Not Your Normal Birth Story

Small disclaimer:

This is my birth story,

and it's not your average birth story.

It's a story of things that happened with my circumstances.

So don't be discouraged,

or think that this could happen to you.

Because each pregnancy is unique.

Weeks before Wyatt's arrival my doctor had expressed a concern that Wyatt would be a large baby.

She was thinking around 10 pounds to be exact.

Now this would be normal if I had gestational diabetes,

but I didn't.

This would be normal if Justin and I were large babies,

but we weren't.

Also I was showing a large amount of amniotic fluid.

Around 26% to be exact,

and the normal range I was told was anywhere from 10 to 20%.

So again there was concern.

I was sent to a specialist to get one of those fancy shmancy ultrasounds.

The specialist confirmed these facts,

diagnosing me with polyhydroamniosis,

which I was told could result in the placenta tearing away from my uterus,

or the cord coming out if my water broke naturally.

So there was general concern, for myself and Wyatt,

 and told my doctor that a c section was necessary,

so I was scheduled to go into surgery the next day.

Now c sections had scared the *bleep* out of me.

I wanted a natural birth,

I wanted the satisfaction of pushing my son out into the world,

I wanted the experience of contractions and everything that you hear about.

So I was very disappointed when I was told these were no longer and option.

The day of surgery I went in to the hospital anxious and scared.

They took me back,

changed in to that fabulous hospital gown, 

had my IV set, 

and my vitals checked.

We were ready to go.

I tried to distract myself with an episode of the view.

Hoping that Whoopie's humor would bring a smile to my ghostly white face.

As they came in to wheel me into the operating room,

feelings of fear rose and my body began shaking uncontrollably.

I couldn't sit still,

even if I tried my absolute hardest.

I left Justin in the recovery room,

to change into his wonderful scrubs.

As he wasn't allowed to join me in the operating room until after my epidural was set up.

I was told to sit at the end of the bed,

lean far over,

and sit completely still until the epidural was set.

This was the hardest part.

I couldn't sit still if you paid me.

I nervously asked the nurse if I could hold her hand.

As I leaned over the pillow provided,

I felt a strong stinging pain.

Nothing intolerable.

But again my shaking body was just getting worse and worse.

I honestly looked like I was having a seizure,

and had zero control over my body.

I felt pressure as the epidural was being set,

and then stabbing pain in my left butt cheek.

I let the anesthesiologist know this didn't feel normal,

and he explained it was because he was hitting nerves in my back,

and that I needed to sit still.

Again easier said than done buddy!

Finally after what seemed like eternity it was set and a warmth ran over my body from my toes to my back.

And then nothing.

I went numb from the waist down.

As the blue sheet was being draped in front of me,

Justin walked into the OR.

I could tell he was nervous,

because he kept saying,

"I'm here babe, I'm right here, Everything is going to be okay"

I don't remember this,

but Justin said after a few times of him reciting this mantra over and over,

I finally snapped shouting at him,

"Stop saying everything is going to be okay!"

I must admit,

not my finest hour.

Sorry dear!

Everything seemed to go fine,

I felt nothing but slight pressure.

Then a wave of extreme nausea came over me.

I just remember thinking,

Don't throw up,

Don't throw up!

But I did.

Several times,

Over and Over again.

Into a tiny bag.

As I was laying on my side.

Lets just say It's extremely hard to aim into that tiny sack when all you can do is turn your head.

But less than 10 mins later,

I heard the sounds of a cry,

that brought tears to my eyes.

Wyatt was born.

Justin asked if he could look over the sheet and was told he could.

Probably wishes he didn't though.

As he saw my belly with a huge gaping hole in it,

that he later described to me as,

the size of the grand canyon.

Awesome!

All I saw on the monitor was this little boy,

that was only 8 pounds 7 ounces,

Not 10 pounds!

My little boy was so content, and happy.

And tears flooded my face.

They sat me up and transferred me to another bed,

which was when I got to see the OR bed covered in blood.

Not something I really wanted to see.

But then they placed my little man in my hands,

and the tears continued,

as they rolled us to the recovery room.

I remember seeing my dad in the hallway as they rolled me back.

And he stated,

"Why are you crying so much?"

And my reply was, 

"Because I've never been so happy."

But that happiness was short lived.

I was so completely drugged up that the next few hours are cloudy.

I don't remember my friends being in the recovery room,

I don't remember my son being around me.

I just remember,

constantly throwing up,

and sweating so uncontrollably,

that it looked like I had taken a shower.

I was sweating so bad that they transferred me to another bed because my sheets were soaking wet.

All side effects of the pain medication that was administered through the epidural.

Between all the vomiting and sweating and pain,

Justin came into the room followed by our son.

Wyatt was in a case that looked like something only the very sick babies were in.

At that moment I knew,

something was wrong.

Justin explained to me,

that they were taking our son to the NICU.

His sugar levels were extremely low.

And they couldn't get them to come up.

They had explained that he would not be able to stay with me, and that he would be in the NICU for at least a few days.

I began crying my eyes out.

This isn't how it was supposed to happen.

I wasn't supposed to be this sick,

I wasn't supposed to have my son taken from me.

He wasn't supposed to be in the NICU.

I was scared.

But I couldn't do anything about it.

So finally after hours and hours of getting sick,

my body let me at least get in a wheel chair and go down to to see Wyatt.

He was hooked up to an IV and was being pricked in the foot every 3 hours to check his levels.

To this day 3 weeks later,

he still has scars on his tiny feet.

I just remember thinking that this couldn't be real.

I attempted to breast feed,

since this was his best chance of getting his levels back up.

But I was having extreme difficulty,

which I was told is normal of c section mothers,

since your body doesn't go through the natural process of labor.

3 days went by.

3 days of wheeling down the NICU every 3 hours to try to take care of my son.

We were being told,

as long as his sugar levels read over 45 he can be released to me.

But once his levels reached 45 we were being told,

as long as his levels read over 60 he could be released to me.

And then once his levels read 60,

we were being told he had to have 3 consecutive readings over 65.

I had my last of this.

Justin had a discussion with our nurses,

and expressed our frustration.

We wanted our son.

We wanted him to stop being pricked every 3 hours.

We wanted him in our room.

I wanted to hold him without an IV sticking out of his tiny hand.

So finally,

the very last night,

he was released to me.

I can not explain the feeling I had,

seeing my son rolled into my room.

All swaddled and clean and happy.

I think I slept with him in my arms the entire night.

We were finally all together.

Our birth story was a rocky road,

many things were unexpected,

sickness,

pain,

the NICU.

But in the end,

it all worked out.

And God blessed our family,

with a happy, healthy, beautiful, baby boy.

And for that I am eternally grateful.