ha! i was obviously exaggerating about that two-hour window of opportunity. i might have 10 minutes to write this post. and it has taken me a week to find those 10 minutes.
but i am Wonder Woman! el Jefe' made a day trip up North this morning. he got up at the 3 am feeding, took a shower and made his way to the airport for a 6 am flight. Although Peanut was due to eat around 6 am, she very consistently wakes up around 5:30 am (we think it's the early sunrise).
i got a couple winks between 4 am and 5:30. once we got up, i fed her (mommy meal, over a half hour). i also fed the dogs, including the 105-year-old anorexic who stopped eating wet and dry mixed, ate dry only half her meal times or less, and is now eating wet at every meal but has to be supervised because young dog will devour any leftover food which she clearly doesn't need because she is shaped like a cube. i packed Punkin's diaper bag with organic milk, lunch, Pull-ups and wipes, and took it out to the car knowing i wouldn't have a free hand, plus it was an excuse to get the paper. Peanut and i got Punkin up, and i made him an egg for breakfast (unexplainable, other than he asked for it ... raw, i might add, but that is unacceptable). i changed Peanut during breakfast, and brushed Punkin's teeth, and changed Punkin and got him out of his jammies and into his school clothes. Peanut in the car seat, Punkin's shoes on, loaded into the car and we all made it to school by 8 am. only a few tears from both kids, and none from mommy.
i even stopped at the store on the way home for more canned dog food (she can live for three more days) and a D battery for the bouncy chair.
i may have exceeded my 10 minutes, but Peanut is not screaming. i am Wonder Woman.
Thursday, June 28, 2007
Thursday, June 21, 2007
three new nursing bras
i'm a little frustrated with the two-hour window of opportunity. you'd think it was an hour to feed, a half-hour of play, and an hour and a half nap, eight times a day. well, the two-hour window of opportunity also applies to how much "work" i can get done in a day. yes, consider the ramifications to a control freak who only has two productive hours in a single day. two productive hours to do actual work, write thank-you notes, send out announcements, work on her memory book, and obviously occasionally post to this blog. i continuously have to remind myself to keep my expectations low (very low).
yesterday's window consisted of an outing with Peanut to run errands. we went to Target because Peanut was running out of diapers. i brought along a gift card with intentions of getting her something special of her very own (probably clothing), but then i choked because we are attending a party in her honor on Sunday. i went through the store twice looking for Mylicon. and i got some diapers. and for myself, i bought three new nursing bras.
nursing bras suck. i have to wear them 24-7 for the next 11 months. i avoid the underwire ones because i read something negative about them, so that reduces my choices to less than half of the styles available. i purchased a Medela nursing bra from JC Penney before Peanut was born. it is easily the world's ugliest bra and not very comfortable. i am extremely disappointed because i have been impressed by nearly everything in the Medela line, and i paid twice what i would normally pay for the butt-ugly bra. at Target, i found three different bras in my size and purchased them on the spot.
the three new bras are ok. just ok. am i going to be like one of my co-workers, who ended up with something like 15 different nursing bras, in her quest for one comfortable bra, when she only nursed her child for a couple months? i don't want fifteen bras. i don't want fifteen styles. i just want a couple that are comfortable; that don't itch, that don't bind on the sides, that will hold up through the laundry. breastfeeding supposedly saves you money, so these dream nursing bras should be affordable, too.
silly me. i've got to remember to keep my expectations low.
yesterday's window consisted of an outing with Peanut to run errands. we went to Target because Peanut was running out of diapers. i brought along a gift card with intentions of getting her something special of her very own (probably clothing), but then i choked because we are attending a party in her honor on Sunday. i went through the store twice looking for Mylicon. and i got some diapers. and for myself, i bought three new nursing bras.
nursing bras suck. i have to wear them 24-7 for the next 11 months. i avoid the underwire ones because i read something negative about them, so that reduces my choices to less than half of the styles available. i purchased a Medela nursing bra from JC Penney before Peanut was born. it is easily the world's ugliest bra and not very comfortable. i am extremely disappointed because i have been impressed by nearly everything in the Medela line, and i paid twice what i would normally pay for the butt-ugly bra. at Target, i found three different bras in my size and purchased them on the spot.
