The Arrival of Gardner Preston Wilson....
My Birth Story
My due date was Friday, September 24th. The last 2-3 prenatal checkups I had showed no progression toward labor to speak of….I had not dilated any, and I was about 60% effaced at my last check-up. The baby had dropped halfway down, to -2 station. I had become increasingly uncomfortable due to the more frequent bathroom trips, lack of quality sleep, heartburn, and backaches.
On Sunday the 19th, I noticed that the type of backache I had been dealing with gradually changed. We ate lunch with my parents, and while there, it became very uncomfortable to sit in any one chair for longer than a few minutes at a time. I tried leaning and lying down as well, and nothing would help the pain subside. It was high in my back, near my kidneys, so I thought nothing of it.
I stayed home from church Sunday night since I was unable to sit up for more than a few minutes at a time. We borrowed some heating pads from a neighbor and I used them 15 minutes per hour on my back (as the pregnancy books directed). Those didn’t even touch the pain.
On Monday, I still had a moderate backache with severe sharp sensations every few minutes. Nothing could make me comfortable! I tried to get my mind off of it by busying myself with household tasks, taking care of last-minute details I had neglected.
Finally, about 4:00 Monday afternoon, I decided to lie down and rest. I laid down on the bed and tried to doze off, but kept having shortness of breath. I felt as the baby was pressing his feet over and over into my lungs, a sensation I was used to, except this was much stronger. I pressed my hand to my abdomen and gasped at what I felt….it was rock hard! Maybe these were the start of contractions. I kept still and about 7 minutes later, it happened again. My back had excruciating pains for about 30 seconds, and then it felt like a pocket of gas as the pressure slowly radiated toward my front, making my abdominals tighten. I timed the next few, and they varied between 6-7 minutes apart.
Ken arrived home shortly after that and I told him what had been going on. He told me we’d keep timing them and see if any activities I did made them lessen or stop (meaning they were simply Braxton-Hicks, or false, contractions). We had a date to eat dinner with his parents, brother, and his wife, so we went on. I was feeling the tightening and radiating pain all throughout dinner. I was not hungry, so I just picked at my food and ate very little. Immediately afterward I went and crashed on the couch, and by the time 9pm rolled around, I was ready to go home (I was in so much pain!).
We began writing down the exact times of each contraction that evening, and by 1:00 am Tuesday morning, they were about 5 minutes apart. We called the obstetrician on call at my doctor’s group, and he said that with a first baby, the contractions needed to be stronger and 3-4 minutes apart, otherwise we’d be sent right back home from the hospital triage unit. We kept timing as he’d instructed, and soon Ken was sound asleep. I let him sleep (since I knew he’d need the extra reserve!) and I kept timing until about 2:30….still 5 minutes apart.
I drew a hot bath and got in to soak. The pain was lessened by the warm water and I didn’t want to get out. I proceeded to time the contractions after I got out and settled back on the couch….watching Lassie and other “comforting” things on TV to get my mind off of it all. I finally dozed off and slept a couple of hours.
About 5:30, I woke up to more intense pressure and tightening. I timed them until 6am, and they were consistently 3-1/2 minutes apart. I went to wake up Ken and we discussed our options. We decided to get things together, pack the Jeep, and call the doctor’s office at 8:30 when they opened to see if I could come in to get checked. When we did, the nurse told us to go to the hospital’s admitting immediately; it sounded like the real thing.
We got to the hospital, totally expecting just to turn around and go back home. The 3rd floor was bustling with activity, to say the least. It looked like the set of “ER!” There were women coming in behind me, nurses running frantically to and fro, and the nurse’s desk looked like the floor of the stock exchange, phone cords stretched all over the place and clipboards being handed off from person to person.
We handed our admissions form to a strangely calm and comatose nurse at the end of the counter. She walked me over to another nurse and asked her, “Where will we put this one?” Oh, no, they were running out of rooms already? They put me in a closet-sized room with just a cabinet, gurney, and monitoring device. She asked me for a urine specimen, and so I walked around the corner to the bathroom. Ken waited outside the door. As I was in there, I heard a woman pass in the hall who was moaning very audibly. Ken said later he hoped I wouldn’t hear that! Turns out, we found out later that she had come in at 8 cm dilation and was about to give birth on the EMS’s stretcher! It added to my anxiety, but I did not freak out, thank goodness.
Back in the assessment room, I put on one of those horrid hospital gowns (5 times too big!) and they strapped the contraction and heartbeat monitors to my belly. Soon the contractions’ peaks and dips showed up on the screen above me, and Gardner’s heartbeat filled the room. The nurse checked and said that I was still not dilated, so she doubted I was really in labor. “But I will go get Dr. Hearn just in case, and he may want to see you anyway.”
