As remembered on January 4th, 2008...After a few anxiety-filled days of wondering where my doctor was and if our house might burn down, I was summoned to the hospital to be induced on October 24, 2007. By the time we checked in and got started, it was a little after noon. Gus and I were both so excited. I felt so relieved to know that the end was in sight! The nurse had me change into a hospital gown, and she attached devices to my belly to monitor the baby’s hear rate and my contractions. At around 1 o’clock, she started the induction by inserting a tablet of Cytotec near my cervix. Almost instantly, I began to have contractions that I could feel. They weren’t too uncomfortable, but they were becoming stronger and more regular. By 5 o’clock, when the nurse put in the next Cytotec tablet, I had begun to dilate.
The hours after that were filled with watching TV and using Gus’ laptop to go on the internet. Gus’ parents showed up for a surprise visit in the evening, just as my contractions were starting to get unpleasant. My actual doctor, Dr. Kreitzer, arrived later that evening and said he didn’t want to start Pitocin yet because I was progressing so well. I continued to labor even after the Cytotec wore off, and he thought my body might just do things on its own, if given the chance!
Things quieted down for a bit, so we decided to try and get some sleep. But by around midnight, the contractions were so painful that I couldn’t relax for more than a minute or two at a time. I had dilated to almost 4 centimeters! The nurse came in to check on me, and asked if I’d like to get an epidural. I wanted to try and wait a little bit longer—which I did. But I was exhausted, and in quite a bit of pain. At around 1:30, we requested the epidural. In retrospect, I know that I could have easily tolerated the pain for much longer, but I was desperate for some shuteye at that point!
The process of getting the epidural really wasn’t bad at all. I felt a mild stinging/burning sensation in my back for just a few seconds, and then a cold sensation as the medication was pumped in. By 2am, I didn’t feel much of anything at all below my chest! It was the strangest feeling—I touched my legs, but my brain didn’t even recognize them as my own! Rolling over became a two-person job, since I couldn’t move my legs or waist at all. And I had to roll over every few hours to make sure that the epidural medication didn’t all pool on one side of my body.
From that point on, I slept really well! The epidural caused some itchiness on my chest and shoulders, but the nurse gave me an antihistamine to take care of that. By morning, I was convinced that I would be ready to push, and that I’d have a baby before lunch. But when the new (more aggressive) doctor arrived to check on me after a shift change, he said that I was still at 4 centimeters. He was eager to start me on Pitocin to speed things along.
They administered Pitocin through my IV, and the contractions became so strong that I was feeling some discomfort, even with the epidural. I noticed that I could feel them more on one side than the other, and I attributed this to not rolling over as often as I should have. The morning was a long one… I was so hungry, and I begged the nurse to let me have something, ANYTHING to eat. She gave in and let me have a bowl of orange Jell-o, which ended up being a huge mistake.
At around 11am, my parents arrived at the hospital after stopping by our house to check on the animals and to get a sweatshirt for Gus. We visited with them for about half an hour, and then I threw up. Up came the orange Jell-o I had begged and pleaded for! My parents ran to get the nurse, who was already on her way for another reason: She had noticed on her computer that the baby’s heart rate had begun to decelerate during my contractions, and it had been happening for a few minutes. She ran to get the doctor, who checked me and said I was going to need an emergency C-section. NOW. And that’s when things got crazy!
One nurse rushed in with a pack of scrubs for Gus to put on. Meanwhile, he had to pack up all our belongings—we were told to leave them in the room, and that they would find their way to us in the end. I was surrounded by a million people at once: the anesthesiologist, who increased my epidural, and a slew of people asking me “Can you feel that?” or “Are you allergic to this?” I had to take off my earrings and give them to Gus. A nurse gave me some foul-tasting liquid to calm my stomach, since I had just thrown up. And minutes later, just before noon, I was wheeled through the hospital to the operating room. Gus was told to wait in a side room until I was prepped for surgery, so I was completely alone for a few minutes.
