, listening to my affirmations, waiting to be digitally checked for dilatation.
“You’re 2 cm and 80% effaced,” the nurse said. The Robot and I looked at each other in shock. This couldn’t be. These were surges that were ready for real labor. They were strong, they were getting closer and lasting 1 – 1.5 minutes in length.
It was 6 am. We were exhausted. We were crushed and drove home to try and rest up before our 8:30 appointment with the midwife. It was a miserable feeling.
At 7a the Robot was catching up on sleep and I was on all fours moaning through each surge and then pacing the house to work through them in the in-between times. Our appointment had to be moved back as our MW was up all night attending a birth and wouldn’t be in the office until 11:30. I called my boss, told her I was taking the day off due the the night’s events and that I would probably have the baby over the weekend, that I’d keep her posted.
We drove to the office. I looked like a homeless person wearing mismatched sweats, the Robot’s North Face jacket, my hair was matted and sweaty. We sat in the waiting room just long enough for me to have a surge and cause the woman on the other side of the room to ask the Robot, “Is she okay?” “Yes, but she’s in labor” he replied.
The MW checked to see if I had progressed (I hadn’t) and offered to stretch my cervix and strip my membranes if they hadn’t already loosened up. So she took me from 2cm to 4 and noted that my membranes were super thin and that I had lost my plug so she prescribed a light sleeping pill so that I could go home and get some rest and said, “We’ll see you in a couple of hours at the hospital.” Wednesday afternoon continued to press on with heavy back labor, an hour nap which abruptly ended in a major 2 minute surge and then in a dinner with my parents who were kind enough to spend hours with us feeding us, rubbing my back and helping us to push on with early labor.
Neither of us had gotten more than a couple of hours of sleep since this all began and we had to keep reminding ourselves that each contraction brought us closer to the end and we stayed motivated.
By 4a my contractions were lasting 1.5 to 2 minutes still, back labor, and irregular contraction intervals but they were coming, on average, 3-5 minutes apart. By the time we arrived back at the emergency room we were certain we’d be admitted. Again, we were whisked up to the 9th floor, led to Triage and monitored for 20 minutes. The nurse did a digital exam and informed me that I was STILL 4 cm and only 80% effaced. We looked at each other with disbelief. I looked a the nurse and said, “I’m not going home.” She offered to let us stay and walk around and that she’d check again in a hour to see if there was progress. The Robot took my hand and we slowly started walking the halls, pausing every few steps so that I could lean into the wall and press my back into his hands. We’d do a lap, go to the room, I’d do squats, the Robot would give me affirmations, rinse. later. repeat.
At 5a the nurse returned, checked me and told me that we were at 5-6 cm and were being admitted. We were so relieved I exclaimed, “PRAISE BABY JESUS” and then cried because we had done it, this baby was coming.
Once in our L&D room the Robot went back down to the car to grab our bags and I got in the shower to help deal with my surges in my back. I was feeling good despite my back and was ready to get into the hard work. By 7a our midwife arrived and walked in with our nurse and asked if she could examine me. I told her yes and laid back on the bed. The response from the MW was not what I expected. “You’re still only 4cm.”
“I’m sorry, what?…” and then a contraction came on and I had to flip myself over on the bed to deal. I screamed for the Robot to push on my back which prompted our nurse to comment, “She has back labor.” I explained that that was the only labor I was having and I knew the look they were giving me wasn’t the one I wanted. And this is when our morning went from wonderful to the most trying day of our lives.
The Samurai was posterior or “Sunny side up.” When babies move into position within the pelvis for birth, the back of their skull faces the front of the woman’s pelvic girdle and the baby’s soft face faces the tail bone. Sometimes, however, like the Samurai, babies turn and their faces and turned towards the front of the woman’s pelvis which leaves their skull to press against mom’s tailbone with each contraction causing the excruciating pain each time the bone meets bone. So, in an attempt to turn this baby we started with positioning.
I was laid on my belly on the delivery bed with my right leg extended straight out behind me and my left was lifted up and open by a stirrup. When you’re experiencing back labor, women will tell you the most comfortable way to work through a surge is to do so on hands and knees or leaning up over a ball on the bed, the back of the bed, etc. As I lay there trying to breathe through each contraction, wondering how long I had been in that position I remember thinking, “This is what torture must be like.” Eventually (45 minutes later) our nurse came in and said I could get up. I had a surge again and still felt it all through my back. She suggested we try the other side and begin pitocin to see if we couldn’t turn the baby and make process in dilatation. And so I drew in a deep breath, laid down on my belly with my weight mainly on the left side, left leg straight out and right leg propped up in the stirrup. The nurse started the pitocin drip at a level 2. I made it through about 10 minutes of stronger and closer contractions (Thanks, Pit!) until I started to sob uncontrollably.