Dr. Hearn was the only one of four OBs in the practice that I had not seen nor had I even met. I had no idea what to expect. The contractions can be seen via computer at his practice (which is only about 3-4 miles down the road), so he would assess me from there.
About 20 minutes later, he came into the room. He looked vaguely familiar, but not what I’d had pictured. He said the computer connection had been sketchy so he decided to come in himself to watch the monitoring. He pulled up a stool and began to ask us questions about where we were from, etc. He was very talkative and noticeably a genius. He had a serious demeanor yet he still made subtle jokes and smirked a little at them. I felt a little more at ease as the session dragged on.
He began to notice that my contractions were not as regular as they had been, that they were varying from 3 to 6 minutes apart. He began to tell the nurse to get me a robe and that we would need to walk the halls for a couple of hours to see if things progressed any, seeing as I still had not dilated. Well, that was more than I had expected to hear.
As soon as he was wrapping up his instructions, he became gravely quiet and watched the screen intently. “Hold on a second.” He pulled the printout and stretched it across the room, eyeing its patterns closely. “I notice some deceleration in the baby’s heartbeat after each contraction, and I want to make sure that it is not a fluke. I’m going to watch it a little bit longer before I let you go.” He sat down again and began to explain the reasons why this might be happening. In my case, since it was obviously happening after the contractions (a few seconds after), he said it might be that the placenta was starting to tear away early (placenta abruption). Or it could be that the cord was being compressed in some way.
He called the nurse back and the two looked over the last three contractions that I had and the effects it had on Gardner’s heartbeat. I had noticed that the rate dipped from about 147 to about 127. “That may not be a significant amount to you,” Dr. Hearn said, “but believe me, I know….that is a significant drop.”
After a few more minutes of uncomfortable silence, he suddenly got up and walked over to me, while waving off the nurse. “Yes, this is looking spooky. I don’t like the way these decelerations are looking. We’re going to do a c-section.”
The words hit my ears, but did not sink in. At first, for some odd reason, I expected him to break out in a loud laugh and say, “April fool’s! I’m just kidding, girl. Go home and come back in 12 hours.” But I quickly realized he was serious. How serious? I would soon find out.
Within 3 minutes, 3 more nurses entered the room. One began a barrage of clipboard questions (Do I smoke? Have I had chicken pox? Am I allergic to anything?). Another drew my blood. Still another arrived from the nursery and put a plastic bracelet to my arm (totaling 3 now) with pink and blue bears on it. A nurse trainee (of all things!) arrived to put in a catheter (all I will say is OUCH!). Ken sat there, wide-eyed, as shocked as I was that it was happening so, so fast. He grabbed my hand and began to tell me everything was going to be just fine. I was strangely calm. I know it had to be God who gave me comfort and bravery during those tense moments.
I sat there and slowly realized, like a warm, sickening wave of acknowledgment, that my entire birth plan was going out the window of that 3rd floor. Everything I’d hoped, planned for, and prepared myself mentally for was scratched, and I was left with mere minutes to reevaluate and accept this new turn of events.
Another nurse came in and took off my jewelry; another, my nail polish. I had an IV put in with saline fluids and something to “make me relax.” My blood pressure was taken about 4 times in 15 minutes. Another nurse entered to draw blood out of my arm (I was so used to that procedure by that point, I didn’t flinch).
I turned toward Ken and tried not to cry as I asked him to please call my mom. He did and I could sense her immediate stress as he relayed the details. She was on her way. He also had time to leave a message on his mom’s phone and call his brother before the moment to leave arrived.
They put a gauzy cap over my hair, and a nurse came in to get Ken to change into green scrubs. He looked so cute in them, I must say! He even had the sterile blue cap to boot. As they turned the gurney towards the door to wheel me into the OR, he grabbed my hand and said a quick prayer for me and Gardner. A lump rose in my throat when I saw the way he looked at me. I could see past the façade a little bit and saw a little bit of true concern for our welfare. Yet I was still quiet and resolved as I left the room.
Just like on television, I watched as the fluorescent lights overhead passed by one by one. The twists and turns were so fast I couldn’t tell exactly where we were on the floor….I remembered how to get to the OR because of the tour we’d taken in Lamaze….but this time I think other corridors were taken as shortcuts….I was so lost.
Soon we entered through two enormous double doors. I saw a nurse standing at a large metal sink with a mask on her face, scrubbing in with that colored soap. Then through two more doors that were held open. Immediately I sensed a 15-degree drop in temperature. The nurse steering me warned me that it’d be very cold in the OR, and she promised blankets as soon as I was settled.