the three new bras are ok. just ok. am i going to be like one of my co-workers, who ended up with something like 15 different nursing bras, in her quest for one comfortable bra, when she only nursed her child for a couple months? i don't want fifteen bras. i don't want fifteen styles. i just want a couple that are comfortable; that don't itch, that don't bind on the sides, that will hold up through the laundry. breastfeeding supposedly saves you money, so these dream nursing bras should be affordable, too.
silly me. i've got to remember to keep my expectations low.
Monday, June 18, 2007
my husband, the best father a kid could have
in honor of Father's Day, i will tell this story about dinner friday night.
el Jefe' and i alternate weeks on whose turn it is to buy groceries, and whose turn it is to decide what our weekend meals entail. typically, we do not cook friday or saturday nights (and thursday is usually left over night). this dates back to a recommendation from counselling many years ago ... it works for us. this past weekend was el Jefe's turn.
he chose Joe's Crab Shack for our friday night outing. the place has a special meaning to us, a park for Punkin to play in, and we recently returned after banning them for several years for poor service and cold food. there was a short wait to be seated, but we had at least an hour and a half window of opportunity before Peanut's next feeding.
we should've known better when it took an eternity to get our beers and Punkin's milk ... so long that our waiter brought us water to tide us over (afterall, we live in the desert, don't ya know). we ordered Punkin's meal, and an appetizer, and figured we'd order our main courses when something showed up (beverage, food, whatever). Punkin was chair dancing, which touched my soul to see my son with no inhibitions (when do kids start to feel embarrassed?) eventually we ordered our main courses, and received our beers.
our appetizer came out before Punkin's meal. well before, in that we ate all the jalapeno crab balls and french fries and all three of us sat there and stared at the empty basket and wished for more. Peanut woke up during the Macarena, and our food, not even Punkin's food, was no where in sight.
el Jefe' bounced Peanut. i bounced and danced with Peanut. Punkin eventually got his food and polished off his carrot sticks. el Jefe' and i finished our beers. and as we watched our window of opportunity creep shut, we asked about our meals. our waiter informed us the oder had only been placed 10 minutes ago. we disagreed, but were held hostage. el Jefe' ordered another beer. and we bounced Peanut.
as the window of opportunity shut, our waiter tried to deliver us another couples' meal. said other couple was seated a good 4 tables after us, most likely a half hour after us. el Jefe' says we should've eat their food. still, we waited and continued to bounce our wide awake and not too happy Peanut.
Punkin announced he had a poo poo. el Jefe' went to change him, and of course, there was not a changing table in the men's restroom. our food was finally delivered, and the waiter had the nerve to ask if the boys were playing in the park. when they got back, el Jefe' let me prepare my food for one-handed eating, and then i took the Peanut while he proceeded to inhale his king crab legs. the balloon lady came by, and made Punkin an Elmo (thank God because he was bored by this time, his normal bed time). el Jefe' was obviously steaming at this point, and he is not a volatile man.
our waiter offered to pay for our drinks. el Jefe' explained that "with a baby, we have a limited window of opportunity, and frankly, our food just took too fucking long." el Jefe' finished his meal; i got a go box for my entire meal, we paid, tipped meagerly and left. i fed Peanut in the car.
so i'm really not comfortable breastfeeding in public, so maybe it's partly my fault. but are we banned from family restaurants because i'm breastfeeding? why shouldn't we be able to dine out? it's not like we went to a five star french restaurant with a seventeen course meal.
all the things that could've made the evening worse: Punkin could've needed stitches after bashing his head into the table and chairs several times. we could've gotten salmonella poisoning from our meal. we could've gotten pulled over on the way home and cited for car seat and seat belt issues, and el Jefe' could've blown over a 0.08. i guess we could've gone to jail.
el Jefe' understands me. he stood up for me, and he stood up for our family.
