Is is fair to compare my initiation into motherhood to drowning?
Here's the story with intermittent pictures of an adorable baby to keep your interest.
Wed.: We go in for an amniocentesis and ultrasound and are told that baby's lungs are not even developed enough to be considered "immature." I have an emotional breakdown because I have not slept at all in four days, not to mention the fact that I had slept very little in the previous two months and had likely not achieved REM sleep during that time. I also experience my first major (and I mean REALLY major) attack of guilt as a parent when we decide that it is time to induce despite the results of the amnio because I am no longer able to deal with the sleep deprivation.
Thurs.: We go into the hospital where a dose of Misoprotol is administered to me and baby and I are observed throughout the day. Little Sir didn't like the monitors and kept kicking them off. My heart rate was high and that lead to a lot of confusion, several hours of them not letting me eat or drink, and pretty much nothing else. We are sent home with instructions to come back the next day.
I was 1 cm dilated and maybe 20% effaced.
Fri.: Back to the hospital for an administration of a prostaglandin gel. Things looked good from the nurses' point of view, I am having contractions, and we are again sent home to wait for the onset of active labor or alternately for another try the next day . After an entire day of contractions about 3-4 min. apart and strong enough to require my attention but not strong enough to progress labor, they grow weaker and weaker until I am able to fall into a restless sleep.
Sat.: I have been up walking the halls of our house for several hours when the phone rings at about 7:00 am. It is one of the nurses at the hospital. The special care nurse that was to be on duty had a family emergency, the third try will have to be rescheduled for Monday.
I don't remember a lot more about the rest of the day, and what I do remember is very personal. I will say that I now know why they call it "loosing" your mind.
I believe that God never gives us trials that are more than we can handle. He will take us right to very edge, however, to teach us about ourselves, about one another, about our personal strengths and strengths of our relationships. That day I teetered on the edge and that evening, when I was about to fall, He pulled me back, just enough.
My water broke.
Back to the hospital. I had previously tested positive for GBS so delivery had to take place within 24-36 hours of the rupture of the membrane. At last I knew when, at the longest, it would be over, and that was what I needed. I was immediately started on Pitocin and given an IV antibiotic. Throughout the night the Pitocin dose was increased and baby and I were monitored. Very early in the morning my blood pressure increased and I developed a fever despite being treated with antibiotics. Little Sir's heart beat had been rising slowly over the previous few hours and eventually had reached a rate that was concerning. The Pitocin was stopped and other measures were taken to try to bring his heart rate, my blood pressure and my temperature down.
At about 7:30 am the doctor checked my cervix. I was dilated 1.5 cm. Baby's heart rate had not dropped and my temperature continued to rise. Little Sir's condo had become unfit for habitation. It was time for him to move out. A cesarean was necessary.
Because I had an infection that was not responding to antibiotics the anesthesiologist wanted to take the unusual step of putting me under general anesthesia to avoid the possibility of seeding the infection into my spine.
I will forgo details of what I remember after that. The surgery prep was frightening. I awoke in more pain than I have ever experienced or hopefully will ever experience again. Everything after that is tinted with a drug induced fog.
Here are the important details
John Henry Edward Wright was born at 8:23 am on Sunday the 14th of October. He was a month early, he weighed an amazing 7 lbs 2.8 oz, and was 18 inches long. He was perfectly calm (according to his daddy)- making the perinatologist a bit nervous. He never did cry. His first APGAR score was a 4, his second was a 7. He breathed on his own, with no outside help, 10 minutes after his birth.
He is our miracle baby. He knew he would have to be strong and he was. We are so proud of him.
He had to go to the special care nursery to be monitored and treated for possible infection. It was hard to see all of those cords and especially the IV attached to him, but it was amazing to see how healthy he was under such unfavorable circumstances.
We all went home, happy and healthy three days later.
The Chorea I was suffering from resolved about 80% upon removal of the evil placenta from my body. It was enough that I didn't feel I needed to take a medication that is not compatible with breast feeding and I am instead using a less effective medication, but with the lessened intensity and frequency of the movements, it helps enough that it only rarely interrupts my sleep. I'm probably the only new mother who is getting more sleep after delivery than before. I am feeling a lot better.
Little Sir, the Duke, the Duchess, and the Queen, who is still staying with us for a few more days, are all doing well. We are adjusting to waking periodically throughout the night to the cries of our little pterodactyl. We are all in love with this little bundle, and really who can blame us?
I will try to increase my posting frequency as I get feeling better and get better rested.
Thank you all for you support, prayers, and concern. We are so happy to be through this part of our introduction to parenthood and are looking forward to the rest of it with optimism.