They wheeled the bed over to the operating table, and with some help, I shimmied over to get onto it. I took a few moments to glance around the room….a pale yet vivid yellow room with very bright lights all over, two very large ones immediately overhead. I looked at all of the equipment that stood in every possible space. I noticed there were four or five nurses already in there, standing in groups, masked, talking quietly while waiting for things to begin.
A smiling-eyed nurse peered over on top of me, and introduced herself. I can’t remember exactly now what her title was, but I think she was some sort of liability nurse as well as a monitor…she kept close track of my blood pressure, heart rate, sensitivity, and also kept me posted as things went along. She was very cheerful and very soothing.
Suddenly there was a flutter of activity behind me and I overheard two nurses telling Dr. Hearn that Dr. Baker, the anesthesiologist, hadn’t gotten there yet. Evidently she had been paged both to the OR and to a room of a woman dilated to 4 cm to administer an epidural. “OR takes precedence….why did that happen?” Dr. Hearn asked calmly but firmly. Two nurses went scurrying off to try to find her and pull her in. I could tell the situation would become graver as time ticked on; he was anxious to get things moving. And I was, too….pretty soon I knew that they might just put me to sleep, because they’d mentioned the possibility of that earlier. I did not want to have that type of recovery, and I most certainly did not want to be unconscious during the birth of our son!
Dr. Hearn told me to go ahead and sit up on the table and place my feet in a chair beside it. Not too easy to move around when you’ve got tubes and wires stretched all over your body! The nonchalant nurse who’d first admitted us came over and stood by me. Her attitude was lighter now; she began to share her birth story with me of when she had her son. She answered the many questions I had about what things were, etc. as we sat there waiting.
“Someone’s here to see you,” the nurse said. I turned around and saw my mom in the doorway. She looked at me like I was an injured animal, with a pitiful expression on her face. I tried to look happy and excited, but I know that I looked fearful, too! She said she loved me and that she’d be waiting just outside in the hallway.
As she walked off with a nurse, Dr. Baker came through. I could barely recognize her with the mask. Just so happens that she was the anesthesiologist who delivered the presentation in our Lamaze class. She came over and introduced herself, and was very calm despite all of the miscommunication she had been dealing with.
Dr. Hearn turned me toward him and told me that getting a spinal block was a piece of cake compared to getting an IV put in. He told me to take several deep breaths, and to put my head over onto his shoulder. Dr. Baker rubbed an extremely cold iodine sponge all over my lower back; I jumped! Dr. Hearn put his hand on my head and began to whisper that it would be no time at all and I would be feeling “fantastic.”
“A little prick,” Dr. Baker said behind me. And it certainly was nothing more than a little sting like from a shot. Only about 30 more seconds passed and they were done; it was in, and I didn’t even feel a thing. How awesome. Within 30 more seconds, I felt as if someone were pouring very warm liquid into my chest and below….a warmth quickly radiated downward. They helped me turn around and lie back down, and as I did, I realized that I was already tingly.
They pulled up my hospital gown and a young nurse began to shave my belly with a wet razor. Dr. Hearn stood to the side and began to direct each nurse to a task. He seemed so laid back and calm as he served as overseer of the whole endeavor; it put me further at ease. The nurse behind me put a blood pressure cuff on my right arm, and laid it across the little platform beside me (though I wasn’t strapped down to it, which surprised me). She put a heart rate monitor on my index finger. I looked up and saw a monitor showing my and Gardner’s heart rate. I had no idea how his heart rate was showing up on there, I couldn’t figure it out!
The nurse then placed oxygen into my nose and told me that it would help his heart rate stabilize, and also help to calm me down. She then went on to say something about studies showing that oxygen lessens the risk of infection after surgery, but I was only half paying attention! I do remember thinking that the plastic tubing smelled like a new Barbie doll!
The nurse began to test to see how numb I was. She had a cold alcohol pad and touched my arm with it. “Cold?” she asked. “Yes,” I said. She touched my belly with it. “The same cold?” “Yes.” She touched my arm. “Cold?” “Yes.” She touched my belly. “Cold?” Hmm. Not really. “No, it’s not anymore.” That was all it took. The blue drapes went up, and my other arm was put on the platform. The nurse put an inflatable warm air blanket over my arms and chest, and my shivering soon stopped as I warmed up.