“I can’t do this anymore,” I cried.
The nurse said that was okay. That we could try a new position, me sitting on my ball lying over the bed side with my Pitocin drip turned up to a level 3. I labored like this for an hour. After that hour I was checked and still hadn’t progressed. Again, the nurse turned up my Pitocin (to a level 4) and again I sat astride the birthing ball as the Robot pressed my back, reassured me this would work while I mooed out my pain into the bed pillows with each surge. Once more the nurse came to check me and reported there was still no progress.
I was beginning to feel defeated. Our midwife came into the room shortly thereafter and said, “I know you don’t want an epidural but I think that if we give you a low dose it can help you to relax through the back labor, that your pelvis can open up and we can break your water and try to manually turn the baby. The baby is so low at this point, if you could just dilate it would slide easily out. Think about it, I’ll be back.”
When she left I looked at the Robot. “I have to do this,” I said. As disappointed as I was, to have endured all of those hours in the L&D room plus all of those hours previously at home and work with back labor, I hated to “give in” and take the epidural. But, I thought to myself, if this allows me to have a vaginal delivery then fine. I was assured I could deliver upright and that I could still do everything else we had wanted (breast crawl, skin to skin contact) and so I made peace with the decision and the anesthesiologist was brought in.
Remembering the epidural insertion process as discussed in our last Hypnobirthing class, I prepped myself, laid over the table in front of my while my midwife stroked my hair. The process was quick and painless (outside of having to sit still through surges) and soon I was on the left side in the bed with pillows between my knees marveling at how strange my lower body felt. I could still move my legs, my feet but they felt heavy. In this moment I thought about how this was the first time in 4 days that I didn’t feel miserable. “Good grief this was easy,” I thought as the nurse turned my Pitocin drip up to 6 or 7 (the details are a bit fuzzy on the specific number at this point.) I waited an hour until the midwife came in to say that things were more consistent with my contractions due to the Pit (which is good for making progress) and that she wanted to check me and break my water. As she inserted her fingers to feel the cervix she noted how the bag of waters was “hour glass” through the cervix (still stuck at 5cm). She said she barely touched it and it broke. It felt like I had peed myself. She then rolled me to my back where she inserted 3 or 4 fingers to grab the baby’s head to try and turn it.
“Holy shit,” I thought. I can’t imagine what this would feel like if I didn’t have these drugs. She couldn’t turn the baby. She also said that I was beginning to swell as much time as the baby’s head had been pressing against the cervix. She left the room and shortly thereafter returned with an OB introducing us. I don’t remember exactly why she said she was there but I do remember the OB commenting, “Tell that baby that if he or she doesn’t hurry up, there’s a doctor out here with a scalpel.” Because I didn’t quite understand I just nervously laughed and waited for her to leave. By this time Chris’s sisters had arrived and wanted to say hi. Seeing as this wasn’t anything like the labor I anticipated and since I was feeling nothing I invited them in. I explained how the Samurai was sunny side up, what we were doing to try to progress and how it would definitely be born that day. The midwife came back in the room and told the girls she needed to speak with us and if they’d mind stepping out. I had sinking feeling.
Dr. Sloop has offered to take you into surgery now if you guys would rather not wait this out. The Robot and I looked at each other and shook our heads. “We’ve been at this this long, why would I just take the easy way out?” “She just wanted you to know your option,” the midwife said. “Well, I don’t appreciate the way she was speaking when she was in here earlier,” the Robot shot off. “Doesn’t she understand what we’re trying to do?” “No,” the midwife replied. “She’s an OB and thought she was being funny. She didn’t mean anything by it, she’s a great doctor and trust me, I wouldn’t just say that, she really is great.” “Well, I’d appreciate it if she didn’t come back here,” the Robot said. The midwife explained that we still, after 10 hours of being admitted into Labor and Delivery, had made no progress. She told us we had two options. The baby’s heartbeat was dropping slightly with each contraction (the Samurai was in stress but not distress) and that we could turn the Pit up to 10 and wait one more hour to see if anything happened, that the baby’s head was in transverse arrest and that if nothing changed, a C-section would be in order. She said she’d leave to let us talk.