and my food was good, even though it was cold.
el Jefe' and i alternate weeks on whose turn it is to buy groceries, and whose turn it is to decide what our weekend meals entail. typically, we do not cook friday or saturday nights (and thursday is usually left over night). this dates back to a recommendation from counselling many years ago ... it works for us. this past weekend was el Jefe's turn.
he chose Joe's Crab Shack for our friday night outing. the place has a special meaning to us, a park for Punkin to play in, and we recently returned after banning them for several years for poor service and cold food. there was a short wait to be seated, but we had at least an hour and a half window of opportunity before Peanut's next feeding.
we should've known better when it took an eternity to get our beers and Punkin's milk ... so long that our waiter brought us water to tide us over (afterall, we live in the desert, don't ya know). we ordered Punkin's meal, and an appetizer, and figured we'd order our main courses when something showed up (beverage, food, whatever). Punkin was chair dancing, which touched my soul to see my son with no inhibitions (when do kids start to feel embarrassed?) eventually we ordered our main courses, and received our beers.
our appetizer came out before Punkin's meal. well before, in that we ate all the jalapeno crab balls and french fries and all three of us sat there and stared at the empty basket and wished for more. Peanut woke up during the Macarena, and our food, not even Punkin's food, was no where in sight.
el Jefe' bounced Peanut. i bounced and danced with Peanut. Punkin eventually got his food and polished off his carrot sticks. el Jefe' and i finished our beers. and as we watched our window of opportunity creep shut, we asked about our meals. our waiter informed us the oder had only been placed 10 minutes ago. we disagreed, but were held hostage. el Jefe' ordered another beer. and we bounced Peanut.
as the window of opportunity shut, our waiter tried to deliver us another couples' meal. said other couple was seated a good 4 tables after us, most likely a half hour after us. el Jefe' says we should've eat their food. still, we waited and continued to bounce our wide awake and not too happy Peanut.
Punkin announced he had a poo poo. el Jefe' went to change him, and of course, there was not a changing table in the men's restroom. our food was finally delivered, and the waiter had the nerve to ask if the boys were playing in the park. when they got back, el Jefe' let me prepare my food for one-handed eating, and then i took the Peanut while he proceeded to inhale his king crab legs. the balloon lady came by, and made Punkin an Elmo (thank God because he was bored by this time, his normal bed time). el Jefe' was obviously steaming at this point, and he is not a volatile man.
our waiter offered to pay for our drinks. el Jefe' explained that "with a baby, we have a limited window of opportunity, and frankly, our food just took too fucking long." el Jefe' finished his meal; i got a go box for my entire meal, we paid, tipped meagerly and left. i fed Peanut in the car.
so i'm really not comfortable breastfeeding in public, so maybe it's partly my fault. but are we banned from family restaurants because i'm breastfeeding? why shouldn't we be able to dine out? it's not like we went to a five star french restaurant with a seventeen course meal.
all the things that could've made the evening worse: Punkin could've needed stitches after bashing his head into the table and chairs several times. we could've gotten salmonella poisoning from our meal. we could've gotten pulled over on the way home and cited for car seat and seat belt issues, and el Jefe' could've blown over a 0.08. i guess we could've gone to jail.
el Jefe' understands me. he stood up for me, and he stood up for our family.
and my food was good, even though it was cold.
Thursday, June 14, 2007
3-hour increments
el Jefe' would say, and i would agree, that i'm getting bitchy. part of it is rarely leaving the house. part of it is rarely bathing (i think my last shower was Monday?). part of it is this expensive, butt-ugly, uncomfortable nursing bra that i'm forcing myself to wear 24-7 because i spent the money and it wasn't cheap. and part of it is living life in 3-hour increments.