I looked back and saw Ken entering the room. He rushed over to me and grabbed my outstretched hand. He told me to look at his eyes and focus on him; that we’d see our son soon! I remember looking back at him and asking, “Are YOU okay?” I knew he sometimes grew faint in medical surroundings. “No, I’m fine. You don’t worry…”
I laid there and watched the room’s lights, trying to stay still (not that I could’ve moved if I’d wanted to!!). I began to wonder, “When will they get started?” I felt my body rocking back and forth a little bit, and I felt as if I was on a ship. I could see the blue drapes shifting as I was moving. I still thought they hadn’t begun by this point….but all of a sudden, I heard suctioning noises fill the room.
“Oh, he’s almost out….I hear suctioning!” I told Ken. I remembered from watching countless c-section births on Discovery Health Channel. I knew his birth was seconds away. “Focus,” Ken said. I was not scared anymore, though. I began to smile for the first time that day.
Suddenly I heard someone say, “Here he is!” Ken looked up and saw the doctor pass him on to the pediatric nurses. I didn’t see him at all…. I was disappointed because I thought they’d show him to me over the drapes, but they didn’t. I suppose they were concerned about his breathing and being okay. Within one minute, they called Ken away and he went over to the little cart where Gardner was laying.
Within a couple of seconds, a wonderful cry filled the room. It was a high, squeaky cry, and the most beautiful sound I had ever, ever heard. I started crying as I listened to those sweet screams! The nurses all came over and said congratulations.
After about 2 or 3 more minutes, Ken came back over and sat down by me, and the nurse followed him with little Gardner in her arms, swaddled and so little! I couldn’t hold him yet, but I was able to bend my arm and rub his little cheek with my finger. He laid there so peaceful in his little blue and pink cap. We both watched him in awe until the nurse told Ken to follow her to the nursery. “You’ll see each other again after she gets out of recovery….” Ken bent to kiss me and then I turned to watch him leave. Alone again, but not sad. I was a new mom.
While stitching me up again, Dr. Hearn commented on how small I was to have just had a baby! He told me I did great and that everything turned out fine. Within 10 or 15 more minutes, they were done. The drapes were taken down, and Dr. Hearn bent down to tell me congratulations and well done. He looked as relieved as I did.
A male nurse arrived with a gurney to take me to recovery. He and three other nurses grabbed the corners of the sheet I was on and lifted me onto it. What a weird sensation….wow! I felt as if just my upper body was being moved. I felt as if the lower half of my body were totally gone. I could see the form of my legs under the sheets, but could feel nothing.
As they wheeled me out, Dr. Hearn stood by the OR doors and dictated the surgery details into a yellow telephone (I suppose for transcription later). I remember him saying something about a cord around Gardner’s neck, and about having to use a vacuum to get him out because he was so wedged in. He also said that he suspected partial placental abruption. I was again consoled that the right decision had been made.
I was in recovery for about 1-1/2 hours. It was a long, very 70s-looking room with bed beside bed beside bed. It was about half full, with new people coming in and old ones leaving every few minutes. Scott and Beverly, my two nurses, came over and checked me. Scott got ice chips for me and began to put them into my mouth….I was extremely thirsty. They both then checked my incision and then pressed on my abdomen for a few minutes. Not the most comfortable feeling in the world, for sure.
They asked me to wiggle my toes….I couldn’t! I even scrunched up my nose as I tried my hardest, but the neurons just wouldn’t fire and make them move! It was truly an out-of-body experience as I laid there and felt no sensation or movement from the mid-abdomen down. Even after they left to check on other patients, I still tried to move, and no luck. I found it kind of funny and remember laughing….probably the medicines talking.
While waiting, I talked and talked to the nurses about our new little son and how we picked his name, etc. I felt as talkative as I did after my wisdom tooth surgery, but more “with it” in my mental state. They placed very warm blankets over me and said they needed to get my temperature back up; it was 95.4! My blood pressure was in the low 80s over 60s. They watched me intently, but soon things leveled out and they seemed more at ease.
About 2:00, the nurse finally said I was moving okay. I was told to move my knees and thought for sure that I was not moving them (I couldn’t feel that I was). But to my surprise, when I looked down, they were moving! That was the green light to go to my room. Soon the postpartum nurse, Lori, came and checked me (pressed on my belly AGAIN) and said I was ready to go.
Wheeled through the halls, I saw so many people step back and wait as I passed….visitors, no doubt. They had smiles on their faces, and I wondered if they even knew that I had a baby (I wanted EVERYone to know!).
I was in my room by 2:30, and saw all of Ken’s bags and my purse. But where was Ken? The nurse went to find him for me. He was sitting in the nursery rocking Gardner, and had been for over an hour. He was certainly the smitten new daddy. As he entered the room, smiling, and presented Gardner into my arms for the first time, all I had been through suddenly paled. I laid there in awe as I felt this little breathing creature in my arms…..he was really ours….and he was really here at last!