I looked at the Robot and broke down. “I don’t want to do this,” I heaved. “I am so scared.” I could tell he was starting to cry too. I started to pray, begging God, the baby, anyone to please turn. Let me do this. That I had done everything I can, just give me this one request. The Robot left the room to ask more questions. When he returned we both had another good cry. At the end of the hour the midwife returned and sat on my bed. “There has been no progress,” she said. “So that means we have no other options?” I asked? She shook her head no. I lost my shit. Chris lost his. The midwife leaned in and held me as I sobbed into her blue scrubs. “You’ve done everything you could to delivery this baby,” she said. “You’ve done everything but pull it out yourself, you should be proud. I have never had a patient work this hard – ever.” She explained that they’d be in soon to give me the full blown epidural and that my mother-in-law, mother and my sisters-in-law were in the hallway, did I want them to come in? “Fine,” I said. The Robot kissed me and told me it would be okay. The rest came in the room and stood around the bed as I cried into my mom. “I’m so scared,” I told her. “It’s okay honey, you’ve been so brave,” she said stroking my hair. You’ll go in and your baby will be out soon and we can all celebrate.” After I was shaved and prepped the OB came into the room and spoke with us and while I don’t remember what about exactly, I do remember her asking me if I was a person of faith, “Yes” and we all held hands as she led us in prayer.
After that my bed was wheeled out and into the surgery room. The lights were bright and there was Christmas music playing from a stereo. I have never had any kind of major surgery before and Chris and Michelle hadn’t scrubbed up yet so I was alone as the anesthesiologist poked me with a needle asking if I felt anything. “No,” I replied. My legs felt like they were 3 feet wide and filled with lead. The curtain was drawn up and the Robot took his place beside me, our midwife armed with out point and shoot camera and our Flip video camera beside him. Within 10 minutes (or so it felt) the OB announced to the midwife “Nuchal Cord”, and then, “It’s a…” waiting for the Robot to look and shout out the baby’s sex. “GIRL!” the Robot exclaimed. She was held over the curtain for me to see, screaming her head off and then whisked away to where the Robot followed to touch her and to make sure she was okay. When she was wrapped up he came back to the table where I lay and laid her next to me. She was quiet and calm, her purple little hands stroking her face and her mouth working in a suckling motion. She had a head full of hair and was so pink and cute. We lay there and both cried. “She’s Quinn” I said. “Yes, that’s what I thought,” the Robot said. “Does this baby have a name?” the OB asked from the other side of the curtain? “Quinn Olivia” we said. “Quinn,” she mused. “I knew a woman named Quinn and she was the nicest most generous lady I ever knew.”
Surgery was finished and I was wheeled into the recovery room. Quinn was brought in and laid in my arm. I kissed her fat face and cried. The Robot came in and was followed by our family. We were a family. Finally, we’d met our baby Samurai. The little girl we named Quinn.
This isn’t the story I ever imagined I would write. I saw myself coming here to tell you about our zen hypnobirthing experience, how beautiful the city lights looked from our labor and delivery room and the amazing strength of my husband as he supported me on zero sleep for so many days leading up to the birth of our daughter. I knew our birth vision wouldn’t be followed 100% but I had no idea just how much we’d deviate from that plan — that our daughter had plans of her own for how she’d arrive in this world. That God had to be looking out for me in her delivery method with all of the odds stacked against her little life.
I’ve spent the last few days grieving Quinn’s birth. And, while I know that we fought our asses off to bring this girl into the world naturally, vaginally, in a way similar to the way we wanted (despite all of the modifications and interventions) and how I felt robbed from that experience due to situation 100% out of our control. I was brave, I have to remind myself. That there are few women so strong and committed to a labor as long and as painful without pain medication. That together the Robot and I exhausted every single option available to us, options that we chose and felt empowered to make even though they were nothing that we had originally wanted. That I was lucky to have chosen a midwife who I knew I could trust, who allowed us to make the informed decisions but provide guidance so that we were always acting in the best interest of our child.
And so, ’twas the night before Christmas and our family went from two to three. Last week was the longest of our lives but ended so beautifully with such a precious child who is healthy and thriving – I couldn’t have asked for a better Christmas present. To say that we are blessed seems so cliche and like such an understatement but we are. We’re the lucky ones who get to nibble baby cheeks, bury our noses into her fuzzy little head and snuggle her when she’s wrapped up tight like a baby burrito.