Those few minutes were… bizarre. I remember apologizing to the surgery team as they lifted me onto the table—I was dead weight, after all, since I couldn’t feel anything below my arms! Even my left arm was starting to go numb. The room was so bright and sterile, and the anesthesiologist stayed near my head and made small talk while I was being prepped. Then Gus was back in the room, and just in the nick of time—I needed to throw up again. He grabbed a small bowl and caught it all (thank God!). The anesthesiologist gave him a wet towel to wipe my face with, and then made me drink another gross concoction to help with my nausea. Unfortunately, it had the side effect of causing serious drowsiness. My eyelids began drooping almost immediately, but I fought with all my power to stay conscious.
Suddenly, Gus was standing up to look over the sheet, and he started taking pictures. All the doctors started to say things like, “We’ve got a big one!” and “What a cute boy!” I couldn’t see him or hear him yet. They, along with Gus, took him over to a warming table to stimulate him, and that’s when I got my first look at my beautiful baby boy. A split second later, he started crying lustily, and I knew his lungs had to be healthy! I cried. I wanted to hold him and be near him so badly, but I couldn’t. Minutes later, after cutting the remainder of the umbilical cord, Gus brought him over to me for the first time. All I could do was kiss him on the head, since I couldn’t move my arms. And after a few minutes of taking photos, I was having a very tough time staying awake! Gus took the baby off to the nursery for his first check-up, and the surgery team closed me up.
I vaguely remember being wheeled down to the recovery room. It was a long room filled with a lot of people, all of us separated by curtains. A nurse gave me morphine for my pain, but I couldn’t really move. I was in and out of consciousness. Gus appeared, and he was absolutely radiating happiness and excitement. He told me all about the baby’s check up, and that he was absolutely perfect (he got an 8 and then a 9 on his Apgars). He told me all about the cute things the baby did, and all the little things he just adored about him. I started to feel depressed and detached at this point… I couldn’t move my arms enough to hold him, and it seemed like he had bonded instantly with his Daddy and that he wouldn’t even know who I was. That feeling would last almost a week for me—I felt like Nikos and I were complete strangers, even though we had lived together for nine whole months and he shared half of my DNA!
As I started to wake up, Gus began bringing in family members one at a time to see us. First came my mom, then his mom, then his dad, then my dad, and finally his sister. Everybody got to hold him, but I still wasn’t able to. By the time his dad came in, I was regaining some feeling in my arms and legs, and was finally able to hold him for a few minutes. And after the visit was over, we tried to breastfeed for the first time (unsuccessfully, I might add!).
After three hours in the recovery room, I could bend my knees and was ready to be moved to my real post-partum room on the fifth floor. I got to hold my baby some more, and was finally allowed to drink water (I was dying of thirst!). Our parents came up for another quick visit, but I could barely keep my eyes open. I managed to send out a quick email from the laptop, letting everyone know that Nikos had been born, but then I fell into a deep sleep. Same with Nikos—he and I both slept like babies that first night, even though we were woken up every hour to be checked by the nurses!
At midnight, the nurse made me stand up and walk for the first time since the surgery. I stood up beside the bed, and blood came gushing out of me and onto the floor. I was in horrible pain, even with medication! I couldn’t stand up straight. I slowly limped my way to the bathroom to get cleaned up, leaving a trail of bloody footprints on the floor. I had to drag my IV pole along with me, and the various tubes made things complicated. By morning, both my IV and catheter were removed, and I had to go to the bathroom on my own. The tape covering my staples was also removed, and I was given permission to shower, if I wanted (I did). Moving was still incredibly painful, though, and I had to hunch over to even think about walking.
Over the next few days, the pain gradually lessened and we were inundated with visitors from morning ‘til night. Breastfeeding, on the other hand, wasn’t happening. I kept trying and trying, but the baby wouldn’t latch on and I SWORE that there was absolutely nothing coming out of my breasts. It turned out, later, that I was right. Because of the C-section, my brain hadn’t yet received the message that I’d had a baby and needed to produce milk! With help from a lactation nurse, we supplemented with formula and continued to practice breastfeeding. A day or two after we got home, my milk came in, and things got much better. But I shed a lot of tears those first few days, thinking that I couldn’t feed my baby AND that he didn’t even know who I was. When the visitors would leave, I’d sink into a sort of depression about the whole thing. It was really, really hard.
In the end, though, everything worked out. And I left the hospital with the most handsome baby boy in the entire universe, my little Nikos! And though my recovery was painful, and motherhood was a huge adjustment for me, it was worth every second.