My Birth Story
My due date was Friday, September 24th. The last 2-3 prenatal checkups I had showed no progression toward labor to speak of….I had not dilated any, and I was about 60% effaced at my last check-up. The baby had dropped halfway down, to -2 station. I had become increasingly uncomfortable due to the more frequent bathroom trips, lack of quality sleep, heartburn, and backaches.
On Sunday the 19th, I noticed that the type of backache I had been dealing with gradually changed. We ate lunch with my parents, and while there, it became very uncomfortable to sit in any one chair for longer than a few minutes at a time. I tried leaning and lying down as well, and nothing would help the pain subside. It was high in my back, near my kidneys, so I thought nothing of it.
I stayed home from church Sunday night since I was unable to sit up for more than a few minutes at a time. We borrowed some heating pads from a neighbor and I used them 15 minutes per hour on my back (as the pregnancy books directed). Those didn’t even touch the pain.
On Monday, I still had a moderate backache with severe sharp sensations every few minutes. Nothing could make me comfortable! I tried to get my mind off of it by busying myself with household tasks, taking care of last-minute details I had neglected.
Finally, about 4:00 Monday afternoon, I decided to lie down and rest. I laid down on the bed and tried to doze off, but kept having shortness of breath. I felt as the baby was pressing his feet over and over into my lungs, a sensation I was used to, except this was much stronger. I pressed my hand to my abdomen and gasped at what I felt….it was rock hard! Maybe these were the start of contractions. I kept still and about 7 minutes later, it happened again. My back had excruciating pains for about 30 seconds, and then it felt like a pocket of gas as the pressure slowly radiated toward my front, making my abdominals tighten. I timed the next few, and they varied between 6-7 minutes apart.
Ken arrived home shortly after that and I told him what had been going on. He told me we’d keep timing them and see if any activities I did made them lessen or stop (meaning they were simply Braxton-Hicks, or false, contractions). We had a date to eat dinner with his parents, brother, and his wife, so we went on. I was feeling the tightening and radiating pain all throughout dinner. I was not hungry, so I just picked at my food and ate very little. Immediately afterward I went and crashed on the couch, and by the time 9pm rolled around, I was ready to go home (I was in so much pain!).
We began writing down the exact times of each contraction that evening, and by 1:00 am Tuesday morning, they were about 5 minutes apart. We called the obstetrician on call at my doctor’s group, and he said that with a first baby, the contractions needed to be stronger and 3-4 minutes apart, otherwise we’d be sent right back home from the hospital triage unit. We kept timing as he’d instructed, and soon Ken was sound asleep. I let him sleep (since I knew he’d need the extra reserve!) and I kept timing until about 2:30….still 5 minutes apart.
I drew a hot bath and got in to soak. The pain was lessened by the warm water and I didn’t want to get out. I proceeded to time the contractions after I got out and settled back on the couch….watching Lassie and other “comforting” things on TV to get my mind off of it all. I finally dozed off and slept a couple of hours.
About 5:30, I woke up to more intense pressure and tightening. I timed them until 6am, and they were consistently 3-1/2 minutes apart. I went to wake up Ken and we discussed our options. We decided to get things together, pack the Jeep, and call the doctor’s office at 8:30 when they opened to see if I could come in to get checked. When we did, the nurse told us to go to the hospital’s admitting immediately; it sounded like the real thing.
We got to the hospital, totally expecting just to turn around and go back home. The 3rd floor was bustling with activity, to say the least. It looked like the set of “ER!” There were women coming in behind me, nurses running frantically to and fro, and the nurse’s desk looked like the floor of the stock exchange, phone cords stretched all over the place and clipboards being handed off from person to person.
We handed our admissions form to a strangely calm and comatose nurse at the end of the counter. She walked me over to another nurse and asked her, “Where will we put this one?” Oh, no, they were running out of rooms already? They put me in a closet-sized room with just a cabinet, gurney, and monitoring device. She asked me for a urine specimen, and so I walked around the corner to the bathroom. Ken waited outside the door. As I was in there, I heard a woman pass in the hall who was moaning very audibly. Ken said later he hoped I wouldn’t hear that! Turns out, we found out later that she had come in at 8 cm dilation and was about to give birth on the EMS’s stretcher! It added to my anxiety, but I did not freak out, thank goodness.
Back in the assessment room, I put on one of those horrid hospital gowns (5 times too big!) and they strapped the contraction and heartbeat monitors to my belly. Soon the contractions’ peaks and dips showed up on the screen above me, and Gardner’s heartbeat filled the room. The nurse checked and said that I was still not dilated, so she doubted I was really in labor. “But I will go get Dr. Hearn just in case, and he may want to see you anyway.”