i try to make sure Peanut has 8 meals a day. do the math, and that is every 3 hours. my family (except for my antiquated parents) are firm believers in "Baby Wise" which offers the wake, eat, play, sleep routine. Peanut is doing well, Punkin did fabulously, so we're trying to maintain the tradition in concept. breastfeeding kids can take up to an hour to feed. 20 minutes is just plain bullshit. so, that leaves roughly 2 hours every feeding. two or three of those, i try to sleep. at least two more of those, el Jefe' and i are trying to balance having Punkin and Peanut around and keeping everyone fed and entertained. what it boils down to is that i feel as though i have no more than 2 hours to accomplish anything in any one day. that could be a shower. that could be thank you notes. that could be a trip to the grocery store.
i'm frustrated that i can't accomplish much in two hours a day.
and i've got nearly 11 months and 2 weeks more of this.
i try to make sure Peanut has 8 meals a day. do the math, and that is every 3 hours. my family (except for my antiquated parents) are firm believers in "Baby Wise" which offers the wake, eat, play, sleep routine. Peanut is doing well, Punkin did fabulously, so we're trying to maintain the tradition in concept. breastfeeding kids can take up to an hour to feed. 20 minutes is just plain bullshit. so, that leaves roughly 2 hours every feeding. two or three of those, i try to sleep. at least two more of those, el Jefe' and i are trying to balance having Punkin and Peanut around and keeping everyone fed and entertained. what it boils down to is that i feel as though i have no more than 2 hours to accomplish anything in any one day. that could be a shower. that could be thank you notes. that could be a trip to the grocery store.
i'm frustrated that i can't accomplish much in two hours a day.
and i've got nearly 11 months and 2 weeks more of this.
Sunday, June 10, 2007
the end of an era
FOR SALE
1998 Kawasaki 1100 ZXi
1998 Kawasaki 1100 STX
1998 Zieman J2B Double Trailer
$5,900 or best offer
29 minutes from Lake Mead National Recreation Area
1998 Kawasaki 1100 ZXi
1998 Kawasaki 1100 STX
1998 Zieman J2B Double Trailer
$5,900 or best offer
29 minutes from Lake Mead National Recreation Area
Cruising, Tubing, Water Skiing, Wake Boarding & Tons o’ Fun
we started 4th of July, 1998 with the red ski, a three-seater, and a double trailer. we followed with the yellow ski, a two seater, around labor day weekend that same year. on saturday, June 9, we sold both Jet Ski's and the trailer. honest to God, el Jefe' and i cried.
this was a huge part of our lives here. this was our primary source of entertainment. the red ski had nearly 200 hours on the odometer ... you could say we got our money's worth. memories. fun. passion.
due to environmental restrictions, we can't ride them in the larger lakes up North. we have vowed to get back into it when we get settled up North ... out of an apartment and into a house. it won't be the same; it never is the same. at least we got to share it with Punkin (who has asked several times "Where did the Jet Skis go?"). and with our resolve to get back into it when we're up North, we will share the enjoyment with Peanut.
the end of an era, or the beginning of a new one?
Thursday, June 07, 2007
Lea's coming out party
i was supposed to check into the hospital, labor and delivery, at 8:00 pm Tuesday, May 29th. Like most events since becoming a mother to Punkin, I was late. I put in a full day of work, with a goal to leave at 5:00 pm. I made it out by 5:30 pm, with quite a few items remaining on my “to do” list (some important, like a change order, and others not, like a request for quiz hints received this last day). We planned to take Punkin out to dinner (Applebee’s, his second favorite, mainly for the balloons) but the Applebee’s close to our house is closed, boarded-up, kaput. We opted for the next closest Applebee’s, which had several empty tables yet a wait to be seated, and no balloons. My prediction is the Applebee’s chain is going under for failure to provide balloons. Just you watch. There was quite a scene at home with Punkin, with plenty of tears, and requests that we all go to the hospital together and get Peanut. Eventually we showed up at labor and delivery closer to 8:45 pm. Not like they were going to start without me.
So i check into triage, and fill out a pink sheet roughly 5 x 7 (landscape) with about a dozen boxes for information. They included “last menstral period” and “due date” and how far along i was, so i did not have to go through the agony of the stupid wheel one more time. That’s it. No wonder they let just anyone have a baby. The nurses laughed when my response to “Why are you here?” consisted of “Cervical ripening”. Not a good sign. One of the triage nurses said she never heard it put that way … that’s what my ob-gyn called it; that’s what they call it in “What to Expect” … what am i supposed to say … they are going to put in a chemical tampon?