It’s been one hell of a journey these last 10 months and as that chapter ends, I can’t wait to see what the future has in store for us, for our family and our darling little Quinn.
After 42+ hours of labor with a posterior baby, Samurai Strong made her appearance.
Say hello to Quinn Olivia Strong.
Thursday, December 24, 2009
5:55pm
7 pounds 10 oz
21 inches
one head full of dark brown crazy hair
We are exhausted and have a birth story that, omg you guys. You’d never believe.
I spent all day yesterday with what felt like the beginning of a visit from the period fairy. Except I haven’t had a period in over 9 mos.
I spent my night being woken up by contractions but I was too tired to stay awake long enough to consistently time them until about 6a where I successfully timed two that lasted about 40 seconds and happened within 10 minutes of each other. Then the husband left for work, took his iPhone and also the app I had been using to easily time those contractions.
Now I’m here at the office with a watch, a pad of paper and a pencil trying to ignore the fact that I am a) out of gas b) it’s snowing c) I am afraid I might throw up into my desk trash can.
I have nothing to do today but fart around on the Interwebs and determine if going to water aerobics tonight is a good or bad idea.
I think these are all pretty great things.
Hi folks.
I feel like I need to disclaim some all of my whining since last Monday.
I really feel okay. I feel great actually (grrr) aside from the occasional cramps and tiredness and the fact that wearing shoes that tie is pretty much something I’ve tried to avoid now for a month (lest the Robot is home to tie my shoes and put on my socks).
I have had an easy peasy pregnancy (praise the sweet baby Jesus) and as of 1:09p today I’m still feeling like a million bucks – my gripes reside in the fact that a) I want this baby to be out because I hear they are so much cuter on the outside than on the inside and b) I want to know what this baby is.
Part b is the kicker. And, if I had to do this all over again I still wouldn’t find out because at this point my mood is up, up, up with the fact that we have a freaking awesome Christmas surprise lurking right around the corner. It’s like those blind-boxed KidRobot toys that the Robot and I like to pick-up from the local record store. Except in this case it’s not just a cardboard box and some foil wrapping between me and the surprise inside it’s a few (I’m being positive) hours of hard labor and THEN we get to see what the prize is.
OMG ya’ll. Baby. We get a baby here soon and it’s the soon part that’s toying with my patience. I want to know! What did we get!? Does it have hair?! Chris’s nose? My lips? Did it get a penis or vagina? I got questions and don’t get them answered till this kid picks a date!
This baby is officially the hardest thing we’ve ever had to be patient for. Well, maybe this kid and the kitchen, but whatevs. You get the idea.
Present.
In other news I’m enjoying the shit out of all foods I never touch or only touch rarely. I’ve been so good this whole pregnancy I’ve allowed myself these last few days to accept all food offers. Peanut brittle? Don’t mind if I do. Cupcake AND gelato? Why sure! You’d like some mozzarella sticks with that pizza? YES! However I did feel guilty at dinner the other night and subbed spinach for the regular french fry side but whatever.
Yesterday was my dad’s birthday. We had plans to go out to dinner and celebrate. About an hour before we were to leave I started to feel unwell. My back was killing me and my stomach was upset. I spent the entire dinner not hungry (though I managed to eat my meal, I don’t know how!), still with a sore back and, as the dinner went on I managed to welcome cramps and diarrhea to the party.
I was hoping against hope this was the beginning of the end (or the beginning?) but alas, a hot shower, some stretching and lying down totally made me feel better.
And so we press on. No labor, no baby. Yet.
So we finished up the Samurai’s room a little over a week ago when we hung the pictures over the dresser and put up the last tree that we so quickly destroyed when we started putting them up a few weeks ago. And again, I apologize for my shit photography. The daylight hasn’t been enough to work with in the afternoon because the room faces the west and so I had to resort to a tri-pod and then half-heartedly fixing the color.
If I could have you all over for a tour, I totally would.
Yes, I’m posting twice in one day. I’m hoping that typing this out will take it out of my brain so here goes:
My “due date” is Saturday. I fought this date the entire time swearing up and down that I don’t think 40 weeks hits until 12/27. However, this reasoning has totally escaped my brain and I’m all, “GET OUT, GET OUT, GET OUT!”
I don’t know if it’s just me or the flocks of people who continue to ask, “You’re still here?”
I’m tired, ya’ll. I don’t want to be induced, I want this baby to come on his or her own terms, but I just wish those terms were like now rather than whatever later date this kid has picked.
I need distractions — please advise.
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