Dr. Hearn was the only one of four OBs in the practice that I had not seen nor had I even met. I had no idea what to expect. The contractions can be seen via computer at his practice (which is only about 3-4 miles down the road), so he would assess me from there.
About 20 minutes later, he came into the room. He looked vaguely familiar, but not what I’d had pictured. He said the computer connection had been sketchy so he decided to come in himself to watch the monitoring. He pulled up a stool and began to ask us questions about where we were from, etc. He was very talkative and noticeably a genius. He had a serious demeanor yet he still made subtle jokes and smirked a little at them. I felt a little more at ease as the session dragged on.
He began to notice that my contractions were not as regular as they had been, that they were varying from 3 to 6 minutes apart. He began to tell the nurse to get me a robe and that we would need to walk the halls for a couple of hours to see if things progressed any, seeing as I still had not dilated. Well, that was more than I had expected to hear.
As soon as he was wrapping up his instructions, he became gravely quiet and watched the screen intently. “Hold on a second.” He pulled the printout and stretched it across the room, eyeing its patterns closely. “I notice some deceleration in the baby’s heartbeat after each contraction, and I want to make sure that it is not a fluke. I’m going to watch it a little bit longer before I let you go.” He sat down again and began to explain the reasons why this might be happening. In my case, since it was obviously happening after the contractions (a few seconds after), he said it might be that the placenta was starting to tear away early (placenta abruption). Or it could be that the cord was being compressed in some way.
He called the nurse back and the two looked over the last three contractions that I had and the effects it had on Gardner’s heartbeat. I had noticed that the rate dipped from about 147 to about 127. “That may not be a significant amount to you,” Dr. Hearn said, “but believe me, I know….that is a significant drop.”
After a few more minutes of uncomfortable silence, he suddenly got up and walked over to me, while waving off the nurse. “Yes, this is looking spooky. I don’t like the way these decelerations are looking. We’re going to do a c-section.”
The words hit my ears, but did not sink in. At first, for some odd reason, I expected him to break out in a loud laugh and say, “April fool’s! I’m just kidding, girl. Go home and come back in 12 hours.” But I quickly realized he was serious. How serious? I would soon find out.
Within 3 minutes, 3 more nurses entered the room. One began a barrage of clipboard questions (Do I smoke? Have I had chicken pox? Am I allergic to anything?). Another drew my blood. Still another arrived from the nursery and put a plastic bracelet to my arm (totaling 3 now) with pink and blue bears on it. A nurse trainee (of all things!) arrived to put in a catheter (all I will say is OUCH!). Ken sat there, wide-eyed, as shocked as I was that it was happening so, so fast. He grabbed my hand and began to tell me everything was going to be just fine. I was strangely calm. I know it had to be God who gave me comfort and bravery during those tense moments.
I sat there and slowly realized, like a warm, sickening wave of acknowledgment, that my entire birth plan was going out the window of that 3rd floor. Everything I’d hoped, planned for, and prepared myself mentally for was scratched, and I was left with mere minutes to reevaluate and accept this new turn of events.
Another nurse came in and took off my jewelry; another, my nail polish. I had an IV put in with saline fluids and something to “make me relax.” My blood pressure was taken about 4 times in 15 minutes. Another nurse entered to draw blood out of my arm (I was so used to that procedure by that point, I didn’t flinch).
I turned toward Ken and tried not to cry as I asked him to please call my mom. He did and I could sense her immediate stress as he relayed the details. She was on her way. He also had time to leave a message on his mom’s phone and call his brother before the moment to leave arrived.
They put a gauzy cap over my hair, and a nurse came in to get Ken to change into green scrubs. He looked so cute in them, I must say! He even had the sterile blue cap to boot. As they turned the gurney towards the door to wheel me into the OR, he grabbed my hand and said a quick prayer for me and Gardner. A lump rose in my throat when I saw the way he looked at me. I could see past the façade a little bit and saw a little bit of true concern for our welfare. Yet I was still quiet and resolved as I left the room.
Just like on television, I watched as the fluorescent lights overhead passed by one by one. The twists and turns were so fast I couldn’t tell exactly where we were on the floor….I remembered how to get to the OR because of the tour we’d taken in Lamaze….but this time I think other corridors were taken as shortcuts….I was so lost.
Soon we entered through two enormous double doors. I saw a nurse standing at a large metal sink with a mask on her face, scrubbing in with that colored soap. Then through two more doors that were held open. Immediately I sensed a 15-degree drop in temperature. The nurse steering me warned me that it’d be very cold in the OR, and she promised blankets as soon as I was settled.