Labor and delivery triage was busy (el Jefe' kept commenting: “Business is good.”) so we sat in the waiting area for probably over an hour watching network TV shows neither of us had even heard of. My first L & D nurse, Ruth, eventually came and got us and put us in Room 4 (even though the computer was supposedly slow). She started an IV after repeating how my veins were so easy to find, yet complaining that they’re all crooked (because i have valves, and i think the only thing we can blame there is good ol’ advanced maternal age); suffice to say, this IV site was to get a lot of use, and she got it the first try, but it wasn’t pretty, without blood loss, or painless. At this point, i was in the gown, i’ve got both the external fetal heart rate and contraction monitors, but i was able to get up and use the rest room on my own free will (sorry, but that is important to me.)
Around 11:00 pm Ruth began the cervical ripening, but not without a final trip to the bathroom since I was going to be bedridden (only for the next 2 hours, but still…). She did tell me we have a very happy baby, judging by the monitors. Internal check (for those of you who have never had kids, this is done MANUALLY and frequently): my cervix had thinned, and was closed, as it had been for the previous 3 weeks. A few minutes into the ripening, i sent el Jefe' home. The process was rather like watching paint dry, and they weren’t planning on starting Pitocin until i had ripened for 12 hours. He left and i dozed on and off (mostly off) for the obligatory 2 hours. Once Ruth returned and released me from the bed, i of course went to the bathroom and opted for the 10 mg of Ambien offered to me. It did absolutely nothing. Needless to say, i saw the story about Andrew Speaker and his TB about every 8 minutes throughout my hospital stay.
Shortly after 7:00 am i called el Jefe' and Punkin (“No new baby yet.”) Ruth finished her shift and i met my new L & D nurse, Tammy. Tammy had an improved command of the English language and a drier sense of humor … we got along fabulously. We talked about kids, and birth experiences (17 hours with Punkin; she said she could beat that), and potential names (Chloe is regaining in popularity, and the family controversy over Stuart). She gave me a tray of hospital breakfast, which really was terrific, since the supposed “benefit” of cervical ripening is that you can eat and walk around (and hence, go to the bathroom). With the other induction drugs and interventions, you eventually lose your rights, so i nearly devoured the breakfast as quickly as i could. My gyn-ob showed up with half a muffin to go (i had saved the best for last). Another internal check with no change: my cervix was paper thin, but closed. i was having a couple contractions every hour, but nothing worth breathing about. My ob-gyn opted to skip the full 12 hours of ripening and get the party started with Pitocin. i never did get to finish that other half of muffin.
He started with an amnio hook. The hope was if he could get through the tiny hole in my cervix, things would get started. He poked and prodded (mind you all of this is without a stitch of pain medication) and eventually broke my water. Tammy described it as clear with chunks. The chunks were meconium; Peanut had taken a dump, which was the first sign of distress. Everyone (from my ob-gyn, to the maternal-fetal monitoring nurse, to Ruth, Tammy and me), had hoped that my body would get things started (dilation) on its own, whether from all the cervical ripening, having my water break, or all the internal checks. i was fully effaced, but my cervix was still closed.
Then i had a gusher and lost a ton of amniotic fluid. Tammy tried to keep me calm and optimistic, making light of the mess i had made. She inserted a sort of catheter, which would act as an internal contraction monitor and served to replace the lost amniotic fluid (with a saline solution, i believe). It was one of those “get up on the bed with me and poke and prod and …” well frankly, it felt like she was trying to insert a tree trunk inside me, and very deep inside me, possibly poking through the tattoo on my back. She was incredibly proud when she was successful and couldn’t wait to tell the other L & D nurses of her achievement with the patient with the closed cervix. So went the end of my bathroom rights.