They wheeled the bed over to the operating table, and with some help, I shimmied over to get onto it. I took a few moments to glance around the room….a pale yet vivid yellow room with very bright lights all over, two very large ones immediately overhead. I looked at all of the equipment that stood in every possible space. I noticed there were four or five nurses already in there, standing in groups, masked, talking quietly while waiting for things to begin.
A smiling-eyed nurse peered over on top of me, and introduced herself. I can’t remember exactly now what her title was, but I think she was some sort of liability nurse as well as a monitor…she kept close track of my blood pressure, heart rate, sensitivity, and also kept me posted as things went along. She was very cheerful and very soothing.
Suddenly there was a flutter of activity behind me and I overheard two nurses telling Dr. Hearn that Dr. Baker, the anesthesiologist, hadn’t gotten there yet. Evidently she had been paged both to the OR and to a room of a woman dilated to 4 cm to administer an epidural. “OR takes precedence….why did that happen?” Dr. Hearn asked calmly but firmly. Two nurses went scurrying off to try to find her and pull her in. I could tell the situation would become graver as time ticked on; he was anxious to get things moving. And I was, too….pretty soon I knew that they might just put me to sleep, because they’d mentioned the possibility of that earlier. I did not want to have that type of recovery, and I most certainly did not want to be unconscious during the birth of our son!
Dr. Hearn told me to go ahead and sit up on the table and place my feet in a chair beside it. Not too easy to move around when you’ve got tubes and wires stretched all over your body! The nonchalant nurse who’d first admitted us came over and stood by me. Her attitude was lighter now; she began to share her birth story with me of when she had her son. She answered the many questions I had about what things were, etc. as we sat there waiting.
“Someone’s here to see you,” the nurse said. I turned around and saw my mom in the doorway. She looked at me like I was an injured animal, with a pitiful expression on her face. I tried to look happy and excited, but I know that I looked fearful, too! She said she loved me and that she’d be waiting just outside in the hallway.
As she walked off with a nurse, Dr. Baker came through. I could barely recognize her with the mask. Just so happens that she was the anesthesiologist who delivered the presentation in our Lamaze class. She came over and introduced herself, and was very calm despite all of the miscommunication she had been dealing with.
Dr. Hearn turned me toward him and told me that getting a spinal block was a piece of cake compared to getting an IV put in. He told me to take several deep breaths, and to put my head over onto his shoulder. Dr. Baker rubbed an extremely cold iodine sponge all over my lower back; I jumped! Dr. Hearn put his hand on my head and began to whisper that it would be no time at all and I would be feeling “fantastic.”
“A little prick,” Dr. Baker said behind me. And it certainly was nothing more than a little sting like from a shot. Only about 30 more seconds passed and they were done; it was in, and I didn’t even feel a thing. How awesome. Within 30 more seconds, I felt as if someone were pouring very warm liquid into my chest and below….a warmth quickly radiated downward. They helped me turn around and lie back down, and as I did, I realized that I was already tingly.
They pulled up my hospital gown and a young nurse began to shave my belly with a wet razor. Dr. Hearn stood to the side and began to direct each nurse to a task. He seemed so laid back and calm as he served as overseer of the whole endeavor; it put me further at ease. The nurse behind me put a blood pressure cuff on my right arm, and laid it across the little platform beside me (though I wasn’t strapped down to it, which surprised me). She put a heart rate monitor on my index finger. I looked up and saw a monitor showing my and Gardner’s heart rate. I had no idea how his heart rate was showing up on there, I couldn’t figure it out!
The nurse then placed oxygen into my nose and told me that it would help his heart rate stabilize, and also help to calm me down. She then went on to say something about studies showing that oxygen lessens the risk of infection after surgery, but I was only half paying attention! I do remember thinking that the plastic tubing smelled like a new Barbie doll!
The nurse began to test to see how numb I was. She had a cold alcohol pad and touched my arm with it. “Cold?” she asked. “Yes,” I said. She touched my belly with it. “The same cold?” “Yes.” She touched my arm. “Cold?” “Yes.” She touched my belly. “Cold?” Hmm. Not really. “No, it’s not anymore.” That was all it took. The blue drapes went up, and my other arm was put on the platform. The nurse put an inflatable warm air blanket over my arms and chest, and my shivering soon stopped as I warmed up.