She opted not to start the Pitocin right away, since i had been manually manipulated so much, so frequently, again with the hope that my cervix would dilate on its own. We watched the monitors. Sure enough, my contractions came on every two to six minutes, but without regularity. el Jefe' made it back around this time. He got to witness another internal check. Tammy wanted to give me a sympathy 1, but the fact was my cervix was still closed. el Jefe' helped change my gown and some bedding, and change out the rolled up receiving blanket between my legs that acted as a pad to soak up the fluid coming out and going in. i got a dose of Demoral which didn’t do much for the pain (and humiliation) of the internal checks, but i did start to ask some stupid questions.
It was Pitocin on and off until after lunch time. el Jefe' kept changing my bedding and blankets out of the adjacent supply closet (but we began to run out of receiving blankets). He even offered to get me a bed pan (but didn’t know what one looked like). Sometimes Peanut was fine on the monitors, and sometimes not. It seemed like just when they were making progress with labor, Peanut would show some signs of distress, so they’d shut down the Pitocin.
My ob-gyn came by to see how things were progressing and recommended i have an epidural to prevent the agony of more internal checks (he actually described them as torture). For me, yes, they were torture and worse than contractions. Contractions have a limited duration and can be somewhat regular and predictable. Not so with the internal checks. i felt like they were inside me up to the elbow, and i was frustrated because we weren’t getting anywhere. i think we had passed the 17-hour mark (if you count the ripening). So yeah, bring on the epidural.
i guess i pissed off the anesthesiologist because i wanted to use a bed pan before the epidural. Dude, gimme a break. i’m actually asking to use a bed pan. Whatever. i got to use the bed pan, and i got my epidural. He did a good job because i only had two contractions during the insertions. i think he was still mad about the bed pan, though.
Once the epidural kicked in, Tammy went to work. Operation Dilation. Manual. She got me to a 4, which meant four fingers. Pitocin was still on and off. She had me lay on my left side for awhile. When Peanut wasn’t happy, they rolled me to my right side. When Peanut still wasn’t happy, they rolled me kind of onto my stomach in a running position (imagine this nine months pregnant). And when it was all said and done, they shut down the Pitocin.
Peanut’s heart rate actually slowed following the peaks of some contractions. They call it “facing” or “basing” or some word that rhymes with those. It’s not a good thing. Basically there were indications of distress, but without getting inside, they could not be sure what was causing the distress. Tammy set the stage for a possible C-section. Her fourth child was a C-section. She told el Jefe' i was going to need help at home. Period.
My ob-gyn came back and talked about a C-section as well. He and Tammy talked about the women with multiple page birthing plans. Although i assured them i was not one of those women, i honestly felt that sense of failure. But my ob-gyn left the decision to me, to us, with the caution that there were indications that Peanut was in distress. Roughly 20 hours into my hospital adventure, we opted for the surgical route. el Jefe' donned his cap, gown and booties … all i got was a cap.
There were pissing matches between the nurses over who would be with me through the C-section. Tammy stood firm that she would be there. No one knew who would assist my ob-gyn, but supposedly there was someone available. (i got his bill 8 days later … he does not accept Anthem Blue Cross Blue Shield.) (These people actually use the Holiday Inn Express joke a lot, which isn’t funny when you’re the one having surgery.) And then the anesthesiologist that did my epidural was no where to be found (still holding the bed pan against me, no doubt), but they got a team together.
As we entered OR Number 1, they were playing Pink Floyd (comfortably numb). It made me smile. They asked el Jefe' to don his mask. They cranked more juice into my epidural site. They spread my arms like Jesus on the cross and draped me. They started at 6:01 pm. The chord was wrapped tightly around Peanut’s neck twice, and a third time around the shoulders. On Wednesday, May 30th, at 6:07 pm, they delivered our baby girl. i cried when they told me it was a girl. (i probably would’ve cried if it was a boy, too.)
Every child is unique. Every birthing experience is different. This was Lea’s story.
So i check into triage, and fill out a pink sheet roughly 5 x 7 (landscape) with about a dozen boxes for information. They included “last menstral period” and “due date” and how far along i was, so i did not have to go through the agony of the stupid wheel one more time. That’s it. No wonder they let just anyone have a baby. The nurses laughed when my response to “Why are you here?” consisted of “Cervical ripening”. Not a good sign. One of the triage nurses said she never heard it put that way … that’s what my ob-gyn called it; that’s what they call it in “What to Expect” … what am i supposed to say … they are going to put in a chemical tampon?
Labor and delivery triage was busy (el Jefe' kept commenting: “Business is good.”) so we sat in the waiting area for probably over an hour watching network TV shows neither of us had even heard of. My first L & D nurse, Ruth, eventually came and got us and put us in Room 4 (even though the computer was supposedly slow). She started an IV after repeating how my veins were so easy to find, yet complaining that they’re all crooked (because i have valves, and i think the only thing we can blame there is good ol’ advanced maternal age); suffice to say, this IV site was to get a lot of use, and she got it the first try, but it wasn’t pretty, without blood loss, or painless. At this point, i was in the gown, i’ve got both the external fetal heart rate and contraction monitors, but i was able to get up and use the rest room on my own free will (sorry, but that is important to me.)
Around 11:00 pm Ruth began the cervical ripening, but not without a final trip to the bathroom since I was going to be bedridden (only for the next 2 hours, but still…). She did tell me we have a very happy baby, judging by the monitors. Internal check (for those of you who have never had kids, this is done MANUALLY and frequently): my cervix had thinned, and was closed, as it had been for the previous 3 weeks. A few minutes into the ripening, i sent el Jefe' home. The process was rather like watching paint dry, and they weren’t planning on starting Pitocin until i had ripened for 12 hours. He left and i dozed on and off (mostly off) for the obligatory 2 hours. Once Ruth returned and released me from the bed, i of course went to the bathroom and opted for the 10 mg of Ambien offered to me. It did absolutely nothing. Needless to say, i saw the story about Andrew Speaker and his TB about every 8 minutes throughout my hospital stay.
Shortly after 7:00 am i called el Jefe' and Punkin (“No new baby yet.”) Ruth finished her shift and i met my new L & D nurse, Tammy. Tammy had an improved command of the English language and a drier sense of humor … we got along fabulously. We talked about kids, and birth experiences (17 hours with Punkin; she said she could beat that), and potential names (Chloe is regaining in popularity, and the family controversy over Stuart). She gave me a tray of hospital breakfast, which really was terrific, since the supposed “benefit” of cervical ripening is that you can eat and walk around (and hence, go to the bathroom). With the other induction drugs and interventions, you eventually lose your rights, so i nearly devoured the breakfast as quickly as i could. My gyn-ob showed up with half a muffin to go (i had saved the best for last). Another internal check with no change: my cervix was paper thin, but closed. i was having a couple contractions every hour, but nothing worth breathing about. My ob-gyn opted to skip the full 12 hours of ripening and get the party started with Pitocin. i never did get to finish that other half of muffin.
He started with an amnio hook. The hope was if he could get through the tiny hole in my cervix, things would get started. He poked and prodded (mind you all of this is without a stitch of pain medication) and eventually broke my water. Tammy described it as clear with chunks. The chunks were meconium; Peanut had taken a dump, which was the first sign of distress. Everyone (from my ob-gyn, to the maternal-fetal monitoring nurse, to Ruth, Tammy and me), had hoped that my body would get things started (dilation) on its own, whether from all the cervical ripening, having my water break, or all the internal checks. i was fully effaced, but my cervix was still closed.
Then i had a gusher and lost a ton of amniotic fluid. Tammy tried to keep me calm and optimistic, making light of the mess i had made. She inserted a sort of catheter, which would act as an internal contraction monitor and served to replace the lost amniotic fluid (with a saline solution, i believe). It was one of those “get up on the bed with me and poke and prod and …” well frankly, it felt like she was trying to insert a tree trunk inside me, and very deep inside me, possibly poking through the tattoo on my back. She was incredibly proud when she was successful and couldn’t wait to tell the other L & D nurses of her achievement with the patient with the closed cervix. So went the end of my bathroom rights.