I looked back and saw Ken entering the room. He rushed over to me and grabbed my outstretched hand. He told me to look at his eyes and focus on him; that we’d see our son soon! I remember looking back at him and asking, “Are YOU okay?” I knew he sometimes grew faint in medical surroundings. “No, I’m fine. You don’t worry…”
I laid there and watched the room’s lights, trying to stay still (not that I could’ve moved if I’d wanted to!!). I began to wonder, “When will they get started?” I felt my body rocking back and forth a little bit, and I felt as if I was on a ship. I could see the blue drapes shifting as I was moving. I still thought they hadn’t begun by this point….but all of a sudden, I heard suctioning noises fill the room.
“Oh, he’s almost out….I hear suctioning!” I told Ken. I remembered from watching countless c-section births on Discovery Health Channel. I knew his birth was seconds away. “Focus,” Ken said. I was not scared anymore, though. I began to smile for the first time that day.
Suddenly I heard someone say, “Here he is!” Ken looked up and saw the doctor pass him on to the pediatric nurses. I didn’t see him at all…. I was disappointed because I thought they’d show him to me over the drapes, but they didn’t. I suppose they were concerned about his breathing and being okay. Within one minute, they called Ken away and he went over to the little cart where Gardner was laying.
Within a couple of seconds, a wonderful cry filled the room. It was a high, squeaky cry, and the most beautiful sound I had ever, ever heard. I started crying as I listened to those sweet screams! The nurses all came over and said congratulations.
After about 2 or 3 more minutes, Ken came back over and sat down by me, and the nurse followed him with little Gardner in her arms, swaddled and so little! I couldn’t hold him yet, but I was able to bend my arm and rub his little cheek with my finger. He laid there so peaceful in his little blue and pink cap. We both watched him in awe until the nurse told Ken to follow her to the nursery. “You’ll see each other again after she gets out of recovery….” Ken bent to kiss me and then I turned to watch him leave. Alone again, but not sad. I was a new mom.
While stitching me up again, Dr. Hearn commented on how small I was to have just had a baby! He told me I did great and that everything turned out fine. Within 10 or 15 more minutes, they were done. The drapes were taken down, and Dr. Hearn bent down to tell me congratulations and well done. He looked as relieved as I did.
A male nurse arrived with a gurney to take me to recovery. He and three other nurses grabbed the corners of the sheet I was on and lifted me onto it. What a weird sensation….wow! I felt as if just my upper body was being moved. I felt as if the lower half of my body were totally gone. I could see the form of my legs under the sheets, but could feel nothing.
As they wheeled me out, Dr. Hearn stood by the OR doors and dictated the surgery details into a yellow telephone (I suppose for transcription later). I remember him saying something about a cord around Gardner’s neck, and about having to use a vacuum to get him out because he was so wedged in. He also said that he suspected partial placental abruption. I was again consoled that the right decision had been made.
I was in recovery for about 1-1/2 hours. It was a long, very 70s-looking room with bed beside bed beside bed. It was about half full, with new people coming in and old ones leaving every few minutes. Scott and Beverly, my two nurses, came over and checked me. Scott got ice chips for me and began to put them into my mouth….I was extremely thirsty. They both then checked my incision and then pressed on my abdomen for a few minutes. Not the most comfortable feeling in the world, for sure.
They asked me to wiggle my toes….I couldn’t! I even scrunched up my nose as I tried my hardest, but the neurons just wouldn’t fire and make them move! It was truly an out-of-body experience as I laid there and felt no sensation or movement from the mid-abdomen down. Even after they left to check on other patients, I still tried to move, and no luck. I found it kind of funny and remember laughing….probably the medicines talking.
While waiting, I talked and talked to the nurses about our new little son and how we picked his name, etc. I felt as talkative as I did after my wisdom tooth surgery, but more “with it” in my mental state. They placed very warm blankets over me and said they needed to get my temperature back up; it was 95.4! My blood pressure was in the low 80s over 60s. They watched me intently, but soon things leveled out and they seemed more at ease.
About 2:00, the nurse finally said I was moving okay. I was told to move my knees and thought for sure that I was not moving them (I couldn’t feel that I was). But to my surprise, when I looked down, they were moving! That was the green light to go to my room. Soon the postpartum nurse, Lori, came and checked me (pressed on my belly AGAIN) and said I was ready to go.
Wheeled through the halls, I saw so many people step back and wait as I passed….visitors, no doubt. They had smiles on their faces, and I wondered if they even knew that I had a baby (I wanted EVERYone to know!).
I was in my room by 2:30, and saw all of Ken’s bags and my purse. But where was Ken? The nurse went to find him for me. He was sitting in the nursery rocking Gardner, and had been for over an hour. He was certainly the smitten new daddy. As he entered the room, smiling, and presented Gardner into my arms for the first time, all I had been through suddenly paled. I laid there in awe as I felt this little breathing creature in my arms…..he was really ours….and he was really here at last!
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