She opted not to start the Pitocin right away, since i had been manually manipulated so much, so frequently, again with the hope that my cervix would dilate on its own. We watched the monitors. Sure enough, my contractions came on every two to six minutes, but without regularity. el Jefe' made it back around this time. He got to witness another internal check. Tammy wanted to give me a sympathy 1, but the fact was my cervix was still closed. el Jefe' helped change my gown and some bedding, and change out the rolled up receiving blanket between my legs that acted as a pad to soak up the fluid coming out and going in. i got a dose of Demoral which didn’t do much for the pain (and humiliation) of the internal checks, but i did start to ask some stupid questions.
It was Pitocin on and off until after lunch time. el Jefe' kept changing my bedding and blankets out of the adjacent supply closet (but we began to run out of receiving blankets). He even offered to get me a bed pan (but didn’t know what one looked like). Sometimes Peanut was fine on the monitors, and sometimes not. It seemed like just when they were making progress with labor, Peanut would show some signs of distress, so they’d shut down the Pitocin.
My ob-gyn came by to see how things were progressing and recommended i have an epidural to prevent the agony of more internal checks (he actually described them as torture). For me, yes, they were torture and worse than contractions. Contractions have a limited duration and can be somewhat regular and predictable. Not so with the internal checks. i felt like they were inside me up to the elbow, and i was frustrated because we weren’t getting anywhere. i think we had passed the 17-hour mark (if you count the ripening). So yeah, bring on the epidural.
i guess i pissed off the anesthesiologist because i wanted to use a bed pan before the epidural. Dude, gimme a break. i’m actually asking to use a bed pan. Whatever. i got to use the bed pan, and i got my epidural. He did a good job because i only had two contractions during the insertions. i think he was still mad about the bed pan, though.
Once the epidural kicked in, Tammy went to work. Operation Dilation. Manual. She got me to a 4, which meant four fingers. Pitocin was still on and off. She had me lay on my left side for awhile. When Peanut wasn’t happy, they rolled me to my right side. When Peanut still wasn’t happy, they rolled me kind of onto my stomach in a running position (imagine this nine months pregnant). And when it was all said and done, they shut down the Pitocin.
Peanut’s heart rate actually slowed following the peaks of some contractions. They call it “facing” or “basing” or some word that rhymes with those. It’s not a good thing. Basically there were indications of distress, but without getting inside, they could not be sure what was causing the distress. Tammy set the stage for a possible C-section. Her fourth child was a C-section. She told el Jefe' i was going to need help at home. Period.
My ob-gyn came back and talked about a C-section as well. He and Tammy talked about the women with multiple page birthing plans. Although i assured them i was not one of those women, i honestly felt that sense of failure. But my ob-gyn left the decision to me, to us, with the caution that there were indications that Peanut was in distress. Roughly 20 hours into my hospital adventure, we opted for the surgical route. el Jefe' donned his cap, gown and booties … all i got was a cap.
There were pissing matches between the nurses over who would be with me through the C-section. Tammy stood firm that she would be there. No one knew who would assist my ob-gyn, but supposedly there was someone available. (i got his bill 8 days later … he does not accept Anthem Blue Cross Blue Shield.) (These people actually use the Holiday Inn Express joke a lot, which isn’t funny when you’re the one having surgery.) And then the anesthesiologist that did my epidural was no where to be found (still holding the bed pan against me, no doubt), but they got a team together.
As we entered OR Number 1, they were playing Pink Floyd (comfortably numb). It made me smile. They asked el Jefe' to don his mask. They cranked more juice into my epidural site. They spread my arms like Jesus on the cross and draped me. They started at 6:01 pm. The chord was wrapped tightly around Peanut’s neck twice, and a third time around the shoulders. On Wednesday, May 30th, at 6:07 pm, they delivered our baby girl. i cried when they told me it was a girl. (i probably would’ve cried if it was a boy, too.)
Every child is unique. Every birthing experience is different. This was Lea’s story.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)